Page 72 of Claiming His Scottish Duchess
“Nonsense, Catriona,” Eliza protested. “I am perfectly comfortable and do not need a fuss made about me! You are too kind, but truly, I am fine.”
“Nevertheless,” Catriona insisted, a small, genuine smile gracing her lips for the first time in days. It always brought her joy to share happiness to others. “It would please me to do somethin’ nice for ye, after all the tenderness ye have brought to this place. For me?”
“I mean it, my friend. I am fine! You could use the soak more than I could. Why don’t you hop in, and I’ll care for Lydia,” she offered.
“The lavender oil is from Paris, ye ken? I’m told the scene will whisk ye straight away to France.”
Reluctantly, Eliza conceded, allowing the maids to lead her away. Catriona knew she could not say no to the allure of French bath oils.
With Eliza occupied, Catriona decided a change of scenery might lift Lydia’s spirits, and perhaps her own.
“Come, little fairy,” she said, taking Lydia’s hand when she found her in the study. “Let’s take a walk in the gardens. The last of the roses are still in bloom and we should make sure your little patch is still thrivin’ too. We havenae checked it in some time now, lassie!”
Hand in hand, they strolled through the manicured lawn that started at the back of the hall to the gardens.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, and the fragrant flowers made a beautiful sight in that light. Lydia seemed to find joy in nature, her body a little less tense amidst the familiar beauty of her little patch.
After checking on their work, they wandered deeper. Catriona recalled a secluded rose arbor from her earlier explorations ofthe estate that she wanted to look at. It was a place where the air was thick with floral notes and the world felt momentarily peaceful. Catriona could do with some peace.
“Pretty flower,” Lydia said as she ran her fingers carefully along the petals.
“Yes, lassie. But nae as pretty as ye. Ye are a rival to any flower,” Catriona said, as she plucked a bloom and tucked it behind her ear.
Lydia let out a small laugh in appreciation, and Catriona playfully chased her among the flowers. They paused when they reached some especially beautiful blooms. Catriona leaned down to point out a particularly vibrant crimson shade to Lydia when a sudden, chilling presence shattered the moment.
There was a hurried rustling of grass and leaves. A cutting gait that echoed through the woods in front of them. Catriona feared it was an animal. She scooped Lydia close, searching for any signs of movement nearby.
“Quiet, lassie. We are nae alone,” she said when Lord Mortridge stepped out from behind the dense foliage.
He seemed to materialize from shadows, his eyes glinting with a cold, unsettling light. As she took a step closer to meet him, a flicker of movement at his waist caught her attention.
He subtly shifted his coat, just for a moment, revealing the unmistakable glint of steel. A pistol was tucked discreetly within his waistband. Catriona’s breath hitched as the seriousness of the encounter hit her like a strike of lightning.
This is nae chance encounter,she thought.
“Well, well. We meet again. Your Grace, Lady Lydia,” Lord Mortridge said too casually, his voice calm and composed as ever—an eerie contrast to the deadly weapon Catriona knew he concealed, and whatever malicious intent stewed inside his soul.
“Ah, yes, little Lydia. It truly is always best to see you! What a pleasant surprise to find you both in such a… secluded spot.” His eyes flicked between them, a threat hanging in the air as his words.
There was no mistaking what was happening.
“Now, I’m afraid I must insist you both accompany me,” he said with a flourish of his hand. “Quietly now. No noise, no fuss.”
“It will be all right, lassie,” she murmured, her voice trembling despite her efforts to remain calm for Lydia’s sake. “Just stay close to me.”
Lydia whimpered in response, her small hand clenching Catriona’s with desperate strength.
Faither, if ye can intercede to the gods for me, the fairies, even the Phouka… please let nae harm befall us… and if harm must come, please let it be for me and nae the girl,she pleaded.
Catriona’s eyes were fixed on Lord Mortridge’s every movement as he led the way, his hand never straying far from his pistol.
They left the roses behind, venturing onto a narrow, overgrown path that snaked its way towards the dense woodland bordering the estate. Each step brought them further and further away from Wilthorne, further and further from any sense of safety.
“What a beautiful day for an afternoon stroll, eh?” Lord Mortridge asked playfully, as if this were just another leisure activity for them. “I just love the way the air feels as we approach the autumn season. It invigorates the senses, doesn’t it? Nothing like fresh air!”
Catriona didn’t reply, all her senses on high alert, ready for whatever trap he was luring them to.
“Speaking of autumn, I hear the villagers are planning a harvest festival. It is going to be quite the spectacle, surely it will rival the last one!” He went on as Catriona remained silent, disturbed by the casual way he tried to relate to them.
