Page 48 of Duke of Storme
“Lady Fraser, how lovely to see you. What a beautiful afternoon for tea, is it not? I particularly-”
“No.”
The single word stopped her dead. Her heart beat frantically as Finn moved toward her with an intent expression on his face.
“Ye’re still apologizin’. Still askin’ permission to exist in their space.”
He stepped behind her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body and smell the subtle scent of sandalwood and something uniquely masculine that wafted from his skin.
“A Duchess doesn’t ask permission,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “She grants audiences.”
Diana’s breath caught audibly as his proximity sent an unexpected jolt of awareness through her. When had she become so conscious of his physical presence? When had the sound of his voice begun to affect her like whisky, warming her from the inside out?
“Try again,” he said. “But this time, remember – they should feel honored that ye’ve chosen to spend yer afternoon in their company.”
Diana lifted her chin, drawing on reserves of confidence she wasn’t entirely sure she possessed.
“Lady Fraser,” she began, her voice stronger this time. “How delightful it is to join you.”
As she spoke, Finn’s hand came up to rest lightly at the small of her back, a touch so brief and proper it shouldn’t have affected her at all. But the contact sent sparks shooting through her, making her voice waver slightly.
She stumbled over her next words as her carefully practiced poise deserting her entirely.
“I… that is… I hope you’re all well…”
The moment she faltered, Finn stepped closer. His presence was both steadying and utterly unsettling. His fingers came up to lift her chin gently, tilting her face until she was forced to meet his gaze.
“Again,” he said quietly.
The touch was nothing more than two fingers on her chin, entirely proper and brief. But something in his gray-blue eyes made her pulse race and her mouth go dry with an awareness that had absolutely nothing to do with social instruction and everything to do with the way he was looking at her.
“Lady Fraser,” Diana said, her voice steadier now despite the chaos thrumming through her chest. “How lovely it is to see you again.”
The words came out confidently. Finn’s fingers lingered for just a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back, but not quickly enough to hide the way his own breathing had changed.
“Better,” he said, though his voice had gone rough around the edges.
Diana remained where she was, acutely aware of the space between them. She noticed the way the afternoon light caught the dark strands of his hair and she saw the barely controlled tension in his shoulders.
“When you look at me like that,” she said quietly, the words tumbling out before she could think to stop them, “are you proud, or are you afraid?”
The question hung in the air between them like smoke, inescapable. Finn’s jaw tightened, a single muscle jumping beneath the skin of his cheek.
For a long moment, he said nothing at all. Then he moved to the window, putting the width of the room between them. He clasped his hands behind his back in a pose that might have looked casual if not for the rigid set of his spine.
“The lesson is over,” he said finally.
But he didn’t answer her question – and they both knew that his silence was an answer in itself.
Diana watched him from across the room, noting the careful way he avoided her gaze, the deliberate distance he’d placed between them. Something had shifted in the space of that brief touch, in the moment when his fingers had gently lifted her chin and she’d witnessed something unguarded in his eyes.
The lessons, it seemed, were teaching them both far more than they expected.
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said quietly. “Thank you for the instruction.”
She moved toward the door with the same confidence he’d been trying to teach her. But just before she reached the threshold, she paused and looked back at him.
“Tomorrow, perhaps you might consider what lesson it is you need to learn, Your Grace,” she said softly. “Because I’m beginning to think you are the one who has forgotten how to be seen.”
