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

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

“ I cannot wait to show you what I’ve learned, Papa!”

Killian’s method of making it up to Maisie the following morning was straightforward enough—he would attend her riding lesson.

The little girl’s excitement was evident, her small body practically vibrating with enthusiasm as she bounced around.

Yvette had initially thought that Maisie would be apprehensive about mounting Flash again, given the incident the last time, but to her surprise, it wasn’t fear that filled Maisie’s eyes. It was determination, along with a touch of excitement.

Yvette couldn’t help but think it had more to do with Killian’s presence than the actual riding itself. The girl simply wanted to prove herself to her father, to show him that she was brave and capable, especially after his absence the previous day.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Yvette’s lips as she stood back, watching as Killian walked Flash, with Maisie riding him.

“Faster, Papa!” The little girl urged, but Killian only laughed, walking at the same pace.

“Any faster and it’ll be difficult to keep control of Flash,” he finally told her after her third request.

“This is wonderful.” Maisie said, suddenly changing her mind, and Killian laughed out loud.

The little girl’s eyes glowed as she looked up at Killian, clearly eager for his approval, and Killian, in turn, gave her his full attention. They strolled around for a while before Maisie declared she wanted to show her Papa what she’d learned in the past few weeks.

As Yvette moved closer to them, she couldn’t help but feel a slight shift in the atmosphere.

When Killian noticed her approach, his stance subtly changed. He uncrossed his arms from where they had been tightly folded over his chest and placed them behind him, as if his posture was an unconscious adjustment in her presence.

“Ye’re not dressed to ride,” he remarked, his tone casual yet observant.

Yvette smiled softly, giving a small shake of her head.

“This morning is only about Maisie,” she replied, her voice gentle but firm, as if putting Maisie’s excitement first was the priority.

Killian gave her a small smile in return, his eyes warm as they turned back to watch Maisie and her instructor. The sight was a peaceful one, with the horses grazing in the field, the sun gently casting its golden rays over everything.

“I would never have expected ye would know how to ride, given…” Killian trailed off, the end of his sentence unsaid but hanging in the air between them.

Yvette’s smile softened as she gave a small nod.

“It might be difficult to believe now,” she replied, her voice thoughtful, “but I inherited my passion for riding from my father.”

She paused, feeling a slight pang in her chest at the mention of him.

“He loved it dearly, and it was the one thing we did together,” she finished.

She saw the shift in Killian’s expression as he listened intently, his gaze steady and focused on her, as if trying to understand more about who she was.

There was something about him that kept his emotions in check, but she could see a quiet curiosity in his eyes now.

“It was the only thing we truly shared,” Yvette continued, her voice almost wistful. “And he enjoyed training me. There was something so… special about that time with him.”

She noticed Killian’s eyes never wavered from hers as she spoke, his face softening in an almost imperceptible way. It wasn’t often that Yvette saw him allow himself to be vulnerable, yet she could sense that he wasn’t just hearing her words—he was processing them, too.

“My father even awarded me my first pony, a small thing. Even so, I was over the moon. It felt like the greatest gift, and I cherished it,” her eyes drifted to Maisie again, who was now laughing with her instructor as she mounted Flash with a surprising amount of ease.

“Sounds like yer father was proud of ye,” Killian said quietly, his tone genuine.

Yvette smiled faintly, a light scoff escaping her lips. “I suppose he was. Until the scandal, that is,” she replied.

Killian seemed lost in thought for a moment, as if her words had sparked a deeper reflection in him. He watched as Maisie grew more comfortable on the horse, his face lighting up with pride and something else that Yvette couldn’t quite place.

Then, his expression shifted, and he turned his attention back to her.

“Ye seem to speak of him fondly,” he remarked, the edge of his usual aloofness softened by her story. “I suppose ye miss him.”

Yvette shook her head. “I do not. But I won’t deny that while I was growing up he was my favorite person. After my mother’s passing, he was my only parent, after all.”

She swallowed, feeling the weight of the conversation bearing down on her.

There was a moment of silence, a brief pause where neither of them spoke.

Killian’s gaze softened even further, but he didn’t comment. He turned back to Maisie, watching her as she confidently rode Flash around the paddock, her face alight with joy.

“I can see why ye loved it,” he said finally. “Maisie’s the same. She’s fearless.”

Yvette laughed softly, a genuine smile on her face.

“Yes, she is. I think she takes after her father in that regard,” she added, her tone light, though there was a small hint of teasing in her voice.

Killian raised an eyebrow, a small smirk appearing on his lips. “She might be a little young to have inherited my fearlessness, but I’ll take the compliment.”

As Maisie finished her riding lesson, the excitement was practically buzzing around her. As she dismounted Flash with a grin that could light up the entire estate, she raced over to Yvette, her small hands gripping the reins of her pony tightly.

“Did you see?” Maisie beamed, eyes wide with delight. “I rode Flash without being scared! Just like Papa!”

Yvette’s heart swelled with pride as she clapped her hands.

“I saw, and I am very proud of you, Maisie. You did wonderfully.”

Maisie’s face lit up at the praise, her small chest puffing with pride. She turned quickly, seeking Killian’s attention, the way a child always does for approval.

Killian, standing nearby, met her gaze with a rare soft smile, nodding approvingly.

“Good job, Maisie,” he said, his voice warm but firm. “Now, go on to yer chamber and get ready for breakfast.”

“Thank you, Papa!”

Yvette watched as Maisie scampered off—a smile on her face—but her lips twisted slightly at the abruptness with which Killian had dismissed her.

It wasn’t that Maisie had done anything wrong; in fact, she’d done incredibly well. But the way her excitement was cut short struck Yvette with a sharp pang of discomfort.

She shook her head; this was Killian’s nature.

The afternoon wore on, and Yvette sat in the drawing room with a book in her hands, its pages almost forgotten as she turned them with a distracted air.

Her thoughts were elsewhere, wandering back to Maisie and her father. The girl was so eager to win her father’s approval, and Yvette could see the lengths she would go to gain it.

Just as Yvette was beginning to lose herself to the swirling thoughts, the door to the drawing room opened quietly.

Yvette looked up from her book to find Maisie standing in the doorway, her small figure hesitant, her gaze flicking nervously between Yvette and the space inside the room.

“Is it all right if I stay here, Yvette?” Maisie asked, her voice soft but steady.

Yvette’s heart softened immediately, and she set her book down, her eyes meeting Maisie’s.

She nodded with a smile. “Of course, Maisie. You’re welcome to stay.”

The little girl’s face broke into a relieved smile as she shuffled over to the table, settling herself with a few sheets of paper and a small box of colored pencils.

Yvette watched her for a moment, her heart warming further as she noticed how Maisie seemed so intent on her task, focusing on the paper in front of her. There was something endearing about how absorbed she was, her brow furrowed in concentration as she drew.

Curiosity piqued, Yvette leaned forward slightly, her voice gentle. “What are you drawing, Maisie?”

Maisie didn’t look up, her small hands moving in swift, confident strokes as she spoke, her voice quiet but assured.

“You.”

Yvette’s heart skipped at the words, a tender warmth spreading through her chest. She had not expected that, and she recognized how important this moment was.

For a moment, she simply watched the little girl work, her mind drifting to her own childhood, when her father had been everything to her.

The way he had always made her feel loved and special—until that fateful moment when everything had changed. When she had been betrayed by the very man she had trusted, the man who should have protected her from the cruelty of others.

Yvette had been young and na?ve, and the hurt had nearly been unbearable. She had not known how to fight back, or how to make the world understand her truth.

A tear slipped down Yvette’s cheek, unexpected but undeniable.

She wiped it away quickly, hoping Maisie hadn’t noticed. The last thing she wanted was to burden the little girl with her own broken memories.

Killian had just returned from his visit to the site he was overseeing, his thoughts consumed by the many matters that needed his attention.

He had just ascended the staircase when he caught sight of Yvette rushing out of the drawing room, her hand pressed to her face.

The sight startled him. She was usually composed, confident, and feisty, but now she appeared disheveled, her movements hurried and distressed.

Confused and alarmed, his chest tightened as he followed her up the hall, his steps quickening as he watched her disappear into her chambers.

He stood for a moment outside the door, his hand hovering just inches from the handle. Something in his gut told him this wasn’t something he could ignore.

Without thinking, Killian entered his own room and used the connecting door to Yvette’s chamber.

He moved cautiously, his senses heightened as he entered, his heart pounding.

Yvette was sitting on the edge of her bed, her shoulders shaking as tears spilled down her face.

It wasn’t the violent sobbing he might have expected—there was no wailing or dramatic cries—but the sight of her tears was enough to rattle him.

Yvette was never one to show such vulnerability, especially not in front of him. She was a woman who held herself with such strength, and to see her like this, so undone, was an unsettling sight.

“Yvette,” Killian said, his voice rough, though his concern was evident.

He quickly crossed the room and knelt before her, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“What is wrong? Are ye all right?” Killian asked, anger coating the disbelief in his eyes.

Yvette stayed quiet, not wanting to let him know what had happened.

“Talk to me, Yvette. Did the maids say or do anything to ye? Tell me and I’ll let go of every one of them!” Killian’s voice thundered.

Yvette looked up at him, her eyes red from crying, but she made no effort to wipe her tears. Her lips trembled slightly as she met his gaze.

“No they didn’t… Never mind,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “It is silly. I shouldn’t feel like this.”

Killian’s brow furrowed as he gently reached out and touched her arm, his thumb brushing over her skin as if to comfort her in the only way he knew how.

“Ye don’t have to explain if ye don’t want to,” he said quietly. “But I am here.”

Yvette exhaled shakily, looking down at her hands as she gathered her thoughts.

“When the news of my father’s death reached me at the nunnery, I… I didn’t grieve him,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion.

“I was angry with him. I hated him for what he did to me… for how he treated me.” She paused, her chest tightening. “I still despise him. But… for some reason… thinking about him now, I can’t stop the tears from falling.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to regain some semblance of control.

“I never expected him to betray me the way he did. And now, even though years have passed, the hurt… the anger… it is still there. It feels as fresh as the day he turned his back on me.”

Killian watched her as she spoke, his expression unreadable, though inside, something stirred. He could see the depth of the pain in her eyes, the way her shoulders trembled as she recalled the cruelty of her father. His heart twisted in a way he wasn’t accustomed to.

Yvette’s walls, so carefully constructed over the years, were finally crumbling in front of him, and he was unsure of what he should do. He wasn’t a man who was used to comforting others—especially not someone as fierce and proud as Yvette.

But he couldn’t leave her like this.

Without thinking, Killian moved closer to her, his hand gently sliding up her arm until he cupped the side of her face. He could feel the heat of her tears on his palm, and his chest tightened at the sight of her in such a vulnerable state.

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what words could undo the hurt she carried so deeply, but something inside him urged him to act.

And so, without hesitation, Killian placed a soft kiss on her temple. His lips lingered for just a moment, a simple gesture that he couldn’t explain, a small act of comfort he felt compelled to offer.

The kiss was brief, but it conveyed everything he couldn’t express in words.

It was an apology, an acknowledgment of her pain, and a silent promise that he was there for her, even if only in this moment.

Killian pulled away and stared at her, his breathing suddenly ragged. Yvette could tell the exact time desire came into his eyes, and she watched as his gaze went from her face to her lips, lingering there for moments longer than he was supposed to.

Without warning, his face inched closer stopping a hair’s breadth away from her lips, as though he was seeking permission.

When she didn’t respond, his face came closer, but before he could place his lips on hers, Yvette shifted.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I appreciate your help.”