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“Ye should rinse yer hair one more time,” she told him hastily as she ran towards the door.

Sampson called after her, but she quickly left the bathing room, running towards her chambers.

“Your Grace! I have been searching all over for you! Where were—Your Grace! You’re soaking wet! Are you all right? What happened?” Anna gasped, stumbling onto her path with a worried expression.

“It was a small accident. Anna. Do not fret,” Catherine reassured, but the younger woman was insistent.

“You must change out of your dress immediately. Shall I have someone bring you some warm water for a bath?”

“No!” Catherine exclaimed suddenly.

Confused, Anna merely stared at her.

At that moment, Catherine wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

“No baths,” she said quietly. “I would simply like a change of clothes.”

“All right, Your Grace. Let us get you into dry clothes,” Anna said gently, ushering her into her room.

The maid made quick work of the knots and buttons that held the dress securely, so Catherine could slip out of it quickly and into something dryer and more comfortable.

“Would you like anything else, Your Grace?” Anna asked softly, clearly confused by the sight of Catherine in this state when she had been so animated and eager to play earlier.

“A tassie, perhaps?”

Anna had begun to spend a considerable amount of time with the Duchess and was slowly learning her dialect. It was not much yet, but enough for her to know that her mistress had just asked for a cup of tea.

“Of course. I shall return soon with a cup,” she promised.

Catherine watched her go and waited for a few moments after the door had closed behind her before she pressed her face into her pillow and screamed.

She could scarcely believe what happened. And yet her lips still tingled, and she could still taste him on her tongue, the spicy heat of scotch making her dizzy and light-headed.

Is it always like that? Kissing?

Her mother had tried her best to prepare her for intimate acts like that, but Catherine felt strange thinking of her, so she had asked them to simply cross their fingers and hope she wouldn’t humiliate herself.

Which she might have done now.

“Och, ye absolute dobber,” she groaned, recalling how she had run away.

She felt utterly embarrassed. But more than that, she felt scared of her desire. She had wanted more. She had wanted more kisses. She had craved more of his hands on her.

His touch felt so warm and grounding, as though she was made to fit perfectly into his arms. And his kiss took away every thought from her consciousness, filling her mind with chants of him. She had wanted to remain there until he had kissed her name from her memory. She had wanted all that he would offer.

It took her by storm because lately, in the dead of night, as she drifted off into slumber, she had wondered if perhaps Sampson did not think she was attractive. Because why else would he not make a move to touch her when she had stood naked in front of him?

This time, however, it was quite obvious that he felt something because he had held her as if he never wanted her to leave his sight. He had kissed her as though he wanted to drink the essence of her soul.

How am I supposed to go about my life when such a thing has occurred? What do I do?

Anna returned with a cup of tea and handed it to her with a concerned look, before announcing that she had some duties to attend to and excusing herself. Catherine had dismissed her easily, settling back to wallow in shame, in private.

Suddenly, she recalled what Sampson had said when they were talking about what a home was. It was sad that he had not experienced the love and warmth that raised her into the woman she was.

Her beliefs and opinions were shaped by the way her parents had raised not only her but her siblings as well. Her parents might have not been the wealthiest, but they made sure their children had everything they needed. Physically and emotionally.

And although Sampson said that home was merely a building, deep down she knew that he yearned to be shown otherwise.