Page 25 of His Scottish Duchess (The Dukes of Sin #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“ I wonder, where did I put my shawl?”

Sampson shifted his attention to his wife, his heart swelling at the sight of her moving about the room. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating her busy form with an ethereal glow that made her look even more angelic than usual.

It was strange, how content he was to simply watch her, his veins thrumming with a sensation foreign to him—one he could only assume was peace.

They had just come from breakfast with her family, and the whole affair had been just as chaotic as it usually was when her family was in the same room.

“Ye must allow the Duke to eat, Graham. I’m sure he would answer all yer questions at a more opportune time,” Mary had chastised gently.

“Listen to Maither and shut yer mouth, ye little brat,” Margaret chastised as she fed Isobel some bits of toast dipped in lightly fried egg yolk. “He’s goin’ to get indigestion if ye keep botherin’ him.”

“I just want to ken more about his work. Faither says that a man must have several skills to survive manhood. I would like to amass a good amount of knowledge before I am old enough to take over the family business,” Graham protested with a pout.

“Big words for a wee lad who was caught rollin’ around in a pile of dead leaves the gardener had just raked a few days ago.”

“That was—Maither!”

“Darlings, please allow us to have our breakfast in peace,” Mary sighed tiredly, her gaze shifting to her second daughter, who had merely been pushing her food around her plate. “Are ye all right, dear?”

“Hmm?” Catherine looked up, her eyes unfocused as she stared in her mother’s direction. “Oh—yes. I am quite well, Mama. Just… tired. I did not sleep well last night.”

Her admission had filled Sampson with guilt and concern, as he had been quite exhausted after his return the night before and he simply climbed into their bed, not realizing that she had been having difficulty resting.

“Are you sure you would not rather stay behind?” he questioned softly.

Catherine shook her head and smiled gently. “No, thank you, darling. I would much rather go with you.”

Sampson had long since given up trying to refuse Catherine what she wanted, so he nodded and smiled back at her, ignoring the part of him that buzzed at the fact that she was willing to forgo rest just to remain at his side.

“If that is what you want, my dear.”

Now, Sampson watched her from where he stood by the window, his thoughtful gaze trained on her, noting that her movements lacked their usual grace. They were preparing to leave, the carriage due to arrive shortly to take them south. He had an important meeting in York, one that couldn’t be postponed, necessitating their return to England and cutting their stay in Scotland short.

But as he continued to observe Catherine, his unease grew. She appeared distracted, a slight hesitation reflected in her actions. Her delicate fingers fumbled with the buttons of her traveling gown, her brow furrowed in concentration as if she was struggling to grasp a complex problem.

Earlier, she misplaced her gloves and searched for them for ten whole minutes, her confused murmurs bordering on whines, only to find them in the pocket of her coat moments later. Her mistakes were uncharacteristic when he considered how she was usually so poised, and they did not escape his notice.

“Catherine,” he began, his voice gentle, breaking the silence.

She looked up, her green eyes widening slightly, a hint of surprise on her face. “Yes, Sampson?”

He stepped closer, his gaze searching hers. “Is everything all right? You seem… preoccupied.”

Catherine hesitated for a moment, her lips pursed as if choosing her words carefully. He saw a shadow of disappointment cross her features, and his first thought was that perhaps their time in Scotland had been too short, that she hadn’t gotten to spend enough time with her family.

All too aware of their closeness, Sampson realized that visiting her family, without staying for too long, would worsen—rather than heal—her homesickness.

A pang of guilt resonated within him, followed by waves of regret and remorse. He had been so focused on business matters that he had ignored her desire to remain in Scotland for a little while longer.

“I know our stay was brief,” he began, reaching for her hand, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. “But I promise you, Catherine, we will return. And when we do, we will stay for a month, perhaps even longer—for as long as you need. You will have ample time with your family then.”

As the words left his lips, a warmth spread through him, an unfamiliar tenderness that felt both natural and right.

“I know how much they mean to you, love. We will not be away for too long.”

The term of endearment had slipped on instinct, a spontaneous expression of his steadily growing affection for her. Before Sampson could second-guess his actions, he saw the effect it had on her, and his chest swelled with pride.

Her eyes widened, her breath hitched, and a delicate blush bloomed on her cheeks. Her heart had skipped a beat—he could feel it in the slight tremor of her hand.

“Love,” she repeated softly, the word a caress on her lips. “I… I love hearing you say that, Sampson.”

Her gaze softened, all trace of distraction vanishing, replaced by a tender warmth that mirrored his affection.

“I’ll say it more then, my dear wife,” he promised without hesitation.

He leaned closer, pulled in by the desire to comfort her even further, smiling slightly as she raised her hand to his face slowly, her fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw.

Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss that spoke volumes of the emotions that had been building within the crevices of Sampson’s being. The world outside the room seemed to fade away, his focus solely on his wife, her wellness, and her happiness, as if nothing else mattered.

Not to him, not then.

The moment was shattered by a sharp knock on their door.

“Your Graces,” a footman’s voice called from the other side. “The carriage is ready for your departure.”

A sigh escaped their lips simultaneously, and they stared at each other in surprise for a moment, then burst into a fit of laughter.

“We’ll be out shortly,” Sampson called back, stealing one more kiss from his wife’s lips, then another because of the adorable gasp she had let out.

Reluctantly, they broke apart, but the warmth of what had transpired between them lingered, tucked between Sampson’s ribs as they left the room hand in hand.

Downstairs, Catherine’s family awaited them, their expressions a mixture of affection and a touch of sadness at their departure, starkly contrasting their energetic display at breakfast. Her father stepped forward, his eyes flickering with emotions Sampson could fairly recognize as the Baron clasped his hand firmly.

“Thank ye for comin’, Yer Grace,” Fergus said, his voice carrying a genuine warmth. “We were glad to have ye in our home, even if it was but for a wee while. Ye’re welcome back anytime, mind.”

Mary, her eyes a little misty, fussed over Catherine, adjusting her shawl and offering last-minute advice. “Safe travels to ye both. Mind yerselves on the roads, and dinnae let the coachman drive like a madman, Yer Grace.”

Margaret and Graham offered their farewells with a surprising degree of warmth.

“Farewell, Catherine,” Margaret said, offering a rare, genuine smile that differed from the teasing smirk she wore more often than not. “Dinnae be a stranger now, ye hear?”

“Aye. Safe journey, Yer Grace,” Graham added, firmly shaking Sampson’s hand. “It was good havin’ ye here.”

Sampson felt a surprising rush of emotion at their words. This familial warmth, so freely offered, was a stark contrast to the often-strained interactions he had experienced with his brother.

He had not thought about Thomas in that way since they were both children. But with all of the new, surprising interactions between his wife’s family and him, he was left with no choice but to admit what he already knew.

His own family had been twisted, up until the day they inevitably fell apart. All of the times he had spent with Catherine’s parents and siblings were novel experiences that made him feel a sense of belonging—something that his childhood had sorely lacked.

“I will continue to take good care of her—no, even better. I am sorry that we are unable to stay longer. But we will certainly be back, and perhaps then, we will remain for a longer period. If you will have us.”

“Certainly! My home is always open for ye, Yer Grace. Ye are my daughter’s husband, and as such, ye are a part of this family. Ye will always be welcome here,” Fergus said with a grin.

“Thank you,” Sampson returned, a little overwhelmed with gratitude and a twinge of alarm. “The same goes for you and your family. My door will always be open to you. Please, visit whenever you wish—for Catherine. And… call me Sampson. I insist.”

Fergus grinned, squeezing Sampson’s hand warmly. “Only if ye graciously extend the favor and call me by my name.”

Sampson swallowed and nodded. “Take care, Fergus.”

“And ye, Sampson.”

As he took Catherine’s hand and led her to the waiting carriage, he could feel her tense up with every step that took her further and further away from her family.

In the carriage, Sampson ensured she was comfortable, before ordering the coachman to take off.

Catherine was silent for a moment, then she moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder and exhaling deeply.

“It’s getting easier,” she said after a while.

“What is, my love?” Sampson asked, his lips curling into a smile when she blushed at the term of endearment again.

“Leaving. Being away from them. At first, I was worried I was never going to get used to living without everything I had ever known. I feared that it would only grow harder and harder to thrive, with them so far away. But it was not so difficult just now. I thought it would be, but as you held my hand, I felt strong enough not to let the despair consume me. I am grateful to have you.”

Her words added to the flames of the emotions he was barely managing to keep at bay, and his heart clenched with a feeling he could only describe as joy.

“I am glad that my presence made things much better for you, Catherine. I can only hope it gets even easier for you, dearest wife,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She burrowed closer in contentment, mumbling so quietly that he failed to hear the words she said, and assumed they were not meant for his ears.

“Perhaps it’s because I love you so… and as such, my heart feels safe with you. I can only hope you feel the same.”