Page 50 of Claiming His Scottish Duchess
Catriona noted that many of the younger lads eyed Richard with a degree of fear. His usual brooding demeanor cast a shadow that made them shrink back slightly, their greetings polite, but hushed and hesitant.
Catriona was met with a different kind of curiosity. The women, their hands calloused but their eyes bright, offered shy smiles and murmured greetings.
“Your Grace,” one young lady said with a curtsy, her gaze taking in her unfamiliar gown with a mixture of awe and speculation. “Welcome to our village.”
There was a genuine warmth in their welcome, a sense of anticipation for their new duchess.
As they strolled through the bustling marketplace, the air was filled with the sounds of bartering and chatter.
Lydia, excited but weary of her surroundings, clutched Catriona’s hand tightly and weaved her small fingers into hers. Her wide eyes darted nervously from the stalls overflowing with produce to the vendors hawking oysters and cockles. The sheer volume of sights and sounds seemed to overwhelm her, and she pressed closer to Catriona’s side, her usual plea for reassurance.
They paused outside a small, quaint bookshop. The window displayed a colorful array of volumes. Lydia’s attention was caught by a brightly illustrated book with exotic animals on the cover. She reached out a tentative finger to touch its spine.
“Do ye like this one, me dear?” Catriona asked as she knelt beside her. “Aye, this is a good one!”
Lydia remained silent for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the book as she flipped through the pages. Then, her small head bobbed almost imperceptibly.
And then, so quietly that Catriona almost missed it, a tiny, timid whisper escaped her lips.
“Yes.”
“Then it’s yours,” Richard said softly, with a tenderness that was unlike his usual rough exterior.
Catriona saw the flicker in his eyes—relief, sharp and sudden, quickly swallowed by a trace of surprise. His shoulders, once rigid, seemed to ease, and the tension that had pulled his jaw taut loosened just enough to make him look…human.
“We shall read it together later,” Catriona said with a smile, as she caught Richard’s gaze.
She could have sworn she saw his lips curl into a tiny smile as well.
Lydia clutched the book to her chest, her eyes lifting to Catriona in gratitude and then Richard’s.
If his first smile had been a fluke, the one he gave Lydia was unmistakable.
As they turned to leave the village and despite the success of their trip, the duke remained unusually quiet. Catriona could feel his eyes on her as she engaged in an easy, natural interaction with Lydia, and even the villagers.
I like his eyes on me.
The warmth she felt for him in that moment was spreading like wildfire, despite her efforts to stifle it. The feeling was equalparts gratitude, in deep appreciation for the light Lydia brought into her own shadowed world, and pure desire for him.
Or perhaps, it was something more profound, something she wasn’t yet ready to name.
Aye, I like his eyes on me. Almost as much as I like that cheeky smile.
Chapter Seventeen
“Chan eil dad a’s fhiach a bhith aige nach fiach a bhith a’ feitheamh ris.” Nothing worth having is not worth waiting for.
“Lord Mortridge,” Richard said, his tone formal as he presented Catriona, who was a vision of loveliness in a simple but well-cut violet gown. “May I introduce my wife, the Duchess of Wilthorne.”
The evening of the dinner party arrived, cloaked in an atmosphere of unease for Catriona. This was their first official outing as man and wife.
Lord Mortridge’s estate was grand, bordering on ostentatious, and the air within felt heavy, charged with something she couldn’t quite place. It was so unlike the organic, refined beauty of Wilthorne.
Lord Mortridge turned, his dark eyes sweeping over Catriona with an intensity that made her skin prickle. She did not care for his roving gaze. He offered a shallow bow, a thin smile stretching across his lips.
“Your Grace. A pleasure. The duke has spoken of your arrival,” he said.
Catriona offered a polite smile in return, as she willed the shiver of unease to dissipate.
