Page 94 of Duke of Storme
“Finn, ye don’t need to–”
“Aye, I do.” He stood suddenly, moving to kneel beside her chair as he had that day in the London inn. But this time there was no desperation in the gesture, only love and certainty. “Diana Hurriton, Duchess of Storme, will ye do me the honor of marryin’ me? Really and truly this time?”
The question hung in the air, beautiful and perfect. Around the table, their family watched in respectful silence, understanding the significance of this moment.
“We’re already married, you ridiculous man,” Diana said through her tears.
“Aye, but not the way we should have been. Not with love and joy and celebration.” His voice dropped to that intimate register that never failed to make her heart race. “Marry me again, Diana. Here, today, with everyone who matters watchin’. Let me love ye properly this time, show the world that ye’re not just my Duchess, or my hope – ye’re my heart.”
“Oh, Finn,” Diana breathed as her hands came up to frame his face. “Yes. Yes, of course, yes!”
The table erupted in cheers and applause as Finn surged to his feet, pulling Diana up with him for a kiss that was entirely improper for such a public setting and absolutely perfect, nonetheless.
Lord Silas cleared his throat with obvious emotion, while Lady Prudence pressed her handkerchief to her eyes as she murmured, “This is exactly as it should be.”
“Well,” Locke drawled when they finally broke apart, “if we’re done with the dramatics, could we perhaps eat? Some of us have been awake since before dawn arrangin’ this romantic nonsense.”
“Romantic nonsense?” Jane raised an eyebrow.
“Completely,” Locke agreed cheerfully. “Nauseatin’, really. But when yer best friend finally stops bein’ a complete arse and falls properly in love, ye do what ye must.”
“Hear, hear,” Richard said, raising his coffee cup. “To romantic nonsense and the fools brave enough to embrace it.”
“And to the women patient enough to wait for them to come to their senses while they choose them over and over again,” Elias added quietly, earning himself a brilliant smile from Lydia.
As laughter filled the sunny room and conversation flowed around the table, Diana found herself studying each beloved face, memorizing this moment of perfect contentment. But it was Finn who held her attention most – the way he made sure her cup never emptied, the way he listened to her sisters’ teasing with genuine amusement, the way his eyes kept finding hers across the table with expressions of such tender devotion that it made her chest ache.
“What are you thinking,mo chridhe?” he murmured during a lull in conversation.
“I was thinking about that first dinner,” Diana said softly. “When Jane and Lydia visited before. How different everything is now.”
“Different how?”
Diana considered the question, looking around the sunlit room filled with love and laughter. “Then, I was so afraid of disappointing you. So worried about saying the wrong thing or being the wrong sort of Duchess. I spent the entire evening trying to be what I thought you wanted instead of just... being myself.”
“And now?”
“Now I know that being myself is enough. More than enough – it’s what you fell in love with.” She reached for his hand under the table, threading their fingers together. “I’m not afraid anymore, Finn. Not of your love, not of mine, not of anything we might face together.”
The smile that spread across his face was radiant. “Good. Because I have plans for ye, Diana Hurriton. Grand plans that will require all the courage and strength and stubbornness ye possess.”
“Oh? And what sort of plans might those be?”
Instead of answering immediately, Finn stood and moved to stand behind her chair, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. The room grew quiet as everyone turned their attention to him.
“I want to build somethin’ here,” he said, his voice carrying easily through the room. “Not just a marriage, but a legacy. I want our children to grow up knowin’ they’re loved, surrounded by family who will fight for them the way Diana’s fought for everyone she cares about. I want to fill this castle with laughter and music and all the warmth it’s been lackin’ for too long.”
“Children?” Diana’s voice came out as barely a whisper.
Finn’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “Aye. If ye want them. Little lasses with their mother’s kind heart and stubborn streak, little lads who’ll learn to be gentlemen but never lose their Highland fire.”
“I do want that,” Diana said, her voice growing stronger. “All of it. Everything.”
“Then you’d better get started,” Lydia said practically, though her eyes were suspiciously bright. “You’re not getting any younger, either of you.”
“Lydia!” Diana gasped, scandalized.
“What? It’s true. Besides,” she added with a wicked grin, “I, for one, am eager to see what sort of children result from the union of Brandon stubbornness and Highland determination.”
