Page 77 of Duke of Storme
His hands came up to frame her face as his fingers tangled in wet hair. He pulled her toward him with desperate hunger. When his mouth crashed down on hers, it wasn’t gentle or polite or anything resembling London propriety. It was raw, hungry, and filled with everything he’d buried beneath weeks of careful distance. Diana’s hands flew to his chest, not to push away but to fist in his coat and pull him closer, deeper, into the kiss that felt like drowning and salvation.
The rain fell around them in sheets, but neither cared. Finn’s mouth moved against hers with desperate intensity, pouring every unspoken confession into her soul. Diana responded with equal fervor, her lips parting with eagerness that would have shocked her former self. This was fire and storm and complete destruction of every wall they’d built. Finn’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her against him until she could feel his heartbeat through sodden clothes.
“Diana,” he groaned against her mouth, her name a confession he’d been too afraid to make.
She answered by pressing closer. Her arms slid around his neck as she gave herself completely to the kiss. Every sensation heightened – the taste of rain on his lips, warmth of his breath, and the way his hands trembled as they held her.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, they remained pressed together. Finn’s forehead rested against hers and he closed his eyes as though he could memorize the moment.
“Christ,” he whispered, accent thick with emotion. “Diana, I–”
“I know,” she said softly, fingers tracing his jaw. “I know.”
Finn couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything except stare down at the woman in his arms and try to comprehend what had happened.
He’d kissed his wife. Not the careful, proper kiss of arrangement, but something desperate and consuming that left him feeling stripped of every defense he’d ever possessed. And she’d kissed him back. Diana had met his passion with her own, had pulled him closer instead of pushing away, and had responded to his hunger with eagerness that made his head spin.
“We should go inside,” he said, though he made no move to release her. “Ye’re soaked through.”
“So are you,” Diana pointed out, breathless.
“Aye.” His hands remained at her waist, unwilling to break connection even as they both shivered. “Diana, what we just did–”
“Was real,” she interrupted softly. “Don’t you dare dismiss it as something else.”
Finn studied her face, noting rain-darkened lashes, the flush in her cheeks that had nothing to do with cold. She looked like a woman thoroughly kissed, and knowing he’d put that expression there sent primitive satisfaction through him.
“It changes things,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” Diana agreed. “It does.”
“There’s no goin’ back from this, Diana. No pretendin’ we’re just fulfilling an arrangement.”
“Good,” she said with surprising firmness. “I’m tired of pretending, Finn. Tired of walking on eggshells, tired of acting like I don’t care when you push me away.”
Her honesty hit him like a chest blow. “Ye shouldn’t care. It’s safer if ye don’t.”
“Safer for whom?” Diana’s hands moved to his chest, burning through wet fabric. “For you, so you can keep convincing yourself you don’t deserve affection? Or for me, so I can live half a life?”
“Diana–”
“I won’t do it anymore,” she continued. “I won’t pretend this marriage means nothing. I won’t act like I don’t notice how you look at me when you think I’m not watching. And I won’t pretend that kiss didn’t happen.”
Finn felt his throat constrict as the walls around his heart threatened to crumble. “Ye don’t know what ye’re sayin’.”
“You seem to think that quite a lot, but I assure you, I do, Finn.” Diana’s eyes met his with unwavering directness. “I’m saying I refuse to live like strangers. I’m saying I want this marriage to be real, not just convenient.”
“And if I can’t give ye what ye want?”
“Then at least I’ll know I tried.” Diana’s thumb traced across his chest where his heart hammered. “At least I’ll know I didn’t hide from the possibility of something beautiful.”
The words cut through him, laying bare every fear about love and loss and terrible vulnerability. But looking at Diana – rain-soaked, defiant, magnificent – Finn realized hiding had become impossible. She’d seen through every defense, refused to be kept at safe distance. And instead of running when she’d glimpsed the wounded man beneath ducal polish, she’d stayed. Fought. Demanded he see himself as worthy of more than survival.
“Ye’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met,” he said, voice rough with suppressed emotion.
“Good,” Diana replied, moving closer until she was pressed against him. “Someone needs to be stubborn enough to fight for this.”
“For what?”
