Page 52 of Claiming His Scottish Duchess
The sight of the old man again engaging so easily with her infuriated Richard.
He put his hand on her leg, but this time more forcefully.
He saw her stifling a gasp as she parted her legs slightly, letting him delicately trace the insides of her legs through her gown.
And for the rest of the soup course.
And with each soft caress, Richard carvedyou are mineinto her skin.
The ride home was fraught with heavy, unspoken tension as neither could decide how to broach the topic of their dinner games.
As soon as they were inside Wilthorne, Catriona rounded on Richard, her voice gaining confidence.
“What in heaven’s name was that at dinner?”
“You are a duchess now, Catriona,” Richard said as he pulled her aside, away from the staff, his eyes dark. “You will conduct yourself accordingly in front of others.”
A wry smile touched Catriona’s lips. “Accordingly?”
“Yes,accordingly.”
“As in, silent and ignored while ye brood? Or perhaps you meant nae daring to enjoy the company of another human bein’?”
“You were overly familiar with Lord Abernathy,” Richard ground out, the jealousy still raw in his voice.
“Overly familiar? We were having a conversation, Richard. Somethin’ you rarely seem inclined to do with me.” She leanedcloser, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Are you… jealous? Of an auld man like him?”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“Och, but I think ye are, husband,” Catriona persisted, enjoying his discomfort. “That hand on me thigh certainly suggested a certain territoriality.”
“Ah yes, but youlikedthat hand on your thigh, didn’t you, wife?”
“Dinnae flatter yerself!”
“I bet you wish I had inched my fingers higher. Don’t you?”
“Stop it, right now!”
He stiffened, his composure momentarily cracking as electricity hummed between them.
“Cat…” Richard began, his voice husky as he put his arm above her head, cornering her in the hallway.
His body inched dangerously close to hers as he took in her lavender and vanilla scent, threatening to overtake his control.
“Aye, dinnae ‘Cat’ me, ye scoundrel,” she clipped at him. “I ought to?—”
Suddenly, a small voice came from the hallway, and Catriona closed her mouth quickly.
“Catriona?” Lydia called as she stood in the hall, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
“Lydia! What is it, me dear?” she asked as she drew her in a tight embrace. “What a joy to hear yer sweet voice,” she cooed.
And then she took his niece’s hand and guided her back up the stairs, leaving him to burn in desire alone.
In the days that followed, Lydia came out of her shell. Her small sentences were still halting and short, but the silence that had shrouded her for so long was slowly breaking, like the melting of icy snow.
Catriona took joy in their outings and interactions, as they became peppered with conversation. It was a delight to hear some of the thoughts within the girl’s head.
