Page 29 of Awestruck (Starstruck Love Stories #4)

Crouching next to Elliot, I take my gift and thank the sweet girl for bringing it to me.

I wish I had something I could give her in return, but all I’ve had to share today are promises for when I take the throne.

“You had better run back to your mum before she worries,” I tell her. “It was wonderful to meet you, Elsa.”

She curtsies wobbly. “And you, Princess.” She turns to leave but pauses, looking back at us. “My mum says you two are a beautiful couple,” she says, then runs off, leaving Elliot and me on our own.

“Oh,” I say on a breath, suddenly dizzy. “But we’re not…” We are not a couple. That is what I should have said to the girl before she was too far, but her words caught me off guard. “Why would anyone think that about us?”

Elliot grunts and stands, helping me up with him.

“Interesting,” he mutters. His eyes narrow slightly as he gazes across the crowd like he did before, though he does not seem to be looking at anything in particular.

I, on the other hand, am entirely focused on the warmth of his fingers still touching my elbow.

Why has he not let go? “People are paying more attention to you than I thought.”

Willing myself to ignore the contact between us, I look up at his face. “Then they should have realized that I have not been close to you for most of the afternoon.”

The muscles in Elliot’s jaw flex. “Yeah, that’s not happening again. You’re staying within arm’s length from here on out.”

“What do you suppose people will begin to say then?” I ask, inexplicably blushing at the thought of Elliot always within reach like this. “If someone already assumed we are a couple, then—”

“It’s not true,” Elliot interrupts, dropping his hand and looking at me, “so it doesn’t…

” His words trail off, leaving the last word on a breath.

“…matter.” For a moment, his eyes flit all over my face as if he is seeing it for the first time, and I burn hotter beneath his searching gaze.

But then he ducks his head and chuckles.

“It’s only natural for your bodyguard to be close to you, don’t you think? ”

What little air is in my lungs slips out in an exhale, and my next breath takes an embarrassing amount of concentration. “Yes. Yes, of course you would be close, and it is foolish for anyone to think you are anything but my protector.”

“Exactly.”

And it is foolish for me to think there is something between us that is not there. He is my bodyguard and my friend. Nothing more. I know this. He obviously knows it too.

Setting my shoulders back, I force my thoughts to stay in reality. “I never would have guessed you had a way with children,” I say calmly, “but it is nice to see you are more than a barbarian.”

Elliot snorts a quick laugh. “You only called me that once, when I carried you out of Invem. Have you been thinking that about me this whole time?”

“Naturally,” I lie as I think about how entirely un-barbaric he has been since that day. From the start, really. In truth, he has been so different from what I first thought him to be that it is becoming increasingly difficult to put him into any sort of box at all.

Elliot Reid is unique among men.

With lively music in the air and so many delicious smells and a cool breeze coming off the sea, the silence between us as we stand at the edge of the celebration grows comfortable, the way it should be between friends, and I begin relaxing fully into the moment.

Elliot is right, and neither Elsa’s mum’s nor anyone else’s speculation has anything to do with the truth.

Thankfully, for the first time all day, Elliot finally looks like he has relaxed as well, and more than ever I wish I could have given Elsa more than a smile and a few words.

The little girl has no idea what she has given my bodyguard, far beyond a couple of pastries.

A moment away from his worries was exactly what he needed.

“Coming here was never a political strategy, was it?” he asks after a while.

I grin. “Do you think I lied to Markham?”

Though he scoffs at my use of Grimstad’s given name—or perhaps he is scoffing at my question in general—Elliot’s tranquility remains as he watches the festivities. “I don’t think you ever lie, Rapunzel.”

Warmth blossoms in my chest with his comment. “I did not realize how nice it would be for someone to think that about me.”

He turns to me, his eyes searching again. “Are you telling me it isn’t true? You’re a liar?” Despite his teasing tone, his expression is serious.

Lifting my chin, I shrug one shoulder. “I am a politician.”

“You’re a lot more than that, Freya. What you do doesn’t make up all of who you are.”

Silence settles between us once more, somehow louder than the chatter and music surrounding us.

He is saying so much with his warm brown gaze, and I wish I could hear his unspoken thoughts.

Does he truly believe I am more than a princess when I so often feel as if I have forgotten who I am underneath?

I spoke that fear to him a few days ago, unsure if he really heard me because he instantly tried to argue.

What does Elliot see when he looks at me?

Swallowing, I keep my question to myself, too afraid of the answer. “The same is true for you, you know,” I say quietly. “You are more than just a bodyguard, and I do not want you to get lost in your role and forget to live. You—Elliot—matter in this world.”

Nothing about Elliot’s demeanor or expression changes.

He is frozen in time, eyes locked on mine while the world continues moving around us.

I want him to believe me. I need him to believe, as much as I am coming to learn that I need him on this campaign with me.

Another guard could protect my body, but Elliot seems to look after the rest of me as well.

He cares so much that he has given his all for my sake.

Someone needs to look after him in return.

The music comes to an end, the musicians bowing amidst applause.

Elliot blinks and drops his gaze as he claps, breaking the tension holding us together.

A moment later, one of the violinists starts up a traditional Candoran love song, and the other musicians join in after a few measures.

It is a lovely song with a calming rhythm, and it sparks a desire in me that is so strong I cannot ignore it, even knowing how it will skew outside perception even more.

“Dance with me.”

Elliot’s eyes snap to mine again. “What?”

I hold out a hand. “Dance with me.”

“I heard you the first time.” He studies my hand, brow furrowed like no one has ever asked him to dance before.

Maybe that is true. Maybe Elliot Reid has lived a life deprived of all the good and beautiful things the world has to offer.

Just as he has been teaching me to let go of my formalities, it seems I need to teach him to let go of his responsibilities every now and then.

Relax.

It will be good for us both.

I smile. “Please.”

“I don’t…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know how.”

Grabbing his right hand, I guide it to my back, then take his other hand and hold it aloft before sliding my left hand to his shoulder. “Let me show you how to dance like a Candoran.” I take a step back, pulling him with me. “Let me help you be more than a bodyguard tonight.”

For a man who claims not to know how to dance, he picks up the steps quickly as I guide him through a Candoran waltz.

He gains confidence as we go, so different from the nobles and diplomats I have danced with over the years, a lot of whom tend to be so afraid of stepping on my toes that their eyes never leave our feet.

Those who are confident enough to meet my eyes as we dance are often too confident, leaving me squirming under their gazes.

But Elliot has a way of making me feel nothing but safe as he takes the lead halfway through the song.

He keeps half his attention on the people around us while the other half stays on me.

He still looks like the same intimidating soldier, but now that I know there is a softer side of him, one who makes little children giggle, I can see deeper than I did before.

See the man who would fly to the other side of the world to protect a stranger, even when she wants him to leave.

He is a good man. Better than I could have guessed.

The music shifts to a Candoran lullaby, softer than the song before, and Elliot pulls me closer to his body.

His hand moves from the middle of my back up to my shoulder blade until I’m leaning into him, my head against his collarbone and our hands clasped between us.

Wearing clothes he borrowed from a man in town, he smells like the ocean breeze and woodsmoke, and he is warm. So warm.

I could stay here in his embrace forever.