Page 76 of Duke of Storme
“Could it have waited?” Diana stepped toward him, her eyes flashing. “How long would you have your tenants suffer for convenience?”
“That’s not the point!”
“Then what is?” Diana demanded, her voice rising. “Because it looks like you expect me to hide inside like porcelain while real people haverealproblems!”
Finn stared at her, dripping wet and magnificent in her fury, and felt something snap inside his chest.
“The point,” he said, his voice deadly quiet, “is that ye could have slipped on those paths and broken yer neck. Caught fever. Been hurt or lost or worse, all to prove what? That ye’re not afraid of weather?”
“I was proving I’m not afraid of doing what’s right!” Diana shot back, stepping closer. “Something you’ve forgotten in your determination to control every aspect of my existence!”
“Control? I’m tryin’ to keep ye safe!”
“Safe from what? From caring? From making decisions? From being more than an ornament in your castle?”
“Ye’re not an ornament!”
“Then stop treating me like one!” Diana’s chest heaved with emotion, rain streaming down her face. “Stop deciding what I can do, where I can go, who I can help!”
Finn raked a hand through his soaked hair, frustration and fear warring in his expression. “Ye’re my wife, Diana. Yer safety is my responsibility.”
“I’m not your responsibility!” The words exploded from her. “I’m not your possession to be managed and protected and kept on a shelf!”
“That’s not–”
“You’re afraid!” Diana interrupted, her voice cutting through the storm. “You’re afraid of everything you feel, Finn. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t see it.”
Finn went very still, breathing harsh as he stared at her through the rain.
“Ye think ye know me?” he asked, voice low.
“I think I want to,” Diana said, softer but no less determined. “But you won’t let me. Every time I get close, you retreat behind walls and pretend it never happened.”
“Maybe it’s better that way.”
“Better for whom?” Diana stepped closer, close enough to see water droplets on his lashes. “Better for you, so you can keep telling yourself you don’t need anyone? Or for me, so I can pretend I don’t care?”
Finn’s jaw clenched. “Diana–”
“Last night you told me you don’t believe in love,” she continued, gaining strength. “You said you believe in surviving, in keeping people distant. But what if I don’t want distance anymore?”
“Ye don’t understand what ye’re askin’.”
“Don’t I?” Diana reached up, her hand touching his cheek despite the rain. “I’m asking you to stop being terrified of wanting something good. To trust that maybe you deserve happiness.”
Finn’s eyes searched her face for uncertainty, for any reason to retreat. But Diana met his gaze steadily, rain-soaked and unafraid.
“And if I destroy it?” he asked, barely audible above the storm. “If I ruin this like everything else?”
“Then we’ll face that together,” Diana said simply. “But what if you don’t? What if you help create something beautiful?”
They stood frozen while the Highland storm raged, caught on the precipice of everything. Diana could see the war in Finn’s eyes – fear against hope, self-preservation against need.
“Diana,” he said, her name a warning and prayer combined.
“I know it’s terrifying,” she whispered, moving closer until only breath separated them. “But I’m not going anywhere, Finn. No matter how hard you try to push me away.”
And then Finn’s control shattered entirely.
