And yet, it had not helped. She had nightmares of what could have happened, of what had happened, of what Mr. Delmont would do if she refused or screwed up. Her dreams were filled with death and blood, a villainous man, and Mr. Knyte in the middle of it all, unmoving beside her, and she didn't even know why he was there. He had said hardly a word to her since that day and she did not know what to think of it whether to be greatful or angry as ever before to receive such solitude.
With a groan Emilia hears a soft knock on the door. She knew it wasn't her mother who would have merely barged back into the room without a second thought, that giddy smile plastered on her naïve face. Her heart dropping and stomach rising with nausea at the thought of who could be behind that solid oak as only one name comes to mind. Mr. Delmont.
Remaining seated and swallowing the bile she manages to voice without it trembling to her invisible audience ever so softly. "Enter." She practically squeaks, struggling to sit perfectly still, straight backed and elegant as she crosses her palms on her lap to hide the furious shaking. And in came someone far worse, Mr. Knyte.
Emilia could feel her breath catch in her throat at the sight of such a man. His cold countenance even as ever as her eyes automatically flit downwards to his waist band, catching the briefest glimpse of that small piece of black metal that had her veins humming with adrenaline to run. Turning her head away quickly she clears her throat, trying to catch the breath that seemed to refuse her. "What can I do for you Mr. Knyte?" She murmurs, attempting not to bite her lip but failing miserably in the attempt to not ruin that perfect makeup as her eyes remain trained just behind him.
"I am here to escort you to the car Miss Emilia." He replies, pausing feet from her seated position as she still refused to look at those grey stormy eyes, that muscular chest that expanded that white button up shirt to impossible proportions. Let alone those muscular arms that filled out the black sleeves so perfectly, her teeth sank a little deeper in an attempt to keep a blush from entering her cheeks at the thoughts racing through her mind.
"Of course, just allow me to put on my heels." She said quickly, attempting to stand only to stumble on the edge of the over long dress and awkwardly take a seat once more feeling that blush rise unwillingly. Maybe, she prayed, it would be hidden by the thick layer of makeup from his sight, even if she could feel the warmth rising.
"Stay seated and allow me." Mr. Knyte says, effortlessly picking up the shoes that lay just at the foot of her bed, ready to be worn, before kneeling before her like a prince in a fairytale.
She found it increasingly difficult to breathe as his large hand gently takes her right heel, sliding slowly up her calf to pull the foot forward and uncover her skin from the champagne dyed silk to carefully slide the stilettos onto her dainty foot. She was insanely greatful in that moment that she had managed to shave herself only that morning as she can feel a soft lightheadedness take over her thoughts as tingles travel her leg in his fingers wake, lingering longer than necessary as he buckles it with slow precision.
And then came the left as he lowers her right leg back to the cushioned mattress and his hand moves to the split more than halfway up her thigh, his finger gently tracing the line of paler untanned skin downward, sweeping the dress gently to the side as Emilia feels her heavy eyes flutter shut for the briefest moment. The feeling was heaven of his hands on her, and she knew that her slightly heavy breathing hinted that to him as his finger tips dig in just a little harder. Pulling her leg slowly away from the bed as he finally places the other shoe upon her foot.
It was like he didn't know what he was doing to her as she felt his finger tips lie just on the underside of her thigh above her knee. The tingles and sparks making her practically incoherent as she dares to finally look at him, the shoe fitting perfectly as it was made for her and her alone. As she looks down to see why he is not pulling away from her she finds only his eyes meeting her own, drawing any breath she managed to get in away from her slightly parted lips in that instant.
His eyes, those molten steely silver orbs, were staring at her, waiting for her to look at him. They hold an emotions so intense that she could not put words to them, so many were mixed flurrying there that she couldn't say a thing. She couldn't move, she could do nothing. His eyes held a spell, she realized, a memorizing hypnotic spell that kept her bound when she knew she shouldn't, when she knew she should run. It made her weak in the knees, it made her want to be this knight's damsel in distress. To faint in his arms and receive only true loves kiss to waken her from this terrible nightmare called life.
But then the spell was broken as he blinked those molten eyes and she could look away once more, his hands having slid from her leg as he rises to his feet and offers her a hand to help her from the cushioned surface. She shook slightly, her hand reaching forward slowly of its own accord to accept it.
Shaking slightly she comes to her feet, wobbling slightly on the too tall heels as she watches their intertwined hands rather than the seemingly uneven ground beneath her. But she knew better, she had been in this room for three days, why only now was it deciding to move like the deck of a ship beneath her.
A hand gently sweeps across her waist, startling her into placing a hand on his chest as she falls forward into that solid mass of sculpted muscle. His hand coming to rest somewhere on her lower back, just where the slightly untangling bow that held her straps in place and her dress upon her shoulders lay as if he were tempted to pull it apart and let it simply fall. Instead, he pulled on one of the bunny ear bows, tightening it ever so slightly to be certain it stays in place that evening.
"We don't want any accidents this evening Miss Emilia, do we?" He humms in her ear causing something to thump in her chest heavily as she bows her head choking on her own breath.
"No, we don't." Emilia whispers back as she pushes past the man that had told Mr. Delmont a lie, the man that made her heart break with every moment she was near him, had protected her, and would now be her greatest weapon as she faced the most trying of all tasks, a party.
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The Bodyguard
RomanceThe marriage of Anthony Delmont and Catherine Heart is one of the most important celebrations of the year, and as they bind their hearts with a ceremony, they also bind the new-stepdaughter's freedom. Emilia Heart is forced to endure an overwhelmin...
The Little Things
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