Page 92 of Duke of Storme
“Take me home, Finn,” she said softly. “Take me home to Storme Castle. But this time... this time I want to go as your wife. Really and truly. In every way that matters.”
Finn stared at her outstretched hand for a heartbeat, understanding the enormity of what she was offering him. Not just forgiveness, not just another chance, but a true beginning. A choice made with open eyes and a full heart.
He took her hand in both of his, bringing it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to her palm.
“Aye,” he whispered against her skin. “Let’s go home, my love. Let’s go home and start our real marriage.”
Diana stared at him in wonder, as though seeing him clearly for the first time. Not the controlled Duke who’d taught her to waltz, not the distant husband who’d pushed her away, but simply the man who knelt beside her bed with his heart laid bare.
A man who had finally learned that some things were worth the risk of breaking.
And as Diana’s fingers tightened around his, as she chose love over fear and trust over safety, Finn understood that this wasn’t the end of their story.
It was the true beginning of their marriage.
EPILOGUE
“Where has he gone off to now?”
Diana murmured the question to the empty bedchamber while running her fingers over the still-warm sheets where Finn should have been. One month of marriage – their true marriage – and she was still discovering his habits. Like his tendency to rise before dawn when he had something important planned.
“Your Grace?”
Isla, her newly appointed lady’s maid, entered with an armful of morning sunlight and a knowing smile. “His Grace requests ye join him in the solarium when ye’re ready.”
Diana sat up, immediately intrigued. “The solarium? But that room has been closed off since–”
“Not anymore, Your Grace. He’s been workin’ on it for days. Had half the staff haulin’ furniture and flowers about like we were preparin’ for the King himself!”
On the bed lay a gown Diana had never seen before – deep purple silk the color of Highland heather, with delicate gold embroidery that caught the morning light like fairy dust.
“He chose this himself?” Diana asked, running her fingers over the exquisite fabric.
“Aye, had it sent from Edinburgh. Said it had to be perfect for today.” Isla’s eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement. “Though he wouldn’t tell us what today is, exactly.”
Diana allowed herself to be dressed, curiosity building with each careful arrangement of silk and each pin placed in her hair. The gown fit as though it had been made for her—which, she realized, it probably had been.
“Isla,” she said as the maid fastened a strand of pearls around her neck, “do you know if anyone else has arrived this morning?”
“Well, there’s Lord MacRae, of course. And...” Isla’s grin widened. “Yer sisters arrived at first light. Been whisperin’ with His Grace for the better part of an hour.”
“My sisters?” Diana’s heart leaped. “They are here?”
“Aye, and looking very pleased with themselves, if I may say so.”
Diana practically flew from her chamber, following the light-filled corridors toward the east wing of the castle. As she drew closer to the solarium, she could hear voices – familiar, beloved voices – drifting through the morning air.
The door to the solarium stood open, and Diana paused on the threshold, her breath catching at the sight before her.
The room had been completely transformed. Where once there had been dust and neglect, now sunlight poured through gleaming windows onto polished floors. Fresh flowers filled every corner – heather and beautiful blooming roses, bluebells and wild Highland foliage and wildflowers that made the air smell like freedom itself.
At the center of the room stood a long table, beautifully set with the finest china and crystal, laden with warm pastries, fresh fruit, and all manner of breakfast delicacies. At the far end of the table, Lord Silas stood with his characteristic weathered dignity, while Lady Prudence adjusted the placement of the roses with the exacting precision Diana remembered from countless formal dinners. The scene was perfect, intimate, and utterly unexpected.
“Diana!” Lydia’s voice rang out as she spotted her sister in the doorway. “There you are, dearest. Come in, come in!”
“What is all this then?” Diana asked, stepping into the room with wonder written across her face.
“Oh, I think you should ask your husband that,” Jane said with a meaningful smile, gesturing toward the head of the table.
