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

Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

K illian’s kiss was rough, claiming, but she met him with equal fervor. Their bodies pressed together, searing heat building with every frenzied touch.

His hands roamed, tugging her waist against him, then sliding down to her hips.

Her fingers tangled in his thick, dark hair as she arched into him, her skin burning where his hands gripped her.

With one hand still cupping her cheek, his other skimmed down her side, tracing the curve of her thigh before sliding beneath the hem of her gown.

Yvette gasped as his fingers brushed against her bare skin, igniting a fire that consumed her from within.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled against her lips, his voice rough and desperate, though his hand didn’t still.

“Don’t. Don’t stop,” she whispered, tilting her head back against the wall, surrendering to the flames consuming her.

Killian’s mouth trailed down her neck, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her throat while his hand teased higher beneath her skirts, finding her quim and sending shivers through her body.

His fingers brushed against the sensitive core of her, drawing a sharp moan from her lips.

Christ! What was this sensation?

She had never experienced anything like it before, and she felt she’d go crazy. She had wickedly provoked him when she didn’t know half of what it entailed.

“Ye’re driving me mad,” he murmured darkly, his breath hot against her ear.

His fingers teased, sliding in between her, to her wetness. She sucked a breath.

“Ye like that, do ye not?” He asked but Yvette couldn’t bring herself to respond.

Her lips parted, but no words came out as his finger sunk into her, pulling in and out, until her knees nearly buckled from the intensity of her need.

“Oh!” She moaned breathlessly, sending her head backward, but it was blocked by the door behind her.

Yvette clung to him, gasping as he claimed her mouth again.

His touch was relentless, pushing her further into a dizzying haze of pleasure. She could feel herself unraveling, lost in the relentless, heady pull of him.

Then—

A sharp knock sounded behind her, the sound cutting through the haze like ice water.

They both froze, their breathing ragged, hearts pounding in unison. Killian’s forehead rested against hers, his fingers still gripping her waist as he cursed under his breath.

“Your Grace?” a voice called from the other side of the door, hesitant and uncertain. “Shall I return later?”

Yvette bit her lip, struggling to contain her wild breathing. Killian’s eyes burned into hers, frustration and desire warring within their depths.

Slowly, he drew back, his jaw tight with restraint.

“Later,” he growled. his voice low and dangerous, then he did something so wanton.

He placed the finger that had been inside her into his mouth and sucked on it.

“Mm, as I expected—so bloody delicious,” he whispered.

Yvette sucked in a breath, and for a couple seconds, she forgot how to breathe, shocked by the intensity of it all.

As the sound of retreating footsteps echoed in the corridor, silence settled between them, thick with unspoken tension.

Yvette’s pulse still thundered, her lips swollen from his bruising kisses.

“This isn’t over,” he promised darkly, his gaze piercing through her.

And Yvette knew, with every breathless, trembling part of her, that he was right.

The next morning, Yvette awoke feeling different. It was as if something within her had shifted overnight.

Her mind, usually burdened with uncertainty and confusion, felt clear—like the morning sunlight streaming in through her window. Her skin felt warmer, flushed, as though every part of her was more alive than before.

She touched her cheeks absentmindedly, aware of the heat, and felt her heart skip a beat as memories of the night before flooded her senses.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Daisy greeted cheerfully as she entered with a tray of hot water. Her bright eyes immediately darted to Yvette’s flushed face. “You’re glowing this morning.”

Yvette quickly dropped her hand from her face, and the tips of her ears turned pink.

“Oh. I am sure it’s nothing,” she replied a little too quickly, her words betraying the warmth on her cheeks. “I must have just slept unusually well.”

Daisy, ever the oblivious one, merely smiled and hummed as she prepared Yvette’s bath. “I am glad to hear it. Perhaps the change in the weather agrees with you, Your Grace.”

She busied herself with the preparations, leaving Yvette to quietly reflect on the strange rush of emotions inside her.

Yvette tried to steady herself, gathering the courage to face the day ahead. She had been awake far too early, her thoughts racing with the events of the night, and now she had to act as though everything was normal.

“I wonder,” Yvette asked, forcing a casual tone as she stood before her mirror, brushing through her hair, “Have you seen His Grace this morning, Daisy?”

Daisy paused, then replied with a quick nod. “Yes, Your Grace. He left early this morning. I believe he had business to attend to.”

The mention of Killian leaving caused something to tighten in Yvette’s chest, and for a moment, she could not mask the fleeting disappointment that crossed her features.

She hadn’t expected to see him at breakfast. She shook the thought away, forcing herself to smile.

“Ah, I see,” Yvette murmured, trying to mask the tinge of sadness. “Well, it’s not important.”

Yvette managed a small sigh as Daisy dressed her for the day, her thoughts swirling in her head.

Was this how things would always be? Would it always feel like she was the one trying to reach for something she couldn’t have?

When she arrived in the dining room, Yvette was surprised to see Maisie sitting at the table, her small legs swinging under the chair as she tried to sit still.

As soon as the little girl saw her, her face lit up like the sun, and she bounced up from her seat, running straight toward Yvette.

“Duchess!” Maisie exclaimed with a bright giggle.

She wrapped her arms around Yvette’s legs, and Yvette froze for a moment before bending down to hug her back.

“Good morning, sweet Maisie,” Yvette said softly, her heart swelling with warmth at the little girl’s affection.

Maisie stepped back and looked up at Yvette with her innocent eyes. “You look different today, Duchess. Did you get a new dress?”

Yvette smiled and shook her head. “No, Maisie, but thank you anyway.” She straightened up, guiding Maisie back to the table. “Shall we sit for breakfast?”

As they approached the table, Killian walked in, his footsteps heavy but purposeful. His eyes quickly darted to the two of them, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Well, well, are ye about to have breakfast without me?” he asked, his tone light but teasing.

Maisie squealed with delight and ran toward him.

“Papa!” she cried as she threw her arms around his legs.

Killian bent down, effortlessly lifting Maisie into his arms, and a smile tugged at Yvette’s lips.

The sight of Killian holding his daughter was enough to stir something in her chest.

“Good morning, little one,” Killian said, pressing a kiss to Maisie’s forehead. He then turned his gaze to Yvette. “I see I’m not the only one who’s had a good start to the day.”

Yvette smiled back, though her gaze lingered on him for a moment too long. “Good morning, Your Grace.”

Killian set Maisie down at the table before taking his own seat. “I trust we’re all hungry this morning,” he remarked as they all began to settle, his eyes darting to Yvette before he added, “because I am famished.”

Yvette colored fiercely, looking down at her hands on her dress.

“So,” Killian began after a few moments of comfortable silence, glancing at Yvette. “How does yer day look ahead of ye, wife?”

Yvette paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, giving him a playful look.

“Well, I suppose I will be spending it with Maisie. She and I have been making quite a bit of progress with her drawing, haven’t we?”

Maisie nodded eagerly, taking a bite of her food. “Yvette is the best! I draw all the pictures I can!”

Killian chuckled, his eyes softening as he glanced at Yvette. “It seems ye two have become quite the pair.” He set down his knife, his expression turning thoughtful.

“It would be nice if you could be a pair with her also,” Yvette said slowly, watching his expression.

To her surprise, the edges of Killian’s lips tugged up.

“What is it ye’re suggesting, then?”

Yvette looked up, meeting his gaze. “Maisie deserves more time with her father. You don’t always have to be away so much.”

The table fell into a brief silence, Killian studying Yvette’s face as though weighing her words.

“And what will ye be doing while we spend time together?” he asked, the teasing edge returning to his voice.

Yvette smiled, her fingers brushing the edge of her teacup. “I have a book to read. I’m sure I’ll manage,” she replied lightly.

Killian’s lips quirked upward in a faint smile. “A book?” He shook his head, amused. “Of course. A book it is.”

Yvette’s smile deepened, and she glanced at Maisie, who was busy picking at her breakfast.

She returned her gaze to Killian, holding his eyes with a quiet challenge. “You know, I think you’re the one who should join us, Killian. It will do you good to relax.”

He arched an eyebrow, his smile widening as he leaned back in his chair.

“I suppose I have no choice, do I?” He gave Maisie a playful look. “I suppose I will allow myself to spend a little more time with my girls.”

Yvette, Killian, and Maisie had decided to spend the day outdoors, enjoying a moment of peace away from the usual bustle of the estate.

The warm, golden rays of the sun bathed the Braemore Castle estate in a soft glow, making it the perfect day for a picnic.

Staff members scurried about, preparing the meal with eager hands and bright smiles, the joy of the outing contagious.

The blanket laid on the grass was soon covered in a spread of treats—cakes, biscuits, freshly baked tarts, and several pitchers of juice and tea. The scent of sweet pastries mingled with the fresh garden air, making the whole scene feel like a dream.

Maisie, her eyes wide with excitement, jumped up and down in circles, eagerly awaiting the moment she could dive into the spread of food.

“This is going to be the best day ever!” she declared, her voice full of youthful joy.

Killian was seated beside the picnic blanket, carefully crafting a kite for Maisie. His large hands moved skillfully, shaping the frame and attaching the colorful fabric.

Maisie hovered around him, her small hands on her hips as she watched his every move with rapt attention.

“Papa, will it fly high?” she asked, her little face full of hope.

Killian gave her a rare smile, the corners of his lips lifting. “It will fly as high as you want it to, Maisie.”

Once the kite was completed, Killian stood and handed it over to Maisie. Her eyes sparkled as she took it, and with an excited squeal, she ran off, the kite soaring high behind her.

Killian followed close behind, his long legs easily matching her pace as he laughed with her, the sound of their happiness ringing in the air.

Maisie’s laughter was contagious, her joy like a brilliant light. She ran faster, her tiny feet kicking up grass as she held the kite string, her father running beside her, encouraging her with every step.

Then, in the excitement, Maisie stumbled and fell, the ground rushing up to meet her.

Killian was beside her in an instant, lifting her into his arms with surprising gentleness for a tall, strong man.

“Are you all right, Maisie?” he asked, his voice laced with worry. But the little girl only giggled, clearly unfazed by the tumble, her bright eyes still shining with happiness.

Yvette quickly rose to her feet, rushing over to them, though Maisie barely seemed to need her attention. She was too caught up in her laughter and the joy of the moment.

“I am fine,” Maisie assured her, reaching up to wrap her tiny arms around Yvette’s neck.

With a laugh of her own, Yvette kissed Maisie’s cheek. “You’re such a brave girl.”

Maisie nodded enthusiastically. “I can do anything if I’m with Papa!”

Killian returned them to the picnic blanket, still holding Maisie in his arms. He lowered her gently to the ground.

Yvette sat beside them. She settled back against the soft grass, her eyes shifting to Killian as he sat beside her.

The quiet comfort of the picnic was only occasionally interrupted by the sound of Maisie’s gleeful chatter.

“Papa, do you think we can go horse riding together on the morrow?” Maisie cranked her neck, staring up at her father.

Killian’s eyes touched Yvette’s face, before he returned his attention to Maisie, tapping her head.

“Only if you wake up early enough,” he said with a smile down at her, pinching her cheeks in the process. The little girl jumped with excitement and wrapped her arms around Killian, who couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ll wake up at first light!” The little girl declared with such determination, then she turned to Yvette.

“Duchess, did you hear that? Papa will take me riding in the morning,” she said in a sing-song voice. Yvette nodded her head, a smile on her face, directed at Killian, who leaned toward her slightly and spoke in a low voice.

“You could come with us, if you’d like. Your presence will be greatly appreciated.”

Yvette colored fiercely.

As they ate and chatted, there was an unspoken connection between Yvette and Killian, moments when their hands brushed against each other, their fingers just grazing, sending sparks of electricity through Yvette’s veins.

She tried her best to focus on the beautiful afternoon and the laughter of her daughter, but the touch of Killian’s skin, the warmth of it, lingered in her thoughts.

She could still feel the sensation on her own skin, the way his fingers had caressed her earlier, and her heart fluttered at the memory.

She focused on her food, trying to calm the heat that rushed to her cheeks, but she couldn’t help the blush that stained her face.

Killian noticed, of course, and raised an eyebrow at her, his voice playful yet laced with an undertone of curiosity.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” he teased.

Yvette quickly looked away, pretending to study the food in front of her.

“It’s the sun,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. “It’s making me warm.”

Killian chuckled, clearly unconvinced, and leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving her flushed face. He picked up a small piece of cake from the plate and popped it into his mouth.

His eyes never left hers as he slowly licked the frosting off his fingers, the movement deliberate, just like he’d done the night before.

It was as though he was reminding her that they had unfinished business.

Yvette sucked in a breath, her heart skipping a beat as her mouth went dry, and her thoughts scrambled for something, anything, to focus on other than the heat building between them. But her mind was not cooperating. All she could think of was the way his lips had moved, and the temptation in his gaze.

She felt as though she might combust under the intensity of his stare. Killian, ever aware of the effect he had on her, flashed her a knowing grin, one that was all too confident.

Yvette quickly turned her attention back to Maisie, though her body seemed to betray her. The feeling of the warmth in her chest, the fluttering in her stomach, was all too much.

Killian would surely be the death of her, she thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Papa,” Maisie piped up, her face alight with joy. “Do you think we can fly the kite again after we finish eating?”

Killian’s attention shifted immediately to his daughter, his smile softening as he looked at her.

“Of course, Maisie. We can fly it as much as you want.”