Delaney stepped back a little from the door.
Her heart was beating a fast, joyful rhythm against her ribs. The heavy guilt that had been crushing her chest completely vanished, replaced by a warm, blooming sense of absolute wonder. She pressed her back against the cool wall of the corridor and looked at the ceiling.
"It all makes sense now," Delaney whispered softly to the empty hall.
The pieces of the puzzle fell perfectly into place. She remembered the very first day she had a conversation with Rowan concerning the kind of woman he wants for himself. She remembered the impossible, demanding list of criteria he had given her for his future bride.
She must be intelligent. She must be daring. She must know how to speak fluent French.
"His mystery woman," Delaney thought to herself, a beautiful smile spreading across her face. "All those criteria on knowing how to speak French and all that... he was not trying to be difficult. He was talking about me?"
