Page 67 of His Scottish Duchess

“Oh my God—we’re here! Sampson, we’re here!”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the familiar silhouette of Spranklin Manor emerged on the horizon. The sturdy grey stone walls, weathered by years of Scottish winds and rains, the welcoming glow of warm light spilling from the windows, the sprawling grounds that held the echoes of countless cherished memories—it was a homecoming in every sense of the word, a tangible connection to her past.

Catherine’s heart swelled with a potent mixture of joy, relief, and a nervous flutter of anticipation as the carriage finally rolled to a gentle stop before the familiar stone steps of her childhood home.

The front door burst open, and her family spilled out onto the steps, their faces illuminated by the warm light of the setting sun, each expression radiating pure, unadulterated happiness at her arrival.

Her father, his broad shoulders still strong despite his advanced age, enveloped her in a bear hug that squeezed the breath from her lungs in a wonderfully familiar and comforting way.

“Och, my precious flower! I am so glad to see ye are well! How was yer journey? Did ye encounter any issues?”

Her mother, her eyes brimming with unshed tears of joy, held her close once her father had released her, murmuring heartfelt words of welcome in her soft, melodic Scottish brogue, her embrace carrying the scent of lavender and freshly baked bread.

Margaret and Graham greeted her next, their faces beaming with genuine affection, and offered hearty greetings and playful teasing.

“Ye’re lookin’ even more like a duchess than before! Is the air over there different?” Margaret teased, cupping Catherine’s face in her hands. “Dinnae start cryin’, lass. Ye’ve only just arrived.”

Even young Isobel, now noticeably a little taller and with a scattering of freckles across her nose that Catherine didn’t remember seeing before, threw herself into her arms with a squeal of delight, her small hands clutching Catherine’s gown tightly.

Amidst the joyous chaos of the reunion, Sampson stood slightly apart, a quiet observer of the familial embrace. A genuine smile softened his features as he watched Catherine reconnect with her loved ones.

“Ah, Yer Grace! Forgive us, we didnae mean to ignore ye. We’re all just so happy to see Catherine again,” Fergus offered with a sheepish smile.

“Oh, no.” Sampson shook his head, looking a little out of his depth as all eyes turned to him. “I understood that much, and I was happy to let you focus your attention on her. It is only fair, seeing as I have had all of her attention while she was away.”

Catherine blushed, pouting when Graham and Margaret started to needle her.

“Still.” Mary beamed at him. “Ye are family, too, and we are very happy to have ye here.”

He offered polite and respectful greetings to each member of her family in turn, his demeanor conveying a sincere pleasure at finally meeting them in their home.

Catherine eagerly took his hand and led him through the manor while the rest of the family got ready for lunch, showing him all the nooks and crannies that had seen her grow from a little bundle in her mother’s arms to a young woman, leaving her father’s house to get married.

“Margeret and I used to spend so much time in the orangery. We tried on multiple occasions to grow our favorite fruits, but we were only successful in growing oranges,” she said with a smile as she pointed at the structure that stood a few meters from the house.

She then turned and pointed her finger at an oak tree farther from both the house and the orangery, its gnarled bark betraying its age.

“Graham once got stuck in that tree. He has always fancied himself an explorer, crawling into small, tight spaces and always seeking to catch views from high points. And one time, he thought the greatest achievement would be to climb up that tree.

“We still don’t know how he got up there—and he had no clue how to climb back down. Father had to enlist the help of farmhands to rescue him. It was an occasion none of us forgot, mostly because Margaret teased him about it for weeks.” She giggled.

It was all so exciting for her, having her husband in her home, sharing her life with him intimately. Their connection seemed to be growing stronger as their lives became intertwined, and Catherine hoped that they would only grow impossibly closer with every breath they shared.

Sampson suddenly leaned down and captured her lips in a passionate kiss, his hands pulling her flush against him.

“W-What was that for?” she asked, breathless.

“You look so lovely,” he murmured, dipping low to plant a small kiss on her nose. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Catherine blushed and pulled him by the hand in the direction they had come, muttering about how they needed to return to her family before they got sidetracked.

However, the warmth of the reunion was fleeting. After the comforting, laughter-filled meal shared around the familiar oak dining table, Sampson announced that he had to depart for a pressing business meeting in the nearby town of Auchterarder. The matter, he explained regretfully, required his immediate attention and would likely keep him away for a day or two.

Catherine understood the demands of his responsibilities, though a small, selfish part of her wished he could linger longer and fully immerse himself in the genuine warmth and unreserved affection of her family.

Before he bid them farewell, he turned to her, his usual guarded expression softening into something akin to tenderness. He gently cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks lightly, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. Then, he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, a gesture that felt both deeply intimate and reassuringly protective.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Will you wait for me?”

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