Page 43 of Duke of Storme
Diana stared at him, struck speechless by the accuracy. “That’s quite an observation from someone who only met me five minutes ago.”
“I’ve had practice reading people. We are kindred souls, I suspect.”
Mr. Calder cleared his throat diplomatically. “Her Grace looks mighty radiant this afternoon, does she not? The Highland air seems to agree with ye, Your Grace.”
“It does.” Diana agreed. “More than I expected.”
“And how are you finding married life?” Sir James asked with gentle teasing. “Is our fierce Duke treating you well?”
Diana felt her cheeks flush. “His Grace is… everything I expected him to be.”
Sir James laughed, and the sound was so infectious that Diana found herself laughing along. “You’ll make an excellent Duchess, Your Grace. You have the perfect balance of honesty and discretion. The Duke is a lucky man, indeed.”
“You’re too kind.”
“I’m truthful. There’s a difference. I hope the Duke realizes what a treasure he’s found.”
“I’m hardly a treasure, Sir James.”
“Now that,” he said with mock seriousness, “is the first thing you’ve said that I must, respectfully, disagree with.”
Diana’s laughter rang out once more across the garden, bright and genuine and completely unconscious of the man watching from the castle’s stone balcony above.
Good God. What is happening?
Finn’s hands gripped the stone balcony railing until his knuckles went white. His gray-blue eyes fixed on the scene unfolding in the garden below. Diana stood between Mr. Calder and some sandy-haired bastard he didn’t recognize, her face bright with laughter that cut through Finn like a Highland dirk. The sound drifted up on the autumn wind, genuine and musical in a way that made his chest tighten with unfamiliar pain.
When had she ever laughed like that with him? When had he ever seen her face light up with such unguarded joy or her brown eyes sparkling like stars?
“Enjoyin’ the view, Your Grace?”
Finn spun around to find Locke leaning against the doorway, his broad frame blocking the entrance with casual arrogance. A knowing smirk played around his friend’s lips, and there was something dark in his eyes that made Finn’s jaw clench.
“What are ye doin’ here?”
“Och, came to see how the lessons are progressin’.” Locke pushed off from the doorframe with fluid grace, moving to stand beside Finn at the railing. The Highland wind whipped through his dark hair as he gazed down at the garden scene with obvious amusement. “Though it seems yer wife is receivin’ instruction from someone else entirely at present.”
“She’s bein’ polite to a guest.”
“Is that what we’re callin’ it?” Locke’s hands came to rest on the stone beside Finn’s. His knuckles were scarred from year of naval battles and Highland brawls. “Because from here, it looks suspiciously like she’s enjoyin’ herself.”
Finn’s jaw tightened so much that a muscle started jumping beneath the skin as he watched Diana tilt her head back in delight at something the man said. The gesture was so unconsciously graceful, so truthfully animated, that it was like watching a different women entirely.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that it’s the first time I’ve seen her truly smile since I’ve arrived. And it’s certainly the first time I’ve heard her laugh.” Locke’s voice carried the weight of years of friendship, of shared battles and unspoken understanding. “Question is… why hasn’t she been laughin’ with ye?”
“Because we’re not–” Finn stopped abruptly, the words dying in his throat as he realized what he’d been about to admit.
“Not what? Friends? Lovers? Not truly married?” Locke’s voice carried an edge of challenge – the same tone he’d used once to question orders from incompetent superiors. “Because last I checked, she’s wearin’ yer ring and plannin’ yer dinner parties with remarkable competence.”
“How do ye know about the dinner party?”
“Mrs. Glenwright told me. Said the lass has already reorganized the entire staff schedule and sent orders to the wine merchant in Edinburgh.” Locke’s eyes glittered with something between amusement and concern. “Apparently, she knows more about entertainin’ Highland gentry than anyone expected.”
Finn said nothing. His eyes were still fixed firmly on Diana below. She had moved closer to the man now. Her wool cloak billowed around her petite frame as she gestured toward something in the distance. Evern from this height, he could see the enthusiasm in her posture, the way she leaned forward slightly while listening, completely engaged in the conversation.
“Ye know what yer problem is?” Locke continued, his voice dropping to the quieter tone he’d once used during their most grim conversations aboard theInterceptor.
