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

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

“ Y es. I have something very important we must discuss, and I need your attention in the drawing room,” Yvette finally spoke after taking a deep breath, her voice a little firmer than she felt.

Killian, however, didn’t respond immediately.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes at her, studying her with an inscrutable gaze. Was he not trusting her words?

His silence stretched, and Yvette could feel the tension building between them.

“We can discuss that here,” he suggested, his voice cool, but with a certain edge that made her feel as though he were playing some sort of game.

She shook her head immediately, not giving in.

“No, that will not work,” she replied, her voice more forceful now.

She didn’t want to have this conversation at this moment, in the middle of the small house where he was tending to the dogs. But mostly, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate with him half-naked and exuding an energy that was far too distracting.

“Not when you’re not decent.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them, muttered under her breath, but Killian heard them nonetheless.

His lips quirked upward as a knowing look crossed his face.

Amusement danced in his eyes, and she instantly regretted her words. Of course, he would see it as an opportunity to tease her.

He leaned slightly forward, his voice low and laced with a mischievous edge.

“Are ye trying to shame me for being shirtless while I tend to my hounds?”

Yvette took a deep, steadying breath. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, but she held her ground.

He was teasing her, she knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier to face him. She gave a huff, crossing her arms in an attempt to steady herself.

“Yes, I am. There is no reason why you should be shirtless with the animals,” she said, her words firmer than she felt.

She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to meet his gaze as his playful grin widened.

“Would ye prefer I be shirtless with you ?” he asked, and his voice was thick with a quiet challenge, almost daring her to respond.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, her world seemed to slow. The question hung in the air between them, and she felt the heat of his gaze on her skin.

Yvette couldn’t answer. She couldn’t even move. Her thoughts scrambled, her pulse quickening. He was so close now. She could see every droplet of sweat tracing down his tanned skin, glistening under the light of the day.

His muscles were so defined, his body so powerful, it was almost too much to bear. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure, but she felt exposed in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“I—I… I didn’t…” her voice left off, her mind unable to provide a proper answer.

She quickly turned her face away, unable to meet his eyes, her cheeks burning with a heat she couldn’t suppress.

She bit her lower lip, trying to calm her racing heart, but the rush of emotion—embarrassment, desire, confusion—all tangled together, leaving her speechless.

Killian moved closer, his boots silent on the ground as he slowly closed the distance between them.

She could feel his presence, his warmth surrounding her, as he stopped just in front of her. His eyes never left hers, and the intensity of his gaze was both a challenge and an invitation.

“Would you prefer that, wife ?” he repeated, his voice low, thick with something unspoken.

Yvette’s throat tightened, the breath caught in her chest.

Every inch of her screamed to run, to break the tension, but her body betrayed her, remaining rooted to the spot.

And then, as if sensing the storm of emotions swirling within her, Killian cocked his head slightly to the side, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Judging from the look on yer face, I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, his words full of teasing amusement.

Yvette’s eyes widened in shock. His words felt like a revelation, though she couldn’t quite explain why. She was both embarrassed and flustered by the effect his teasing had on her.

She took a step back, as if his words had physically pushed her away, breaking the spell that had wrapped around her. She shook her head quickly, trying to regain control over herself.

“No! I—I… I do not want whatever you said.” Her voice came out a little sharper than she intended, a note of panic creeping in as she struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

“I shall await you in the drawing room. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” her words tumbled out, rushing to put distance between them.

She turned on her heel, nearly stumbling in her haste, and she couldn’t look back at him. She couldn’t let him see how flustered she had become, how his teasing had left her vulnerable and unsettled.

Killian didn’t stop her. She heard his deep chuckle behind her as she walked away, but it didn’t comfort her. In fact, it only made her heart race faster.

She had no idea what had just happened, but one thing was certain: the distance between them had never felt more fragile, and yet, she was physically drawn to him in a way she could not describe.

Yvette pressed her hand against her chest as she walked back to the house, trying to steady her breath.

Her mind was still reeling from the exchange with Killian. The heat of his gaze, the teasing words that had lingered in the air between them, and the unsettling feeling his proximity had left on her skin all still buzzed in her senses.

She couldn’t shake the warmth that radiated from her chest, nor the strange fluttering in her stomach.

She tried so hard to remind herself that her union with Killian was only a means to an end, but the more she interacted with him, the harder it was to ignore the reality that it… it might be turning into something else.

Something far more complicated, and something she wasn’t sure how to navigate.

Her steps quickened as she tried to clear her head, focusing on the path ahead.

She had promised Maisie she would find Killian and she’d almost forgotten why she’d gone to find him. Her breath caught again, and she pressed a hand to her temple, as if trying to hold the turmoil at bay.

Just then, a soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Where’s Papa?” Maisie asked, her large, curious eyes looking up at Yvette.

Yvette blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She had been so wrapped up in her own mind that she hadn’t noticed Maisie there, the little girl’s innocent question snapping her back to the present.

“Oh, that’s right,” Yvette murmured, as if trying to remind herself and offered the girl a reassuring smile. “Your father will be here soon. We need to make sure everything is ready for him before he arrives.”

Maisie’s eyes lit up at the mention of her father, and a quick nod followed.

“I have everything ready,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact, but the joy in her expression made it clear that she was excited.

Yvette’s lips curved into a soft smile, and she gently took Maisie’s hand. “I am glad to hear that. Let us go to the drawing room and wait for him, shall we?”

Maisie nodded enthusiastically, and together, they walked back toward the house.

Yvette tried to hold her thoughts in check as they entered the drawing room, the air inside cooler and more composed.

As Yvette looked around, her gaze landed on a large piece of paper propped up on the easel in the corner. Maisie rushed ahead, eager to show her what she had been working on. Yvette followed, her curiosity piqued.

Maisie had told her the portrait was of Killian, but it was not exactly what Yvette had expected.

It was a depiction of Killian and Maisie alone, their figures drawn in quick, childish strokes. There was a certain warmth to the image, a bond between father and daughter that Yvette couldn’t help but admire.

Yet, as Yvette stood there, staring at the drawing, she couldn’t ignore the small, unexpected sting of emotion that pricked her chest.

She understood it—Maisie only knew her father, and it would take time for the girl to warm up to Yvette. Still, seeing the two of them alone on the paper…

Yvette couldn’t help the feeling that tightened inside her.

She quickly composed herself, her lips curling into a smile as she turned to Maisie. “You did a wonderful job, Maisie. It is a beautiful portrait. I am sure your father will love it.”

Maisie beamed, clearly pleased with the praise. “Do you really think Papa will like it?” she asked, her eyes wide with hope.

Yvette nodded, her voice soft but confident. “Oh, there’s no way he won’t. He’ll be so proud of what you’ve done.”

Maisie clapped her hands together in excitement, her joy infectious. But even as she looked at the portrait with such admiration, Yvette’s thoughts lingered on the absence of her own likeness in the drawing.

She shook her head slightly, trying to rid herself of the bitter taste the thought left in her mouth.

They moved to sit near the fireplace, Yvette carefully taking a seat while Maisie settled beside her.

The two of them waited in silence for Killian’s arrival, their quiet anticipation filling the space.

But the minutes stretched on, and still, Killian did not appear.

Yvette glanced at the clock, her brow furrowing. She had expected him by now, and her nerves began to fray.

She stood up and walked toward the window, her gaze scanning the yard outside, hoping for any sign of him, but Killian was nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe he’s just caught up with something,” Yvette murmured, though her voice lacked conviction.

Maisie, however, was undeterred. She had been so certain that her father would come. She turned her bright eyes to Yvette, a question on her lips.

“Do you think Papa will come soon?”

Yvette swallowed, her heart sinking a little as she smiled down at the little girl. “I’m sure he will. He’s probably just finishing up with work, Maisie. Let’s just wait a little longer.”

Maisie nodded, but her excitement had dimmed slightly, her small face now clouded with confusion. Yvette’s mind raced, wondering what had delayed Killian.

But even as she sat there, waiting for him, something within her gnawed at the back of her mind. The growing distance between her and Killian was becoming all too real, and she wasn’t sure how to bridge it.

For now, though, all she could do was wait.

And still, Killian didn’t come.

Killian stood in front of the mirror, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

He had spent the morning tending to his beasts, and the heat of the day clung to his skin, a mix of dust and sweat from his work.

Though his mind wandered briefly to Yvette’s invitation, he knew a quick bath would do him more good than rushing off to her side in such a state.

He turned away from the mirror, deciding to cleanse himself before he saw her.

The bath was quick but refreshing, the water cool enough to bring him back to his senses. As he stepped out, toweling off, he heard the familiar tap of knuckles on his door.

“Enter,” he called, his voice echoing faintly in the quiet room.

The old butler, stepped in with a polite bow, holding a letter in his hand, “Your Grace, a letter for you. It is marked as urgent.”

Killian’s brow furrowed as he took the letter, the weight of it in his hand telling him that this was no ordinary correspondence.

He broke the seal with a practiced motion, quickly scanning the contents. His stomach tightened as he read.

The letter detailed an issue on one of his construction sites—an entire shipment of materials had been stolen overnight. The scale of the loss was staggering, and the tone of the letter made it clear that his immediate intervention was required.

The problem wasn’t just the theft itself, but the potential for it to disrupt the entire venture, not to mention the reputational damage to his holdings.

His pulse quickened as he processed the urgency.

“Damnation,” he muttered under his breath.

The timing couldn’t be worse. Whatever Yvette needed to speak with him about would have to wait.

He dressed quickly, pulling on his coat and boots before striding to the stables.

Within moments, he mounted his horse and set off toward the site. His mind briefly flickered to his wife as he rode, but it was quickly swept aside by the more pressing concerns of the theft.

When he arrived at the site, the scene was worse than he had expected.

Workers were scattered about, speaking in low tones, some looking over their shoulders, others pacing nervously.

“Your Grace,” the foreman greeted him with a troubled expression. “It’s a disaster. The supplies—gone. Tools, timber, everything. We’ve been robbed, and we’ve no idea who did it.

Killian’s jaw clenched as he took in the scene. “And ye have no leads?” he asked, his voice colder than he had intended.

The foreman shook his head, his face drawn tight with concern. “None, Your Grace. We’ve scoured the grounds, but nothing’s come of it.”

Time slipped away as Killian immersed himself in the problem, coordinating with his men and ensuring that all avenues were explored. He had not expected to spend the entire day at the site, but by the time the sun had set, he had made little progress.

The mystery of the robbery remained unsolved, and the weight of his responsibility pressed on him even more heavily.

By the time he returned home, exhausted and covered in grime, the house was quiet.

Mrs. Calloway greeted him in the hallway, a subtle concern in her eyes.

“Your Grace,” she said softly, “Would you like your dinner sent up to your room? Your wife and daughter have already eaten.”

He shook his head, his hunger a distant thought compared to the weight of the day. “No, thank you, Mrs. Calloway. I’ll pass on dinner. I am heading to bed.”

Without another word, he made his way to his room, the fatigue of the day dragging at his limbs.

Before he could get comfortable, he glanced at the door that connected his room to Yvette’s.

With a sigh, he crossed the room and opened it, stepping into her chamber.

The door creaked softly as he entered, and for a moment, the quiet of the room seemed to settle over him.

Before he could say anything, Yvette’s voice broke through the stillness.

“How nice of you to finally grace me with your presence, my lord ,” she said, her tone cool and laced with sarcasm.