The Duke’s Sinful Bride (Vows of Sin #5)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

“ W hat has happened here?” Killian growled.

Killian had been watching from the window in his study, his steely gaze never leaving Yvette and Maisie.

His frustration had built steadily as he observed, unable to make out the exact cause of the commotion at first. But when the sight of Maisie’s frightened face and her frantic horse became clear, his temper flared.

Yvette parted her lips to speak, but before she could muster the words, Killian turned his attention to the riding instructor, berating him with a voice filled with thunderous authority.

“Do ye not know how to do the work ye’re paid to do?” he yelled at the younger man, who lowered his head, unable to say anything back.

“I asked ye a question.”

The instructor stammered his apologies, but Killian was unmoved. The man had let his charge, a young girl, ride unprepared, and now the consequences were painfully obvious.

Only then did Killian turn his sharp gaze on Yvette, his anger morphing into something more volatile.

“Do ye not have something better to do with your time? Why get involved with something ye do not understand?”

Before she could defend herself, Maisie stepped in, her small arms suddenly wrapping around Yvette’s neck in a protective gesture.

“She helped me, Papa. She really did. It wasn’t her fault the horse got spooked. I had a wonderful time. Thank you, Yvette,” the little girl said.

Killian’s brow furrowed deeper, but his focus didn’t waver.

“Maisie, go to your chambers now,” he commanded, his voice booming like a storm.

Maisie’s eyes brimmed with tears at her father’s tone, but she hesitated for a moment, looking between her father and Yvette, before nodding quickly and rushing off, her governess behind her.

When Killian turned to the instructor, the tension in the air thickened.

“If ye ever let this happen again,” he warned, his voice low but deadly, “I’ll have yer position terminated.”

The instructor’s face paled, but he nodded quickly, not daring to argue. Killian, clearly unsatisfied, marched off toward the house, going up to his study, his steps long and purposeful.

He’d just returned to his study, when the door was violently pushed open and in came Yvette, anger written on every inch of her face.

“We need to talk.”

Inside, Killian stood behind his desk, hands braced against the wood, his broad shoulders taut with barely restrained frustration. His back was to her, but Yvette didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let him avoid this.

Her strides were purposeful, the sharp click of her heels cutting through the silence like a warning shot.

“You need to stop treating her like that,” Yvette said, her voice clear and unwavering. “She’s just a child. She’s scared, and?—”

Killian turned, his expression dark, his brogue thickening as his temper flared. “And ye think ye’ve the right to lecture me on how I raise my daughter? What would ye know about it, lass? Ye’ve barely been here long enough to ken her name.”

Yvette didn’t flinch, her chin lifting in defiance. “I know enough to see the way she looks at you—as though she’s waiting for the next time you will lash out. You may think your sternness is protection, but it is fear, Your Grace. That is what you are teaching her.”

His eyes narrowed, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Dinnae presume to tell me about my daughter,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Ye’ve no idea what it’s like to raise a child in this world, to shield her from what ye ken could destroy her.”

“No,” Yvette countered, taking a step closer, her voice sharp as a blade, “but I know what it’s like to feel unheard, dismissed, and pushed away by someone who’s supposed to care. And that’s exactly what you’re doing to her.”

Killian’s hand slammed down on the desk, the sound reverberating through the room. “Enough! I will not stand here and let ye insult me in my own home.”

“Insult you?” Yvette’s laugh was biting, her eyes flashing. “You’re too proud to see it, aren’t you? Too proud to admit that maybe—just maybe—you’re wrong.”

His mouth twisted into a humorless smirk, his brogue slipping further as his temper frayed.

“Proud, am I? Aye, and what about ye? Marching in here as if ye’ve got all the answers, as if yer high-and-mighty lectures will fix everything.”

“I wouldn’t have to lecture ,” she shot back, her tone mocking, “if you weren’t so thick-headed. But no, you’d rather stomp around and bark orders like some Highland chieftain.”

His brow arched, the faintest trace of amusement flickering beneath the storm in his eyes. “Ye’ve a sharp tongue for someone who kens so little. Ye think raising a child is all soft words and coddling? Ye would crumble in my boots, lass.”

“I would manage just fine,” Yvette retorted, stepping even closer, the space between them now charged with challenge. “Because I would actually care enough to listen. Something you seem utterly incapable of doing.”

Killian’s lips curled into a slow, infuriating smirk, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Careful, Duchess. Ye are treading on very dangerous ground.”

Yvette’s pulse quickened, but she refused to back down. She tilted her chin, her gaze locking with his. “Oh, I am not afraid of you, my lord. If anything, I pity you.”

“Pity me?” he echoed, his voice a growl, his brogue thick with disdain. “And why is that?”

“Because you are so desperate to control everything,” she said, her voice soft but cutting. “You cannot see that the one thing slipping through your fingers is the thing you love most.”

The words hit their mark, and for a fleeting moment, Yvette saw something crack in his proud, impenetrable facade. But just as quickly, his expression hardened again.

“Ye’ve got a very high opinion of yerself, haven’t ye?” he said, taking a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “Ye think ye have figured me out? Ye haven’t even scratched the surface.”

“And maybe you haven’t figured me out, either,” she countered, her voice steady, though her heart pounded furiously in her chest.

Killian took a slow step toward her, his eyes locked on hers, piercing into her very soul.

“Ye can shout at me all ye like, lass,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvety drawl as he leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek, “but we both ken it’s not anger that’s got ye trembling.”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” she scoffed, stepping back slightly, but her pulse betrayed her, quickening with every inch he closed between them.

Killian’s smirk deepened, his gaze flicking over her face, lingering on her parted lips.

“Oh, ye’re good at pretending, lass, but not good enough.”

He reached out, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, his touch sending a shiver down her spine.

“I can see it in yer eyes, the way ye’re tryin’ so hard to hide it.”

Yvette swallowed, her mind screaming to retreat, but her body refused to obey.

“I am not hiding anything,” she managed, her voice tight.

“Aye, ye are,” he murmured, taking another step closer, his presence overwhelming. “Ye can try to fight it, but I know the truth. Ye want this… want me .”

Before she could protest, Killian leaned down, his breath mingling with hers, a teasing whisper escaping his lips.

“And I think, lass, ye’re just as tired of pretending as I am.”

With that, he closed the distance, capturing her lips in a kiss that was as fierce as it was inevitable.

It wasn’t a kiss of tenderness, but of frustration—of everything they hadn’t said to each other. The heat between them was undeniable, as if the very air around them had caught fire.

Yvette froze for a moment, surprised by the suddenness of the kiss, but soon, she found herself responding, her hands pressing against his chest as if to push him away, yet unable to pull herself from the moment. It was as though every emotion they’d been harboring finally had an outlet, and it poured out in that kiss.

But, just as quickly as it began, Killian pulled away, stepping back with a ragged breath. His expression was full of frustration and disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite understand what had just happened.

“This was a mistake,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

He turned on his heel and walked toward the door, but before he could leave, he paused, his back still to her.

Yvette stood there, breathless and wanting more, unable to process what had just occurred.

The irony of the situation was not lost on her—she had woken up this morning determined to clear her mind of him, and yet here she was, her mind swirling in the aftermath of his kiss.

It had meant something, hadn’t it?

Yvette could not shake the memory of the kiss even as she returned to her chambers. It was the only thing on her mind, replaying over and over like an unwanted melody that refused to leave her thoughts.

What annoyed her most was how easily Killian had dismissed it, walking away as though it had never happened. The way he had pulled her close, the desperation with which he’d kissed her —it couldn’t have been a mistake. Not when he had held her as though he were afraid she might slip away.

She sighed. Why was she letting it bother her so much? She barely knew this man, and yet her body reacted to him as though she had known him for a lifetime. She stopped, letting out another sigh, this time long and slow.

“Your Grace, are you all right?”

Yvette blinked, returning her attention to Daisy standing behind her, watching her through the reflection in the mirror. Daisy had a concerned look on her face as she finished brushing out Yvette’s damp hair, and Yvette met her gaze.

“Just lost in thought,” Yvette replied, though the words felt hollow. She couldn’t tell Daisy what was truly on her mind. The kiss was too complicated, too confusing for words.

Daisy, ever perceptive, didn’t push. She simply nodded and continued her task, her hands steady as they moved through Yvette’s hair.

When she had finished, the room felt unnaturally quiet. The silence was almost suffocating as Yvette stared at herself in the mirror.

Was she really ready for this life? This strange, complicated life with Killian?

Before she could consider the question further, a sharp knock echoed through the door, and the butler’s voice called from the other side.

“Your Grace, you have visitors. They are from St. Catherine’s Nunnery.”

Yvette froze. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a cold wave of dread wash over her. The last people she wanted to see today of all days were the nuns from St. Catherine’s. She could feel her pulse quicken, her chest tightening with anxiety.

What could they want?

She hadn’t heard from them since she’d snuck out the nunnery, and she hadn’t been planning on ever seeing them again.

“I’ll be right out,” she said, though her voice trembled slightly.

As she stepped into the hall, she was greeted by the sight of four older nuns, their faces stern and unwelcoming. They were standing on the castle’s doorstep, and their eyes narrowed when they saw her approach.

Their posture was rigid, almost disapproving, and they did not enter the castle as most visitors would. Instead, they stood outside as though the mere act of stepping into her home was beneath them.

Yvette’s stomach churned with apprehension and anger. These women had been the ones to make her life in the nunnery miserable, and now they had come to haunt her again.

“Good day, Yvette,” Sister Mary said sharply. “It is time for you to return to St. Catherine’s, where you belong.”

Yvette’s heart sank, but she lifted her chin in defiance.

“I am not a runaway,” she said firmly. “You know I could have left at any time if I had wanted to. But I chose to move on with my life.”

The nun scowled, her lips twisting in distaste. “You are deep into the hands of sinful desires,” she sneered, looking Yvette up and down as though she were a stain on the world. “Do you think you’d ever make a fine duchess? No, child. You need to be purged of your wayward mind.”

Yvette felt her face burn with shame, especially with Mrs. Calloway and Daisy standing beside her. The last thing she wanted was for them to witness the women who had caused her so much pain berating her.

Before she could respond, a strong voice cut through the tension, booming from behind her.

“No one is taking my wife from me,” Killian’s voice was like thunder, and Yvette turned sharply to see him striding toward her.

His expression was fierce, his eyes dark with anger. He stepped forward, taking her hands in his with surprising tenderness, though his words were anything but gentle.

“In case ye four are not aware, she is now a duchess, and ye must regard her with the respect that she is due.”

The nuns seemed momentarily taken aback by his sudden appearance and forceful words. Their eyes widened as they looked at him, and for a moment, there was a tense silence.

“She is still under the influence of sin,” Sister Ruth, the oldest one, sniffed disdainfully, clearly refusing to let go of the idea that Yvette needed saving. “She is not fit for such a life.”

Killian didn’t flinch. His grip on Yvette’s hands tightened as he turned his attention back to the nuns. “I’ve made it clear. She’s mine now. And no one is going to take her from me—not you, not anyone.”

Yvette felt a surge of emotion rise in her chest at his words. She had never expected Killian to defend her like this, especially not in front of these women.

The warmth of his touch, the strength of his declaration, stirred something deep within her. For a brief moment, she felt protected, as though she was standing in the eye of a storm, safe from the chaos around her.

The nuns exchanged looks, their faces pinched with disapproval.

“We shall return to have a proper conversation about this,” one of them said.

“And when ye do, I shall make sure to have ye all arrested. So by all means, be my guests.”

The tone of his voice must have scared the women, because they turned and walked away, leaving Yvette standing with Killian, her heart still racing.

Once they were gone, Yvette turned to him, her voice quieter but no less fierce.

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes meeting his. “I didn’t expect you to stand up for me like that.”

Killian gave her a small almost reluctant nod.

“I do not appreciate people trying to take what’s mine,” he said simply, his gaze steady on hers. There was a brief pause before he added, “and you are mine now, Yvette.”