Then, the main doors opened.

The cold wind from the hallway seemed to rush in with him.

Rowan stood in the doorway, his broad frame cutting an imposing figure against the bright hallway behind him.

He had discarded his muddy jacket and now wore a dark, perfectly fitted suit.

His hair was damp from the rain, and there was a faint, fresh scratch near his left temple.

Nobody else noticed the small mark, but I did.

He didn’t slip through the shadows this time.

He walked straight onto the ballroom floor, his boots making no sound on the polished wood.

A few guests turned to look at him, smiling and nodding in greeting.

He ignored them, his blue eyes locked onto Tessa.

Tessa turned her head, her smile faltering for a fraction of a second when she saw him.

She quickly recovered, her expression smoothing into a look of elegant delight.

“Rowan, darling,” she said loudly, stepping away from her group. “You made it.”

The guests around her stepped back, giving the couple space.

Rowan stopped exactly three feet in front of her.