Page 110 of Charmless
Someone plucked the sunflower from my grasp, and I looked up to meet Horatio’s horrified gaze. “Well, not every man,” I hastened to explain. “Just that one.”
Horatio pulled me to my feet, and I wrapped my arms around his waist.
Ryland had launched into another lilting ballad. I hummed along, trying to get Horatio to sway with me, but he forced me to stop.
“Ella, please. I need to get you?—”
“Naked?” I suggested, waggling my eyebrows in wicked fashion.
I started to undo the buttons of his uniform when I was distracted by the sight of someone who had popped out of nowhere. The majordomo cut a somber appearance contrasted to all the delicious colors swirling before my eyes.
I scowled. “Hey, it’s what’s-his-name, the king’s annoying little servant. What’s he doing here? Shoo! Go away.”
I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture, but the majordomo ignored me, addressing Horatio.
“Well, Commander, we appear to have quite a dire situation here,” he said in that dry tone of his. “The question is what am I to do about it?”
“You?”I snickered before Horatio could reply. “You have no power. Who do you think you are, the king’s wizard?”
“Hush, Ella.” Horatio murmured in my ear. “That is exactly who he is.”
“What? Don’t be silly.” I gave Horatio’s shoulder a playful swat. “Everyone knows the Great Mercato is an old man with a long, long, white beard.”
“No,” Horatio whispered. “The majordomo is the real Sidney Greenleaf.”
This was the most ridiculous and amusing thing I had ever heard. I laughed so hard I didn’t think I would ever be able to stop. I laughed until my head pounded and my stomach ached.
Groaning, I doubled over, clutching my midsection. “Horatio, I don’t feel so good.”
My words trailed off as the sky above exploded with a hail of shooting stars. My knees buckled. Horatio caught me just in time before I sagged to the ground, and all went dark.
Twenty-Three
Iwas having the strangest dream about feeding gingerbread to an aura cat, rescuing Mal from a dungeon, and kissing Horatio. That part of the dream was wonderful before the majordomo popped up to ruin it. But the rest was a jumbled nightmare of Florian turning into a monster and threatening to ravish me.
Moaning, I tossed and turned. I needed to wake up, but lifting my eyelids was like struggling with wooden shutters that were painted shut. I knuckled my eyes until they became unglued enough to open a crack. The soft morning light blurred my vision. I blinked hard until I could focus on my surroundings.
I was tucked up in a bed that wasn’t mine, yet the white ash headboard seemed familiar. My bleary-eyed gaze traveled over the low ceiling, the small windows, and their lacy curtains. It was the multi-colored quilt draped over me, along with the faded wallpaper of vines and roses that helped me gain my bearings. I was in one of the attic rooms above the apothecary shop that had once served Mal’s grandmother as her bedchamber and sitting room.
How did I end up in Granny Hawkridge’s bed and why was I wearing Mal’s clothes? Had any part of my dream been real or was it all just a nightmare? Shifting upright, I smothered a groan. As I stretched to ease my sore muscles, I let out a startled squeak.
I was not alone.
A man dozed in the wing-back chair by the fireplace, his long legs stretched out, his boots propped on the matching ottoman. He had to be dreadfully uncomfortable, the chair never fashioned to accommodate his large frame. His dark head slumped to the side, his lips slightly parted, issuing soft sighs.
Horatio! I was relieved and astonished to find him here with me. How could he manage to sleep in that cramped position? The poor man must be exhausted after everything that had happened last night.
I sucked in my breath as memories surfaced of my desperate attempt to free Mal from the Dismal Dungeons, Horatio and Ryland helping me. Where was Mal now? The last I recalled he had collapsed on the hillside, the rest of us surrounded by scutcheons, prison guards and Florian! The prince had been waving his sword about, threatening to kill his brother. My recollections after that were vague, a flutter of iridescent blue wings, Mimsey darting overhead, a shower of silvery particles raining down on me.
Pixie dust! Was I still under its influence and only imagining that Horatio and I were miles away from the Dismal Dungeons, safe at The Hawk’s Nest? Flinging the quilt aside, I stood up too quickly. My head reeled. I staggered forward, clutching at the bedpost for support. The noise I made startled Horatio awake. Bolting upright, his hands doubled into fists, he prepared to do battle. When he spotted me, he released a deep breath and relaxed his hands.
“Ella! Thank the fairies you are finally awake. I was so worried.” Horatio dragged his hands down his face. “I am sorry. I never meant to fall asleep. What time is it?”
I was unable to answer him. Time had disappeared for me the moment I had inhaled that pixie dust. I marveled that Horatio appeared far less confused by our current situation. When I took a step in his direction, he leaped up to steady me.
I flung myself into his arms. He felt wonderfully solid and real, his presence reassuring. I clung to him, trembling. Horatio held me close, murmuring, “Everything is going to be all right, Ella. You are safe now.”
“Am I?” I croaked, my throat feeling as thick and fuzzy as though I had been swallowing caterpillars. “Mal! What happened to Mal?”
