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

CHAPTER FIVE

“ A game?”

Catherine eyed the wine glass in front of her warily. The deep red liquid swirled gently, catching the light of the flickering candles. Across from her, Sampson had settled in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the wood.

“Come now, Duchess,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “Are you afraid of a little game?”

Catherine lifted her chin. “I’m afraid of what ye might consider a game.”

Sampson’s lips curved. “A wise fear.”

She hesitated for only a moment before lifting the glass and taking a sip. The wine was rich, full-bodied, and dangerously smooth.

She set the glass down and met his gaze. “And what are the rules?”

Sampson leaned forward, the candlelight casting shadows across his sharp features. “Simple. We take turns asking each other questions. The other must answer honestly. No evasions. No refusals.”

Catherine frowned. “And if we refuse?”

Sampson smirked. “Then we take something off.”

She nearly choked. “Ye cannae be serious.”

“Oh, I am.” He leaned back again, swirling his glass. “But if you’re too shy, you’re welcome to forfeit. I’ll understand.”

Catherine bristled at the challenge. “Fine,” she said, setting her glass down with more force than necessary. “Ye can start.”

Sampson chuckled, clearly enjoying her determination. “That fierce spirit of yours is quite entertaining to witness. I do not believe I will ever tire of it.”

His compliment made her squirm, and she couldn’t help the burst of pleasure she felt at his approval.

Her older sister had expressed some concerns over her betrothal when it had been announced so suddenly, pointing out the fact that she had received numerous proposals and courtship offers in the past but ultimately turned them down because she did not like the men. Either that or they rescinded their offers after seeing how brazen she could be in her words and actions.

It had made Catherine wonder if she would ever find someone who would accept her for who she truly was. And here her husband was, admitting he liked the very same personality Scottish men had disliked.

While she couldn’t trust Sampson as far as she could throw him, she couldn’t ignore the warmth she felt at his acknowledgment and approval.

“That is nae a question,” she pointed out, taking another small sip of her wine.

“You are right. My apologies, Duchess.” He nodded with a strict expression. “I did not expect you to be so eager, but since you are so eager to play with me, I see no reason to deny you what you want.”

“Go on then,” Catherine challenged.

Sampson smirked. “Fine. Tell me, have you ever been with a man?”

Color filled her cheeks, and she choked on air, coughing slightly from immense embarrassment.

“Oh dear.” Sampson mock frowned. “Did I catch you by surprise? Or did I perhaps remind you of salacious moments spent in the throes of pleasure?—”

“Nay! Nay—no. Absolutely not!” she gasped, horrified.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of. It is perfectly normal to?—”

“I answered yer question, Your Grace. I believe it is my turn to ask ye a question,” she said curtly.

Sampson leaned back in his seat and nodded, a teasing smile on his lips. “All right. Ask me whatever you wish.”

Catherine narrowed her eyes at him, her lips moving before she could even think. “Did ye truly need a wife?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Was…” She hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “I’ve wanted to know for a while. Did ye agree to take one of my father’s daughters as a wife because ye really needed one, or did ye merely go along with it to settle the debt?”

“Do I seem like the sort of person who would do anything without reason?” he countered.

“I cannae say. Ye’re rather difficult to understand sometimes,” she admitted softly.

Sampson was silent for a moment, then he said, “That is a fair observation. To answer your question, I really needed a wife. I meant what I said about it being good for business. And, as I also mentioned, no father worth his honor in London would let me near his daughter. So, your father’s offer did not just save him, but it was quite the help to me as well.”

Catherine nodded, feeling relieved.

“Might I ask what brought on that question?” Sampson queried, watching her with an expression she couldn’t decipher.

“Would ye like it to be yer second question?” she taunted, her lips curling into a smirk.

Sampson grinned. “You truly are full of surprises.”

She shrugged, thankful he did not push because she did not wish to complain that she felt as though he viewed her as a pet more often than not. Just an obedient, little plaything he would shift his attention to from time to time.

“Tell me about your family. What are they like?” Sampson asked.

That was certainly an unexpected question.

Catherine hesitated for a moment, but she had no reason to refuse. Nor did she want to, as she longed to confess just how much she missed her family to anyone who would listen.

“Well, I have two younger siblings and an older sister. Margaret—we call her Meg—is the eldest. She is always fussing and worrying about us young’uns. She seems difficult, but she is so incredibly kind and loving.

“And then there’s my younger brother, Graham. He’s thirteen and always getting himself into trouble. That lad has impressed and frightened the lot of us in the same breath, but he cares so deeply about our family, and he is growing up so fast. We all know he’s going to be quite the gentleman when he is older.” She smiled softly. “And then there’s wee Isobel. She’s just a bairn. Only two years old.”

Sampson arched an eyebrow. “That’s quite an age gap.”

Catherine nodded. “She wasnae born of my mother, but she’s ours all the same. My parents took her in and raised her as their own. Father says her green eyes make her just as much a Lennox as the rest of us.”

Something flickered across Sampson’s face, but it was gone before she could place it.

“A generous family,” he murmured.

Catherine nodded. “Aye. There was always warmth in our home. Laughter.” She looked around the grand but eerily silent study. “This house… it’s too quiet. It is a wee bit disconcerting sometimes.”

Sampson’s gaze lingered on her before he spoke. “Your turn.”

Catherine took a deep breath, then folded her hands in her lap. “What about your family? Can you tell me about them?”

Sampson’s smirk faded slightly. “I cannot.”

“What do ye mean ye cannot?” she queried, surprised by the sudden change in his demeanor.

He tilted his head, studying her for a moment. Then, he took a slow sip of his wine and said, “Pass.”

Catherine furrowed her brow. “Ye cannae—you cannot pass.”

“Of course, I can.” He gestured towards his coat, shrugging it off and tossing it onto a nearby chair. “And that’s how the game is played, Duchess.”

Catherine pursed her lips. “Coward.”

“Call it whatever you like, but you shouldn’t pout over my intelligence.” He winked at her, then he sat up. “My turn. Did you really have no reservations about marrying me? Your father gave up your hand to pay off his debt?—”

“He did nay such thing. Do not slander my father’s honor. Offering ye something other than the exact sum ye were owed was the only solution we could come up with, and the only thing we could think of was a lass for ye to wed. It was either Meg or me, and I volunteered because Meg wasnae ready to marry. I did not mind it as much, and I was glad and thankful to be able to help my family.”

“You are truly quite noble. You and your family,” Sampson commented casually.

“Ye say it as if ye expected differently,” she noted.

“I try not to have any expectations of others. It prevents a lot of regrets and severe mistakes. It is better this way.”

“It sounds like ye have many tales of regrets and mistakes.”

“Is that a question, dear wife?”

“Would ye answer it if it was?” she countered, clearly irritated.

Sampson chuckled, a sound she discovered she was getting used to because it no longer grated on her nerves as it did before.

“Ask me properly and find out.”

“What do ye regret?” Catherine persisted, furrowing her brow.

“Many things, dearest. Many things,” he sighed.

“Ye are incredibly infuriating.” She tsked, rolling her eyes.

“If I were any less of the person I am, you would not like me as much.”

Catherine was momentarily stunned by his courageous assumption. “Ye speak as if I like ye now.”

“You will.” Sampson grinned cheekily. “It is inevitable, Duchess.”

“Ye didnae answer my question,” she groaned, barely resisting the urge to throw her wine in his face when he simply took off his waistcoat and dropped it on his coat.

“Your turn. What are you afraid of?” he asked.

“Loss,” Catherine answered far too quickly for her liking. “The thought of losing anyone in my family terrifies me to death. They are all I have, all I’ve ever known. Losing any one of them would destroy me, I think.”

Sampson studied her carefully. “Sounds like you have thought about it a lot.”

“Nae particularly,” Catherine stated, raising her wine glass to her lips to drain it. “I practice expressing gratitude and thankfulness. And I am most grateful for them. As such, I am aware of what they mean to me, and trading them for anything else is nae an option.”

There was a time when Graham had fallen very ill. The family had done what they could to keep him company during what they had assumed would be his final days. And, at some point, her mother had said, with a devastated look, that perhaps they should say their goodbyes to him.

Everyone did, except Catherine.

She had selfishly held onto him, with a plea to whoever could hear her to take her instead, or to take them both if he had to go.

She had never told anyone about it, especially when Graham had made a full recovery and was strutting around as though nothing had ever been wrong.

“You are even more interesting than I am,” Sampson stated.

“I highly doubt that. There is nothing remotely fascinating about me. Ye are a duke with a rather suspicious reputation that apparently precedes ye. I can guarantee ye are more worthy of a conversation than I am. Now, will ye answer my question?”

“It depends on what you ask, doesn’t it, Duchess?”

Feeling tired, Catherine sat back. “It’s nae very fair of ye to set rules and nae follow them.”

“But it is my game, is it not? I should be awarded the right to bend the rules however I wish, no?” he countered cheekily. “All right. I’ll let you ask one more question. Perhaps if I am feeling magnanimous, I will give you the answers you seek.”

Catherine leveled an unimpressed stare at him and scoffed. “That is nae nearly as generous as ye think.”

“So you do not wish to take the offer?”

“I didnae—didn’t say that,” she hurriedly.

“Ask away, then.”

This was a rare opportunity she did not expect to have, and she couldn’t bear the idea of wasting it.

“Do you need some time? A pen and parchment, perhaps?” He chuckled as he refilled their wine glasses.

She laughed without humor, then she leaned forward. “Why is this house so quiet?”

Sampson raised an eyebrow at her inquisitively. “I beg your pardon?”

“This house. My family doesnae have a rank as prestigious as yers or an estate as grand as yers, but we still have a good number of servants. Ye barely have enough, in my opinion. However, I will admit that they are very efficient when it comes to their chores and duties. But they have had to take on quite a bit for such a large place. Why would ye want it to be so quiet and so empty?”

Sampson’s smile was slow and knowing. “You really are determined to dig into my secrets, aren’t you?”

She met his gaze steadily. “Ye refuse to answer every question I ask. It’s only fair.”

Sampson considered her for a long moment. Then, in one fluid motion, he reached for the buttons of his shirt and tugged it off, adding it to the other discarded items.

Catherine scoffed. “Ye cannae keep doing that.”

“I can,” he said smoothly. “And I will.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low purr. “Now, Duchess, it’s my turn again. Have you ever found yourself chasing something outside the lines of propriety? For instance, have you ever tried to pleasure yourself?”

“Nay—no. I dinnae want to play anymore. It is obvious ye were merely trying to make a fool of me, and I will no longer stand for it. I came because ye summoned me, and I made the mistake of buying into yer poor excuse of wanting company. I will do that no more.”

“It sounds as though you had already surmised what would happen if you came here. So why did you come?” Sampson questioned, looking as though her refusal hadn’t fazed him in the slightest.

“I was trying to be a good wife and duchess to ye! What sort of woman would I be if I decided to ignore my husband and Duke’s orders, barely two days after we were married?”

Sampson’s eyes took on a glint Catherine wasn’t familiar with, and unease coiled in her stomach.

The Duke tapped his chin, staring at her as his lips curled into a wolfish grin. “Well then, since you are so intent on being a good duchess, perhaps you could prove your dedication by undressing for me.”

Catherine went rigid. Heat flooded her cheeks, but she kept her expression neutral. He was goading her, waiting for her to sputter and protest. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

So, she rose to her feet.

Sampson’s smirk faltered.

Catherine lifted her hands to the ties of her gown, pulling the ribbons loose. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet in a whisper of silk. She did not tremble, did not look away. She simply stood naked before him, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Sampson’s eyes darkened, hungrily tracing the curves of her body, unguarded and slow. A flicker of surprise, then raw desire crossed his features, and she could barely keep herself from flinching when he stood and approached her.

At first, he stood in front of her silently. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled softly. Her knees trembled when his eyes slowly slid over her form again.

“You’re a stubborn, little thing,” he murmured, making her heart flutter.

The air between them was thick and heavy, charged with something that threatened to render Catherine’s insides an unrecognizable shade that might match the flush spreading over her skin.

Her breath caught as he leaned down, and she flinched, only to realize that he was reaching not for her, but for her discarded dress.

With deliberate care, he lifted it and held it out to her.

“Never challenge me like this again,” he said, his voice low and edged with something unreadable. “Especially when you don’t know the consequences. It is never a wise decision to wager your well-being on a hunch.”

Catherine swallowed. Slowly, she took the dress from him and pulled it back on.

Sampson didn’t move away. His fingers brushed her arm as he stepped past her, his breath warm against her ear.

“Go to bed, Duchess.”

Catherine turned away quickly, cursing herself for being so stubborn, for letting him goad her into doing such a ridiculous thing. She grabbed her wine glass, downed it in one gulp, and left without another word.

She only drew in a breath when she was in her room, sinking into a heap on the floor as she remembered the way his eyes had hungrily studied her body.

That Duke seemed worlds apart from the one who had been content simply spending the evening teasing her. The darkness in his eyes had nearly swallowed her whole, and she found herself expecting—almost hoping that he would touch her.

Take her, even.

Catherine gasped, horrified by the thought, and she shook her head, begging herself to come back to her senses.

She was determined to understand him, to discover the secrets hidden beneath his playful facade. But she knew, with a sinking feeling, that it would not be an easy task.