Rowan was clearly mesmerized. He really wanted to tuck the dark glossy curls that framed the face he had looked at every day but never really seen. Her skin glowed. She looked soft. She looked elegant. She looked breathtaking.
Delaney took a deep breath then the first step. Her hand, encased in a long white glove, gripped the polished mahogany banister so hard she feared she might leave a dent.
Click.
Her silk slipper hit the stone.
She took a breath. The corset felt tight against her ribs, a constant reminder that she was not in her safe, comfortable gray wool. She felt exposed. The air in the hallway felt cool against her bare shoulders, a sensation she hadn't felt in three years.
She looked down.
Rowan was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was looking up.
He was frozen. He wasn't checking his pocket watch. He wasn't tapping his foot. He wasn't frowning at the time.
He was just staring.
