Page 35 of Disenchanted
“Miss Upton. Please…”
I turned around reluctantly. I waited as the commander approached, but I kept the gate between us. My expression could not have been encouraging. He was silent for a moment as though struggling for words.
“I wish there was some way to make you understand. These are dangerous times for our kingdom, far more dangerous than you realize. When I became a Scutcheon commander, I swore that I would give my life to protect Arcady and uphold its laws. I did not make such a pledge lightly.”
“I never doubted you are a man of duty and honor,” I said.
“No, what you doubt is that I could be a good man. You think of me as hard and unfeeling, perhaps even cruel. I wish that you might not judge me too harshly until we become better acquainted.”
He added tentatively, “Your stepmother has been kind enough to say that I might call upon you some afternoon.”
I had forgotten all about that. I grimaced.
“Of course, I would never do so if you do not wish it.” When I said nothing, his face fell.
He backed away from the gate, clicked his heels in a rigid bow. As he turned to go, my conscience pricked me. I could not forget how deeply I was indebted to him. I would likely be sprawled dead in the lanes of Misty Bottoms if not for the commander.
But if I permitted Crushington to call upon me, it would only encourage him to hope I would one day return his regard and that was quite impossible. Still, he looked completely disheartened as he reached for the reins of his horse. So strangely vulnerable and alone, this man who thought of friendship as a luxury he could not afford.
One half hour visit, a cup of tea, a few cakes… would it really cost me so much to allow him that? I was probably going to regret this, but I opened the gate and hurried after him.
“Commander Crushington.”
He was about to vault into the saddle, but he paused at the sound of my voice. Although there was little hope in his eyes, he regarded me questioningly.
I drew in a deep breath. “I was unkind to you just now and it was very wrong of me when I owe you so much.”
“You owe me nothing, Miss Upton. I do not want your gratitude.”
“You have it all the same. I cannot tell my family what happened this afternoon without greatly distressing them. But if they knew how you had rescued me, they would be grateful as well. What I am trying to say is… if you did wish to call upon us some afternoon, you would be welcome.”
I was aware that I sounded more reluctant than cordial. I sought to make up for it by offering him my hand. When he eagerly accepted it, I gasped at the sudden throb of pain in my wrist.
Crushington released me at once. “Ella, I am sorry—” He stopped and frowned. Taking my hand more gently, he upended my palm and exclaimed, “You were hurt by that brute.”
I stared down at the bruises darkening my skin. My wrist was even starting to swell a little.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “I will apply a cold compress to my wrist. It will be fine.”
I tried to ease away from him, but he cradled my hand in his grasp. “When I was a wee lad and got injured, my mother had her own remedy for my pain.”
I had difficulty picturing the formidable commander as ever having been “wee” or for that matter, even having a mother. I stiffened as he raised my hand to his lips, thinking he intended to kiss my hurt away as my own mother would have done.
Instead, he blew softly against my wrist. His lips never even grazed my skin and yet the contact felt so— so intimate, I shivered.
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded, too astonished to even reclaim my hand. When he released me, I hugged my hand close to my bosom.
“I have many duties that require my attention, but if you truly do not mind, I will call upon you early next week?”
“Next week would be fine.”
He mounted his horse and smiled down at me. “Until next week then.”
I nodded, stepping back out of the way as the commander urged his horse into motion. As Crushington wheeled Loyal about, heading toward town, I stared after him. What an extraordinary gesture for a man as stiff as Crushington, blowing on my wrist that way. What stunned me the most was my reaction. As I headed toward the house, my skin still tingled from the warmth of his breath.
All thoughts of the commander flew out of my head as my front door burst open. My two stepsisters rushed toward me, squealing, “Oh, Ella! Ella, thank the fairies, you are home at last!”
