Page 30 of Duke of Storme
“Even though it’s Lady MacPherson’s ball?”
“Especially then. Ye represent somethin’ they’ve never seen before – an English Duchess whochoseto stay in Scotland, who’s takin’ effort to learn their ways instead of dismissin’ them. That makes ye either very brave or very foolish, and they haven’t decided which yet.”
Diana straightened her shoulders. “Then I suppose I must convince them it’s the former.”
“Now,” Finn said simply, “dancing.”
Diana went very still. “I… I confess I am not familiar with Highland reels.”
“That’s why we’re here.” He moved to stand before her, extending his hands. “The basic step is simple enough. Like this.”
He demonstrated the fundamental movements of a Scottish reel – the quick, precise footwork that required both elegance and energy. Diana watched intently, then attempted to mirror his steps.
“You make it look effortless,” she said, slightly breathless from the attempt. “But I feel as though I’m about to trip over my own feet!”
“Ye’re not used to movin’ with such purpose,” Finn observed, watching her careful, measured steps. “In London ballrooms, the dancin’ is about grace and conversation. Here, it’s about celebration and community. Feel the difference.”
Diana nodded and tried her best to attempt the steps again, but her movement remained stiff and cautious. She was counting beats under her breath. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to master the peculiar rhythm.
“No, no,” Finn said, moving closer. “Ye’re thinkin’ too much. Just feel the rhythm.”
Without realizing what he was doing, he placed his hands at her waist, guiding her through the movement. The warmth of her body beneath his palms sent a familiar jolt through him.
Diana’s sharp intake of breath told him she felt it too – this strange awareness that crackled between them.
“Like this,” he said softly. “Let the music carry ye.”
Diana’s breath caught as his hands steadied her, and Finn was suddenly acutely aware of how close they stood. Her hands came up instinctively to rest on his shoulders, and for a moment they swayed together in the empty ballroom, without music, save the rhythm of their own heartbeats.
“I… I think I understand,” Diana said quietly, but she didn’t step away from his touch.
Neither did he.
For a moment, they stood there, frozen while the lesson was forgotten. The morning light painted her skin with warm gold, and Finn found himself thinking that she looked like something precious – something worth protecting.
The thought should have terrified him – not the protection itself, but the tenderness behind it, the way his chest tightened at the sight of her vulnerability. Caring this much was not something he could afford.
He dropped his hands and stepped back, clearing his throat. “Aye. Well. That’s enough for now.”
Diana blinked, as though coming back to herself. “Of course. Thank you for the instruction, Your Grace. It was most… enlightening.”
The formality of the address stung more than it should have. They’d simply been Finn and Diana in that tiny moment ofunexpected intimacy, but now they were Duke and Duchess once more, separated by titles and propriety.
“We should stop here for now. Mrs. MacAlpin will be here shortly.”
“Mrs. MacAlpin?”
“The seamstress. She’s... particular about her work. And her opinions.” Finn moved toward the door, needing distance and fresh air. “She’ll no doubt have thoughts about what ye should wear. Don’t let her force ye into something that isn’t … ye.”
He paused at the threshold, his hand on the doorframe. “Diana?”
She looked up at him, hope flickering in her eyes. “Yes?”
“Ye’re goin’ to be flawless,” he said quietly. “Don’t let anyone – includin’ yerself – convince ye otherwise.”
He left before Diana could respond because his heart was hammering like it had during his first sea battle.
What on earth was happening to him?
