Page 37 of Claiming His Scottish Duchess (Scottish Duchesses #2)

THREE MONTHS LATER

I f only Faither was here to see this, Catriona thought to herself. I hope I have made ye proud.

Three months had passed since Mortridge’s arrest. The crisp Highland air carried the scent of heather and pine through the open windows of Craigleith Hall. Laughter echoed through the stone walls, a sound that had been absent for far too long.

The lush drawing room, usually reserved for more formal family gatherings, overflowed with a joyous mix of English and Scottish accents. Sumptuous treats and savory offerings cascaded along the buffet table, lit by ambient candelabras.

“I cannae believe how big ye are gettin’, me dear,” Lady Craigleith cooed as she sat down next to Lydia on the settee. “I am excited to show ye everythin’ at Craigleith Hall!”

Catriona, her cheeks flushed with happiness, watched her mother interact with Lydia. Her time back at Craigleith Hall had done her well. She was a softer, more contented version of the woman who had fretted over potential suitors and London seasons. She had found peace.

Lydia’s eyes were bright as she looked around the grand room, no doubt imagining what adventures would befall her. Her eyes were drawn to the mantle, where a large stag’s head was mounted above the fireplace.

“What happened to the big horsey?” she asked Lady Craigleith, as the room erupted in laughter.

“You can explain that one, Lady Craigleith,” Eliza joked as she played the piano forte, a lively tune to complement the lively conversation.

“This girl has an uncanny sense of humor,” Lady Marchant remarked as she took a sip of her gimlet. “This levity is just what I needed! London has become stifling, a bore really, since you all left. Let’s have a toast to our health, wealth, and happiness,” she offered as she raised her glass.

“Here here,” Lady Craigleith offered as she raised her wine glass. “It is a joy to be in such excellent company and to host ye here at our family’s treasured home. With much thanks to His Grace, of course.”

Richard gave a small nod in acknowledgement as the room grew silent to enjoy Eliza’s playing and fine voice.

“There is no comparison. There is nothing like a dry English gin to soften the edges,” Lady Marchant quipped as she sipped the last of her glass, after Eliza had just finished a song.

“I implore you to at least try some of this fine Scotch whisky, Lady Marchant,” Lord Northley implored, as he was very much enjoying his own beverage. “When in Rome, you know?”

She wrinkled her nose playfully, the combination of good drink and even better company fostering a casual atmosphere.

“Both have their merits, surely. Although please, pace yourselves,” Lady Northley chastised lightly. “We have more guests arriving shortly, and a dinner to get through yet!”

A flurry of greetings erupted from the entrance of the hall as the heavy oak doors swung open loudly. Catriona excused herself politely from the room and bolted to the door to greet her guests.

“Och, Isobel!” Catriona cried as she embraced her cousin. “I am so glad to have ye here!”

“We are so happy to join ye here,” Isobel replied, a wide smile on her face. “What a joyous time for us,” she said as she placed a gentle hand on Catriona’s shoulder.

Her face was radiant in a way that only true happiness can provide. She was accompanied by her husband, Adrian, and nestled in his arms was a tiny bundle wrapped in soft wool. Their infant daughter, Penelope, offered a coo as Catriona looked at her sweet face, tracing a finger along her soft cheek.

Lord Carrington followed close in their wake, giving a small bow upon his entrance. A wide, genuine smile lit up his face as Richard came to meet them all.

“Your Graces, what a welcome sight!” Michael exclaimed as he clapped his hands. “So much good company in such a beautiful place. Who could ask for more?”

“Truly, I do not know,” Richard said as he shook Michael’s hand and then Adrian.

“Tell me, is Lady Eliza about?” Michael asked excitedly.

Perhaps this is what true happiness is, Richard thought to himself as he looked at the company around the dining table. In the months that had passed, even he could see that he was a changed man. When he looked in the mirror, the haunted shadows had finally receded from his eyes.

Richard’s heart was overflowing with joy. His love was in her childhood home, filled with the people she loved most. For too long, there had been uncertainty and heartache.

He sat beside Catriona at dinner, his hand never leaving her knee from underneath the table. He traced small circles, taking comfort in her touch and the warmth of Craigleith Hall.

“The trial concluded swiftly,” Adrian offered when a subtle silence had come in the conversation. “Justice will be served, and he will hang for his crimes.”

“At last, it is done,” Richard said. A collective sigh of relief swept around the table.

“Let’s nae speak of that horrid situation again,” Lady Craigleith ordered as lady of the manor. “We have so many happier things to talk about.”

As the dinner plates were removed, Michael cleared his throat. A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes as he gently tapped his fork to his glass. Silence fell amongst the group as they waited with bated breath.

Michael reached for Eliza’s hand, his expression suddenly earnest. He seemed even nervous, which was most unlike him.

What in the devil is he up to? Richard wondered as he gave Catriona a curious glance, to which she shrugged.

“My dear friends,” he announced, his voice filled with heartfelt joy. “Eliza has done me the immense honor of agreeing to be my wife.”

“What happy news,” Lady Marchant exclaimed as she nearly dropped her drink. “This is cause for celebration indeed!”

“We could not be happier,” Lord Northley offered as he smiled at his only daughter. “Lord Carrington will be an excellent son-in-law. We are so pleased for you both. A toast!”

A chorus of delighted exclamations filled the room as they raised their glasses to the news. Catriona reached across the table and squeezed Eliza’s hand, her heart swollen with happiness for her dear friend.

Richard rose to his feet, walking over and clapping Michael on the shoulder. “Welcome to the club, my friend! I never thought I’d see the day when you would be a married man. How did you convince Lady Eliza to put up with you until death?” he joked as they all laughed.

“Och, Michael, that is wonderful news!” Lady Craigleith exclaimed, her eyes shining. “I am so honored that you chose to share such blessed news with us, here in this special place.”

“Indeed!” Lady Northley added. “We shall have another wedding to plan!”

The dessert course concluded, and Lydia was whisked away by one of the maids, bidding goodnight to the group and giving hugs to Richard and Catriona. Hot teas were offered as they savored a sumptuous lemon cake.

“You know,” Lady Marchant trailed off, tapping her fingers thoughtfully on her teacup.

“Ever since your rather unconventional courtship and marriage, Your Grace… Scottish lords and ladies have become quite the fashionable commodity in London. Suddenly, everyone is claiming to have a distant Highland relative!” She chuckled.

“Aye, if only Lady Abigail could see me now,” Catriona whispered to Eliza. “I hope she finds a highland warrior to put her in her place! That would serve her right!”

“You are too much, my dear friend,” Eliza laughed. “But I do hope you are right! I would love to see her eat her foul words!”

“Who knows what other intriguing members of the Scottish nobility might make an appearance in London next season?” Lady Marchant asked, her gaze lingering on Catriona and Richard.

The old woman had a knowing look in her eyes, hinting at the adventures that might lie ahead for them all.

“We are home,” Catriona sighed as they lay in bed later that evening, contentment coating her voice as she lay her head in the crook of Richard’s arm. “Home is here, with ye.”

Richard tightened his grip around her, his gaze soft as he looked at his wife.

“Yes,” he whispered in her ear, his voice tender. “We are. Although there is a certain place only you possess, which is truly my home. In fact, there is no place I would rather be,” he said as he kissed her deeply, and she blushed at the innuendo.

I hope he always makes me feel this way, she said as a smile crept across her cheeks.

Their lovemaking had continued to pick up, both in frequency and practice, in the last several weeks.

Catriona had talked with her Cousin Isobel in private earlier that evening, which was most informative.

As she weighed her husband’s words, a wicked idea pulled at her that filled her with determination.

“Do ye trust me, me love?” she asked as she looked into Richard’s crystal eyes.

“With all my heart, but what is the meaning of your question?”

“Get on yer back,” she commanded, with the same gruffness he often used. “Let me show ye how good ye make me feel. Give me control, me love.”

The force of her arousal was too much for her to take as she pushed him onto his back and straddled him. He laid back in surprise, clearly unable to expect what she was about to do.

She took his hard length in her hands and worked him for a moment or two before sliding him in between her slick folds, taking him deep inside of her in a single motion.

She began riding him in a tantric rhythm, working her hips in a circle as she arched her back. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she felt him grow harder and harder inside of her.

“I do not think this is legal,” he said as he began to breathe heavily. “You feel so good, Cat. I love looking up at you like this, your body is so beautiful from this angle. Your curves are otherworldly. You are a goddess.”

She took his words to heart as she began moving more frantically, picking up rhythm and pushing her weight onto him. He gasped for air as she neared her climax, not stopping or resting until they both reached a feverish end.

“You are mine,” he said as he cupped her face, cuddling her close and stroking her hair as they savored the moment.

“There is only ye for me,” she returned shakily, her orgasm subsiding and providing her with courage. “Although, there is someone else bein’ added into the mix.”

Richard looked at her, confused and trying to piece together the meaning of her words amid his post coital glow.

“What do you mean, my love?” He asked curiously.

“I am with child, Richard,” she said as he tenderly placed a hand on her stomach. “It is early, but I ken feel it in me bones already this wee bairn is a strong one. Our family is just beginnin’ and I am so happy. Tell me, are ye happy?”

“Catriona, no I am not happy,” he said, as her brow furrowed in worry.

“I…I…I…” she stuttered in shock.

“I am beyond happy,” he replied. “In fact, I do not think the English language has a word to define exactly how I feel. For now, I will settle for three words. I love you.”

The End?