A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 19 | instants of misconception

Awh!

A loud moan escaped my lips as Camilla arranged a dozen pillows behind me.

Carefully, she pressed my back to lean into their softness and helped me to sit upright in bed.

Dwain's scent was all over the place, tickling my nose and messing with my mind.

"Mrs. Horton, please, don't stress yourself to get out of bed. I'm at your service till convalescence is over. At least, I owe you this for causing you all this pain."

She brushed a tear out of her eyes and replaced her sorrow with a ghosting smile on her lips.

Steadying my grip on the sheets, I pulled my waist out of the covers, putting my bruised leg to rest in a comfortable position.

"Camilla, you are doing too much, stop forcing the blame on yourself," I mumbled. "Why are you doing this? I mean, covering up for my acts?"

"Oh! Child, like I said,' if I didn't scare you, nothing like this would have happened.' I know how hot-tempered Mr. Horton is and I don't want a little mistake of mine to cause trouble in your marriage." She wiggled my cheeks and stood up. "Let me go assist in the kitchen, I will be back in no time."

Camilla walked out of the room and my eyes marveled at the interior design of Dwain's room.

Sparks of white paint glitter through the little openings on the golden curtains running down the ceiling to the floor.

Flipping a strand of rebellious hair out of my sight, I glanced at the large glass windows which gave a clear view of the fountains, swimming pool, and helicopter spot.

With a smile emerging from my lips, I rolled my eyes and memorized his bed.

Pure white sheets with a little touch of blue at their edges stretched all over the king-sized bed, with a thick baby blue blanket tucked in which rested on my lap.

His white heart-shaped pillows were a perfect match with the ones laying on his couches.

A coffee table with pink highlighters and folders stood close to the huge glass frame which separated the room from the balcony, with a blue carpet spreading all over the floor.

His room had antique furniture sprinkled on the walls and portraits of ancient Belgian history.

Camilla walked in.

It took longer than usual to take my bath and Camilla did a deep cleaning of my cut, renewing the band-aid.

She helped me change into a pink long sleeve top and a faded pair of blue Jeans.

She equally pulled my hair into a high bun and help me slip my feet into thick black socks.

"Mrs. Horton, should I bring your breakfast up here or do you want to join us downstairs?"

"Camilla, please stop calling me such." I sighed and helped myself out of bed. "I'm having breakfast downstairs."

I INHALED AND EXHALED each time I plopped my bruised leg down a stair.

Camilla's hands wrapped around my waist and supported my body as we walked down the stairs.

No matter how gentle my baby steps were, the pain from my cut still ran up my spine.

I got tired of my moans and the sweat droplets spewing from my forehead as we descended the last stair.

In the little hallway which led to the kitchen, three maids gathered around a publication, whispering and nodding their heads.