Page 58 of Claiming His Scottish Duchess
Catriona’s eyes trailed over his arm, over the faint scars that marred his skin.
Slowly, she reached out to trace the lines with her fingers, her touch gentle.
“Is that how ye got those scars?” she asked softly, her voice laced with concern.
Richard’s gaze flickered to her hand, but he didn’t pull away. “Yes. The ice was sharp. It left its mark.”
“That was so brave of ye.”
Richard shrugged. “Our father didn’t think so. He didn’t see this as an act of sacrifice. All he ever saw was obligation,” he said, remembering his father’s eyes—all too similar to the chips of ice he’d carved his way through.
“He told me that as the heir, my most important duty was to protect the family,” he laughed bitterly, “nothing more. He didn’t even check on John.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of old wounds. He’d never spoken them aloud before, but now, strangely, it felt almost… freeing. There was something about the way Catriona looked at him—no judgment, just understanding—that made him feel less like the stoic figure he tried so hard to be.
It was cathartic, even if he’d never admit it out loud.
For a moment, they were silent, both picking up stones, the simple action grounding them in the present.
Finally, Catriona broke the silence, her voice soft but steady. “What was yer brother like?”
Richard paused for a second, the question pulling him back from the dark memories. His brother had always been a source of pride and pain, in equal measure. But now, for some reason, he felt more comfortable answering her than he ever had before.
“John…” Richard began, his voice quiet, almost contemplative. “He was always different, you know? Not like Father or me. He was like a sunbeam to my shadow. He married for love; his wife was called Lady Anna. It seemed almost scandalous at the time, choosing happiness over what was… expected. I disapproved, kept my distance as much as I could without it being too obvious. Foolish, really. I thought they’d be fine. John was always so… resilient.”
A shadow crossed his face, and he stopped for a moment, his thoughts drifting.
“Before…” Richard paused, his voice thickening slightly. “Before John and Anna died, everyone used to run after Lydia. Catch her before she ate a dirty plant or chased a duck. Always so full of life. To an infuriating point. Which is why we were never close before. I believe she once called me ‘the grumpy old man who lives in the big house.’”
Catriona couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Aye, well, sounds like she wasnae wrong.”
Richard’s lips twitched into a smile, though it was tinged with a touch of sadness. “She had a way of speaking the truth, that one. Straight to the point, no matter who it might offend. But since…”
He sighed, the words too heavy to utter.
“She will get there again,” she said, then frowned. “I hate to think of all she saw that day.”
He pulled her ever tighter and inhaled her scent, hints of lavender and vanilla filling his nostrils—if only he had a bottle to save it. To save this moment.
“There was an ambush. John and Anna… they perished. Lydia was so quiet and hid so far beneath the carriage seat that they never knew she was there.”
He sighed, his body rigid.
“And I—I failed my brother. Again,” he confessed.
He let the silence hang between them for a moment, his hand sliding to her waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of her gown.
“The authorities found nothing. But I… I can’t let it go. I can’t accept that they’re gone. If I could just find who did this… bring them to justice… Maybe then this damn weight could finally be lifted. Maybe I could be the man I should be. The husband you deserve.”
Richard’s gaze turned toward Catriona, intense and vulnerable in a way he seldom allowed anyone to see.
Then, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his chest, offering what comfort she could without words.
And it worked. Better than any consoling word he’d been offered this past year.
A beat passed. They both took a breath, and then, with a final, reluctant sigh, Richard began to pull away.
“We should head back before anyone wonders where we’ve gone.”
