Page 74 of Duke of Storme
“You’re not that man anymore,” she whispered. “You don’t have to be.”
Finn stared down at their joined hands, at the stark contrast between his scarred knuckles and her smooth skin. When last had anyone touched him with such gentleness?
“Don’t,” he said, though he made no move to pull away. “Don’t try to save me, Diana. I’m not worth the effort.”
“You’re making assumptions about what I want from you,” she replied, her voice stronger now. “Assumptions you have no right to make.”
“I’m the one who knows what I am.”
“Are you?” Diana’s thumb traced across his knuckles with butterfly softness.
The simple words hit him like lightning, illuminating truths he’d been desperate to keep hidden even from himself. “Diana...”
“You were terrified,” she continued, her voice gentle but implacable. “Not angry that I’d disobeyed you, not concerned about propriety. Terrified. Because somewhere along the way, this stopped being about duty for you too.”
Lightning flashed outside, throwing the room into stark relief before plunging them back into firelight. In that moment of brilliant clarity, Finn saw himself as Diana must see him – not the inadequate pretender he’d always believed himself to be, but a man capable of love despite everything that had tried to beat it out of him.
“Aye,” he said finally, his voice barely audible above the storm. “It did.”
Diana’s breath caught, her fingers tightening around his. “Oh...”
“But that doesn’t change anythin’,” he said quickly, stepping back despite the loss of her warmth. “It doesn’t make this safe, Diana. It doesn’t make me worthy of what ye’re offerin’.”
“What am I offering?”
Finn met her gaze and saw hope there, fragile and fierce in equal measure. Hope that he could be the man she deserved. Hope that love might be possible even for someone like him.
Hope that terrified him more than any storm ever could.
“Everythin’,” he said simply. “And I don’t know how to accept it without destroyin’ it.”
Diana moved closer, close enough that he could smell the rain in her hair, could see the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat. “Then perhaps,” she said softly, “it’s time you learned.”
Thunder crashed overhead, shaking the very foundations of Storme Castle. But neither of them moved. They were caught in a moment that felt balanced on the edge of a precipice.
“The fire’s dying,” Diana observed softly, though neither of them looked away from each other.
“Aye,” Finn agreed. His hand came up to cover hers where it rested against his cheek. “We should both retire.”
“Should we?” Diana’s voice carried a note of challenge that made his chest tighten.
“Ye should,” he said, though his thumb traced across her knuckles in a caress that contradicted his words entirely. “Before I forget why keepin’ ye at a distance was ever a good idea.”
Diana’s lips curved in a smile that was equal parts innocent and knowing. “What if I don’t want to be kept at a distance anymore?”
Finn felt his carefully maintained control beginning to fray, felt the walls around his heart cracking under the pressure of everything he’d tried so hard to deny.
Diana rose on her toes. Her intentions were clear as her eyes fluttered closed and her face tilted toward his. For a heartbeat, Finn wavered on the edge of surrender.
Then he stepped back.
“Goodnight, Diana,” he said, his voice rough.
Her eyes flew open and disappointment flickering across her features. “Of course. Goodnight, Finn.”
Then she was gone, leaving Finn alone in the dying firelight with the echo of her words and the devastating realization that safe distances were becoming impossible to maintain.
Diana was no longer content to be kept at arm’s length, and he was no longer certain he wanted her there.
