Page 7 of His Scottish Duchess (The Dukes of Sin #5)

CHAPTER SEVEN

“ A s such, I believe if we were to source our greens from Mr. Edwin, we would be able to save a lot of money and have enough to spare for grains and other edible supplies.”

Catherine watched with bated breath as Mrs. Starling carefully went over her notes, mulling over the explanation she had just provided. It felt as though an eternity had passed before the housekeeper looked up at her and nodded curtly.

“This is… rather impressive, Your Grace. Very concise and detailed enough to relay to the maids, so that when they are out on errands, they will know just what to do. Well done, Your Grace,” the older woman said, still nodding in approval.

Catherine gasped and made to clap her hands excitedly, but was stopped by the housekeeper’s hard gaze. Instead, she cleared her throat and smiled politely.

“Thank ye, Mrs. Starling. I am glad ye approve,” she replied, barely managing to hold back her enthusiasm.

The days that followed her arrival at Rosehall found her settling into a rhythm of duty and quiet observation. She had immersed herself in the intricacies of managing the estate, determined to prove herself worthy of her new role. Each morning, she met with Mrs. Starling, the formidable housekeeper, and together they reviewed the household accounts, planned menus, and oversaw the staff.

Catherine asked countless questions, eager to learn every detail, her genuine interest in her tasks surprising even Mrs. Starling. She found herself fascinated by the sheer scale of the estate’s operations, the intricate web of responsibilities that kept it running smoothly.

It also provided her with a deeper sense of understanding of just how hard her mother worked to keep their household afloat. Catherine hoped to do that here too, to create a nurturing environment for her new household and her husband. With any luck—and a lot of hard work—they would be able to grow as well as she had in Scotland, if not better.

By the end of each day, Catherine felt a sense of accomplishment, a quiet satisfaction in her newfound competence. Whatever mistakes she had made were reviewed and learned from, and she was grateful for the opportunity to do so.

Mrs. Starling, though still reserved, gave her a brief, almost imperceptible nod of approval before retiring for the evening. It was a small gesture, but Catherine considered it a sign of progress.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Your Grace,” Mrs. Starling had said with a curtsy before she left.

Once Mrs. Starling was gone, the formality of the day dissolved, and Catherine’s restless spirit emerged. She still found the quietude of the manor stifling, the absence of her husband a constant reminder of her isolation.

It had begun to feel as though she was the only one who remembered that they were married. They rarely shared meals, crossing paths only briefly in the vast expanse of the estate.

Even those stolen moments barely awarded her with the attention she had begun to crave. Ever since that night, when she had bared herself to him, she had been having odd… feelings. Strange notions continuously swirled around in her mind, filling her with a thirst she could never seem to quench.

Catherine thought of Sampson far too much, far too often. She had begun to wish he would have touched her then, just as he had on her first day in the estate. She even wondered if he might have done just that, had she been another woman—one of his usual companions.

She did not understand where these ideas were coming from, as she had never experienced anything like it. Eventually, she dismissed it as a consequence of her longing for a sense of normalcy.

She needed a moment of shared laughter, a connection to break the monotony. And now that she had the rest of the day to herself, she went to the one person she knew wouldn’t deny her what she wanted.

“Anna,” Catherine said, approaching the maid as she returned from an errand, her voice laced with a hint of mischief. “I am a bit browned off. Let us play a game.”

The maid paused, her brow creasing with confusion. “Browned off?? What does that mean?”

Catherine laughed, for once not feeling bad about her slip-up. In fact, she had begun to worry about it less and less ever since Sampson had told her that he liked it.

“It means I’m bored, dear. I have done nothing but oversee my duties and responsibilities. I need a reprieve.”

Anna, ever loyal, smiled at her gently. “A game, Your Grace? Which one did you have in mind?”

“Hm.” Catherine paused thoughtfully, her eyes sparkling. “Something fun, something… spontaneous. I cannot bear another lecture from Mrs. Starling about how a proper lady should conduct herself. I need a reason to indulge in some gallus behavior.”

She missed her home, her family, and the easy laughter that filled their days. Apparently to the point where she wished to recreate the chaos that usually occurred there.

Anna, sensing her longing, couldn’t refuse. “Well, I did not play a lot as a child because I had no siblings and not a lot of friends. But if you do not mind teaching me, I’d love to play whatever you suggest. Do you have a game you’d like to play now, Your Grace?”

“Hide-and-seek!” Catherine declared, her voice filled with childlike enthusiasm. “My siblings and I loved to play that game as children. And it is incredibly easy to learn. I can teach ye!”

Anna chuckled, her eyes filled with warmth. “Very well, Your Grace. But you must be careful not to hide in any of the Duke’s private chambers.”

“I promise,” Catherine said, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Now, ye will close your eyes and count, and I will find the perfect hiding spot. When ye have counted up to… twenty, ye will have to come and find me. That is how the game is played.”

The maid nodded with a thoughtful expression. “All right, that does sound easy. I will stay and count to twenty while you hide, Your Grace. Good luck!”

“And to ye as well! Do not steal a peek!” Catherine said as she stepped back.

The moment Anna closed her eyes, Catherine darted away, her footsteps echoing through the empty halls. She glanced down different hallways and corridors, contemplating the potential hiding spots for a moment before she kept moving.

She needed to pick a spot that Anna would not expect her to hide in. Somewhere she did not usually go. Without realizing it, she explored the less frequented areas of the manor, seeking a hiding place that would challenge Anna’s keen eyes.

She stumbled upon a room she had never seen before—a small, dimly lit chamber that resembled a bathing room. It was secluded, tucked away at the end of a long corridor, and she decided it was the perfect spot.

She slipped inside, closing the door behind her, and held her breath, listening for Anna’s approaching footsteps. The room was warm and humid, filled with the scent of soap and herbs. Catherine’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she noticed a large, ornate tub in the center of the room.

Oh, it really is a bathing chamber.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and the excitement in her veins caused her to smile as she shuffled backward into a corner. But then she noticed that the footsteps were heavier and more deliberate compared to Anna’s dainty ones.

Catherine froze, her heart pounding in her chest as she prayed that she would not be found. The door opened, and she pressed a hand to her lips to keep quiet.

It was Sampson on the other side, and he was completely naked. Mr. Oswald had informed her that the Duke had a business meeting in town and would be gone for most of the day, so it had not been surprising that they had not crossed paths all day.

Maybe it was a tad disappointing, but the butler had also told her that he would likely return in the evening. And if his naked state was anything to go by, she guessed that he had only just returned and decided to take a bath to freshen up.

Sampson’s body was slightly angled away from the door, and much like their first meeting, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander down his perfect figure. He looked… firm. Each tiny movement made her notice how his muscles rippled deliciously. If he were a sculpture, then the artist certainly put a lot of dedication and thought into creating him.

His arms looked strong, and she wondered how it would feel to be embraced by him, to revel in his warmth as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

At last, he fully turned to step into the bathroom, Catherine’s eyes darted down, landing on his member, and she gasped, her cheeks flushing crimson. She then futilely tried to make herself as small as possible, hoping he wouldn’t notice her.

But Sampson, ever alert, seemed completely unfazed by her presence. He turned, his gaze sweeping over the room, and his eyes landed on her hiding spot. A slow smile spread across his lips.

“Come out, Catherine,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “I know you’re there.”

Catherine’s cheeks burned even brighter. “How did ye know?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I could smell you from the start,” Sampson replied, his eyes twinkling as he entered the bathroom fully, approaching her at a slow pace. “You smell like pomegranates. Very distinct.”

Catherine’s breath hitched. She had never been so close to her husband, so exposed to his raw masculinity. The sight of his naked body, his broad shoulders, his muscular chest, his… manhood, sent a shiver down her spine.

“Now that I’ve found you,” Sampson said, his voice laced with playful authority, “you’ve lost the game. And the loser must help the winner take a bath.”

“What?” Catherine exclaimed, her brogue accentuated by her indignation, as seemed to be the case whenever she was around her husband. “Ye’re a grown man. Ye can bathe yerself.”

“A good wife is obedient,” Sampson countered, his lips curving into a smirk.

Catherine bit her tongue, resisting the urge to retort. She knew she couldn’t win this argument.

With a sigh of resignation, she stepped out of her hiding place and approached the tub, mumbling under her breath, “Darn sleekit.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Your Grace!” She smiled innocently.

Sampson grinned victoriously as he slipped into the tub, the movement stirring the herbs and releasing a richer aroma into the air. Catherine shuffled even closer, wondering if she could really put her hands on him.

I dinnae think I will be able to survive touching him directly.

She stared down at his rippling muscles and glistening skin.

“I will wash yer hair. Only yer hair,” she announced suddenly, knowing that was the safest thing to do.

“Suit yourself.” Sampson shrugged, beckoning her to his side.

After a few moments spent praying for strength, she finally put her hands on his hair, nearly gasping in surprise at how soft the strands felt. It did not take long for her to become absorbed in her task, relishing how docile he had become beneath her fingers as she massaged his scalp and washed his hair.

“How are you, Duchess?” he asked after a few minutes of silence. “I heard that you’ve been taking lessons to learn more about your duties. Are those going well too?”

His words surprised her a little. Catherine had expected more teasing, and at worst silence until they parted ways, pretending they had not seen each other naked. It seemed that whichever way it went, she was in trouble.

“Fine. I am fine. And aye, the lessons are going well. They have been most helpful in highlighting my weaknesses and giving me a chance to improve on them. I am also surprised to see that I have a flare for organizing social events. It does require a lot of work and time, and I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. It really has been an enlightening experience,” Catherine said, lathering her hands with soap.

“I am glad to hear that. And the estate? Is it to your liking? Or do you wish to change anything?” Sampson asked, his words coming out a little slurred.

Catherine giggled, glad that he was reacting that way to her ministrations, carefully combing her fingers through his dark locks as she thought of how to answer the question.

“The estate is magnificent. True, there are some things I wish to change—for our collective benefit. But I still do not like how quiet it is. I know it might seem as though I do not like the peace —I truly do—but my family is quite… eccentric.” A smile tugged at her lips. “We are always laughing or talking, and we cherish each other’s company more than anything. I was never alone. Not unless I wanted to be or needed to be. And here, unless I am carrying out my duties, I am alone. I have my meals alone and simply wait, craving the barest interaction with someone. It makes me miss my family so much. It makes me crave my home.”