Through Gypsy Eyes by Killarney Sheffield Page B

most, Teresa.”
    “Hmm … I should think the deep violet muslin, for it matches your eyes so beautifully.”
    Delilah tried to recall the exact shade of her eyes, but the color eluded her memory. “A good choice, Teresa.” Standing, she held up her arms to be clothed with the delicate gown. “I feel like I am being cheated, like I’m cheating myself.”
    Teresa’s gentle hands guided Delilah to turn around and then she began to do up the tiny row of buttons along the back of the gown. “How so, miss?”
    “One’s wedding day should be filled with excitement and anticipation. I cannot help but wish I was marrying some handsome young man who spouts poetry to my loveliness and makes my heart flutter. It sounds silly I know.”
    “It does not sound silly at all. The baron is not unhandsome, if you’ll permit me saying, miss.”
    “Perhaps, but this is hardly the day of my dreams. If my father were still here … ” Delilah squared her shoulders. “Listen to me pining on about silly dreams. I agreed to the arrangement because it is practical and accomplishes my goal.” When Teresa fastened the last button Delilah turned around and favored her with a weak smile. “It is almost time.”
    • • •
    The clock downstairs didn’t finish striking twelve when the knock Delilah was dreading came. She turned to face it as the maid hurried to open the door. Goosebumps rose along her arms from the slight draft as it opened.
    The earl cleared his throat. “You look lovely, Miss Daysland.”
    “I shall have to take your word for it,” she snapped. “I am sorry, my lord, thank you for the compliment. I am nervous and did not mean to be short.”
    His footsteps whispered across the carpet and then ceased before her. “That is perfectly understandable. Perhaps on such a momentous occasion we can dispense with the formality? Call me Tyrone.” Warm fingers closed over hers and then he placed a wide flat box on her palm. “I brought you a wedding gift.”
    She ran her fingers over the textured surface. “What is it?”
    “Open it and find out.”
    Curious, she fingered the clasp and lifted the lid. Following the line of the box, she slid her hand down to rest on something smooth and cold, tracing the object in a circle with her fingertips. It was a necklace she realized, with tiny teardrop stones dangling at regular intervals along its chain. “Thank you, Tyrone. I am sure it is lovely.”
    “Here, I will put it on you.”
    She pivoted so he could slide the cool gems around her neck and couldn’t help shivering when his rough fingers brushed her nape as he fumbled with the clasp.
    “They match your eyes, you know.”
    “Violet?”
    “More dark like your eyes when you are angry.” He finished with the clasp and placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her back to face the door.
    Her heart fluttered in her chest as his hands remained lightly on her shoulders. She should be angry at his comment, but instead a sense of breathless anticipation tightened her chest. Attraction to him was foolhardy. He was the enemy. Wasn’t he?
    “I never lie.”
    The echo of a slamming door broke the moment and he stepped away. “Come, the guests await you in the chapel.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and escorted her downstairs.
    Her chest grew tighter as she was overtaken by a moment of sheer panic. The closer they got to the estate’s chapel, the louder the guests’ voices became. Her palms grew moist with sweat. Little by little her distress increased. The struggle for air became more difficult as the panic attack intensified.
    “Delilah?”
    The concern in Tyrone’s voice gave her something to cling to, to focus on in order to stay afloat in the tidal wave of fear engulfing her.
What if I have made a mistake? What if Augustus does not live up to his word? All these people … watching … staring … witnessing my fate.
Her fingers clawed his arm.
    “Delilah? Are you all right?”
    “I need to sit.” Her