Page 85 of Duke of Storme
“Then ye’re a fool.” The words emerged raw and bleeding, torn from somewhere deep in his chest. “And I won’t let ye waste yer life on foolishness.”
Diana absorbed this final insult with the grace of someone who’d learned to find strength in unexpected places. Something shifted in her expression – not defeat, but a kind of weary recognition that cut deeper than any angry outburst.
“You know what breaks my heart, Finn?” she asked softly, each word falling like tears onto stone. “It’s not that you don’t think you deserve love. It’s that you’ve convinced yourself that running away is the same thing as protecting people.”
“Diana–”
“You’ve said enough.” She moved toward the door with unhurried elegance. “You want a Duchess carved from Highland granite, don’t you? Someone who won’t feel when you push them away, won’t care when you disappear, won’t notice when you choose fear over every other possible emotion?”
Finn’s hands clenched at his sides, every muscle straining with the effort of maintaining distance from the woman he was systematically destroying. “That’s not what I want.”
“But it’s what you’re demanding.” Diana paused at the threshold without granting him the mercy of her gaze. “Here’s what you failed to consider in your careful calculations, Your Grace. Stone doesn’t feel anything at all. Stone doesn’t hope or dream or reach for something better than mere survival.”
Her voice dropped to something barely audible, forcing him to strain forward despite his obvious desire to retreat.
“Stone doesn’t love. And I do. I feel everything, Finn. Including the fact that you’re about to shatter my heart to protect your own.”
She stepped across the threshold without looking back, her footsteps fading down ancient corridors like a melody he’d never hear again. Finn stood frozen in the empty doorway, Diana’s words echoing through his consciousness with the persistence of Highland wind.
Stone doesn’t love. And I do.
She loved him. This extraordinary woman who’d transformed from careful compliance into blazing authenticity loved him despite his brutal determination to remain unloved.
And instead of joy, all he felt was crushing terror.
Because love meant trusting someone with pieces of yourself that could be obliterated. Love meant believing happiness was possible when experience had taught him that hope was just postponed disappointment.
Diana’s love wasn’t demanding or conditional. It was offered freely, like sunlight warming everything it touched without expecting anything in return.
Which made it more dangerous than any enemy he’d faced.
The drawing room felt like a tomb suddenly. Its elegant appointments closed around him like burial shrouds. Mrs. Glenwright appeared as if summoned by his distress. Her sharp eyes catalogued his haggard appearance.
“Cook requires numbers for tonight’s dinner, Your Grace.”
“I’ll take my meal in the study. The Duchess dines alone.”
“Very good, Your Grace. And tomorrow’s departure arrangements?”
“No farewell breakfast. I leave before dawn.”
“Should I inform Her Grace of the precise time?”
“She’s aware.”
Another lie, but Finn couldn’t admit he planned to flee like a coward rather than face those knowing brown eyes again.
Mrs. Glenwright’s disapproval was evident despite her professional discretion. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
She departed, leaving Finn alone with his cowardice and the growing certainty that he was destroying the best thing that had ever happened to him.
But what choice did he have? Diana deserved someone who could love without reservation, someone who wouldn’t see her affection as another burden to bear.
She deserved better than a man who’d learned that caring was just another word for eventual loss.
Even if leaving felt like cutting out his own heart with a dull blade.
Whisky burned like liquid remorse as Finn sat alone in the drawing room where his wife had just delivered her devastating truth. Diana’s words echoed through his consciousness with the persistence of Highland wind, each syllable a small knife turning in wounds he’d thought long healed.
