Page 7 of His Scottish Duchess

But her words carried no heat because, as annoyed as she was, his touch left her breathless.

“Hmm. Is that so?” he hummed, his gaze heavy on her as his fingertips trailed down from her neck, over her collarbones, to the swell of her breasts.

But before he could touch her breasts, he lowered his hand to his side and turned around, leaving her dizzy and conflicted.

CHAPTER THREE

“You look beautiful, Miss Lennox,” Anna whispered, her fingers deftly securing the last pearl clasp on Catherine’s gown.

The girl’s eyes were wide with admiration as she fussed with the delicate lace of Catherine’s wedding dress, smoothing out wrinkles that weren’t there. Her enthusiasm was urging Catherine’s spirit to remain afloat as she stared at her reflection, trying to match Anna’s excitement.

The best the bride-to-be could manage was a weak smile, her gaze fixed on the looking glass. “Thank you, Anna. I… I feel quite unlike myself.”

The dress was beautiful, an ivory masterpiece of silk and lace—a choice she would never have been able to make by herself. Her mother and older sister Margeret had gone with her to the modiste, and after hours of indecisively shuffling through racks and racks of fabrics, they had eventually picked out a dress for her.

Catherine had fallen in love with it almost immediately, enamored with the soft fabric, the delicate lace, and the intricate embroidery patterns on the sleeves and bodice.

“It will serve as a reminder of our love when we’re nae with ye. And it will remind ye of how proud we are of ye, and how grateful,” her mother had told her as she had stared at her in the modiste’s mirror and wept.

At the time, those words had been a comfort. Now, standing in a stranger’s home, about to marry a man she barely knew, they only heightened the ache inside her.

“My mother and my sister chose it for me,” she added after a few moments. “They had hoped that helping me pick one would ease the weight of their absence.”

The exquisite dress, chosen with such love, did little to lighten the burden of her missing them now that the wedding day had finally arrived. Each stitch, and even the weight of the fabric, did serve as a reminder of their love, but it also aided their absence in leaving a gaping hole in her heart.

She had hoped that wearing the dress would bring her closer to them and grant her the final burst of courage she needed to proceed with the wedding ceremony. But the longer she stayed in it, the less it felt like a comforting embrace and the more it felt like a physical manifestation of the burden she was about to bear.

“They made an excellent choice. You look remarkable, Miss Lennox. Your mother and sister would be so proud,” Anna continued, her voice soft and reassuring. “The gown suits you perfectly.”

Catherine’s gaze drifted to the window, where the morning light filtered through the sheer curtains. “I miss them,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I miss them all.”

Anna placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I understand, Miss Lennox. It’s natural to miss your family, especially on such an important day. But you are strong, and you are brave. You are embarking on a new chapter, and you will find happiness here. They would want you to be happy, Miss Lennox. And you will be. The Duke…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “He is a fortunate man.”

Catherine inhaled deeply as she turned to Anna, her green eyes filled with a mixture of apprehension and determination. “I hope so, Anna. I truly do. Thank you, for being here.”

The hours that followed were a blur of hushed activity. The servants, their movements swift and silent, prepared her for the ceremony. Her auburn hair, usually a cascade of unruly curls, was now meticulously arranged into an elegant updo, secured with delicate pearl pins. The dusting of freckles across her nose seemed more pronounced, a stark contrast to the pale, almost ethereal complexion reflected in the glass.

At the very least, she looked ready to get married.

“It was my pleasure, Miss Lennox.” Anna curtsied gracefully.

Just then, a knock sounded at the bedroom door. Anna rushed over to it, and when the door was opened, another maid walked in, curtsying.

“They’re ready for you, Miss Lennox.”

Catherine inhaled sharply, her gaze snapping back to her reflection.

Anxieties and loneliness aside, she needed to do this. She had come all this way for this very task, and she had every intention of fulfilling it.

For her family.

She turned to the maid, her head held up high as she said, “Lead the way.”

As she was led through the gardens and towards the orangery, Catherine felt a strange sense of detachment, as if she were watching herself from a distance. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, and she could somehow still hear the hushed whispers of the servants echoing through the corridors when she had walked past them earlier.

The orangery, a glass-walled structure at the edge of the estate, was bathed in soft, golden light. The air was heavy with the scent of orange blossoms, a cloying sweetness that soothed her frayed nerves a little.

She had expected a grand affair, a spectacle befitting a duke. She had steeled her nerves in preparation for being stared at and judged by strangers. However, she found herself standing before a makeshift altar instead. The only other soul present besides the vicar and Sampson was a man whose presence exuded a palpable menace.

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