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

Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

“ S he’s awake!” The words pierced through the haze of Yvette’s consciousness, and slowly, her eyes fluttered open.

The brightness of the room made her squint, and she felt a dull ache in her head, as her gaze slowly adjusted, while she took in her surroundings.

The first thing that caught her attention was the source of light—the harshness of daylight pouring through open curtains. The room was spacious, and well furnished.

As her vision cleared, she noticed the two women seated at her bedside. Both of them were staring at her with hopeful, almost relieved expressions. Fiona’s face was streaked with tear marks, and beside her, Georgiana appeared equally concerned, though slightly more composed.

“Oh heavens, Yvette!” Fiona’s voice cracked as she lunged toward her, taking Yvette’s hands in hers, her grip tight with emotion.

“I thought we’d lost you. You have no idea how scared I was when you ran out and fainted!” Her voice trembled with the weight of the fear she had clearly been holding in.

Georgiana, sensing Fiona’s overwhelming distress, placed a calming hand on her shoulder, gently urging her to step back.

“She just woke, Fiona. I think we should give her some time to regain herself.”

Fiona, though still visibly shaken, nodded, her hand lingering on Yvette’s as she backed away. Georgiana smiled warmly at Yvette, her gaze soft with care, while Yvette’s head still swam with confusion.

Yvette’s voice, rough from the strain of sleep and the weight of everything that had happened, broke the silence.

“Where am I?” She glanced around the room again, a sense of familiarity tugging at her memory, but she couldn’t quite place it.

Fiona and Georgiana exchanged quick glances, before returning their attention to Yvette.

Fiona, eager to share the news, sprang to her feet.

“I’ll go and let everyone know that she has woken up!” she exclaimed, her tone hopeful, and despite her initial panic, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Georgiana nodded, agreeing.

“It’s a good idea. You must be starving, Yvette. Everyone will be so relieved.”

Fiona gave Yvette one last soft smile before hurrying out of the door, leaving Georgiana to remain at Yvette’s side. As she settled back beside the bed, she took Yvette’s hands gently into hers, her voice low and soothing.

“How are you feeling? Do you feel any discomfort?” Georgiana’s voice was tender, filled with concern. Her gaze never left Yvette, watching her closely for any sign of distress.

Yvette nodded, her fingers curling slightly around Georgiana’s hands.

“My head… it hurts,” she whispered, her voice still faint.

Georgiana’s brow furrowed slightly, but her smile remained kind.

“It’s to be expected. You’ve been through quite a lot.” Her thumb stroked Yvette’s hand softly, as though trying to comfort her.

Yvette blinked and paused, her thoughts swirling.

“Where am I?” she asked again, a hint of confusion coloring her voice.

Georgiana’s expression softened, and she chuckled lightly.

“You’re in your childhood room, Yvette. In your family’s London house.” She glanced around the room with a smile, clearly seeing the space through different eyes than Yvette’s.

“I know it doesn’t look exactly like it did before. Edward had it renovated years ago.”

Yvette’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked around. She hadn’t expected the room to look so different. It was still grand, still filled with all the warmth and elegance of her youth, but it had been transformed. The furniture was new, but it still carried the essence of the space she had once known.

“It’s… it’s nothing like I remember,” Yvette murmured, her voice soft with nostalgia.

Georgiana laughed lightly.

“That’s because it’s been renovated. Edward thought, if you were to return, you wouldn’t want to come back to a room that looked just like it did when you left. He wanted it to feel like a new beginning for you.”

Yvette’s heart clenched at the thought of Edward’s thoughtfulness, and she felt a pang of guilt for not being able to appreciate it fully in that moment.

“How… where is Maisie?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, the concern in her voice clear.

Before Georgiana could answer, the door to the bedroom opened suddenly with a soft creak, and in the doorway stood Killian. His face was etched with exhaustion, his breath coming in heavy pants, and his eyes locked onto Yvette instantly.

She froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. He was here. She hadn’t expected to see him so soon, let alone in such a state. The intensity in his gaze, the worry, and relief—it all flooded her in a single wave.

Yvette opened her mouth to speak, but her words caught in her throat. Her emotions were tangled between the overwhelming relief of being alive and the worry that still clawed at her insides.

Killian’s gaze softened when it met hers, but his expression hardened with a sense of urgency. He strode toward her in quick, measured steps, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Yvette…” he began, but his voice faltered, thick with emotion.

Killian choked up as he stared at her, his breath hitching in his chest. His eyes locked with hers, searching for any sign of recognition. It had been three days, three long, agonizing days, and he had nearly lost his mind.

The woman he loved—his wife—had been unconscious, her life hanging in the balance after the fire. The uncertainty, the fear of losing her, had gnawed at him like a constant ache in his chest.

Every day that passed without her waking felt like a weight he couldn’t bear, a burden that only grew heavier with each hour. He had done everything in his power—called the best doctors, hired the finest caregivers. Yet, nothing seemed to pull her from the darkness.

If only he had stayed home that night, if only he hadn’t let the tension between them drive him away, perhaps he could have been there in time to save her, to save them both. The thought tormented him endlessly, eating away at him, reminding him of his failure.

“Yvette,” her name sounded foreign on his lips now, since he had said it too many times in his desperate prayers. His throat tightened, but he swallowed it down.

She was awake. She was here. But he couldn’t shake the suffocating guilt. He was the reason they had been caught in that inferno. He had avoided the house, avoided facing his own mistakes, and now here she was, fragile and pale in front of him.

Yvette didn’t say anything at first, just stared at him, her eyes dark and searching. The tension in the room was thick and heavy, and neither of them spoke for a moment, each lost in their thoughts, trying to make sense of everything.

Georgiana—sensing their need for privacy—excused herself, leaving the room with a soft murmur of understanding. Killian was grateful to her. The silence between him and Yvette was suffocating, but it was necessary, he thought. They needed this moment to breathe, to reconnect.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Killian broke the silence. He reached out and gently took Yvette’s hands in his, his large, calloused fingers dwarfed by her slender ones.

“How are you?” he asked softly, his voice trembling slightly. He cursed the way it cracked as the weight of all the days he had spent waiting for her to wake was pressing against him. His eyes stayed fixed on her hands, tracing the delicate lines of her fingers.

Yvette’s gaze softened, but she didn’t answer immediately. She wasn’t ready to speak yet, he could tell. But then, almost as if by instinct, she asked again, her voice faint but clear.

“How is Maisie?”

Killian’s heart gave a little dance Even now, after everything, Yvette’s first thought had been for his daughter.

“She’s doing well enough,” Killian said quickly, his words steady but laced with the deep ache he’d carried. “Maisie woke up that same night,” he continued, his throat tight. “But ye… ye didn’t. I—I didn’t know what to do. I thought—” He faltered, shaking his head, not quite able to finish his sentence.

Yvette looked at him with concern, her brow furrowing slightly, but she didn’t speak again, not yet. She just let him talk, let him work through the words that seemed so difficult for him to form.

Killian cleared his throat and stared at their hands, still clasped together. His fingers ran over her delicate skin, tracing absent lines as he spoke, trying to organize the tumultuous thoughts in his head.

“I thought I’d lost ye,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. It was the kind of admission that burned on his tongue. The words carried a weight that seemed too heavy for him to bear.

“When—” he started and paused, fighting the knot that had formed in his throat. “When ye ran outside and I saw yer body collapse, I couldn’t think straight. Hell,” he ran a hand through his hair, frustration and grief tightening his chest, “when I arrived, and I was told ye and Maisie were still in there, I thought I’d lost my entire world.”

The pain of it all—the desperation, the fear—flooded through him in waves. The memories of that night, of rushing into the inferno, of the suffocating smoke and heat, played like a cruel loop in his mind. He clenched his jaw, as if trying to suppress the haunting images that came unbidden.

“The irony of everything is that I tried to stay away from ye,” he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. “I tried to protect ye, to stay away from the pain of losing ye, and look where it got me. Then I had to bear the pain of watching ye almost lifeless for days, unable to do anything but wait.”

Yvette’s gaze softened as she listened to him, her heart aching at the raw emotion in his voice. She could see the guilt in his eyes, could feel the weight of the burden he carried.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Yvette,” Killian whispered, his voice breaking ever so slightly as he looked into her eyes. He leaned closer, his forehead almost touching hers as he searched her face for any sign of forgiveness, for any sign that she understood.

Yvette blinked, her gaze fixed on Killian as his words sank in. She wasn’t sure when the tears had started to spill from her eyes, but she felt them, hot and trembling against her cheeks. It wasn’t until Killian’s warm, large hand reached up to wipe them away that she became aware of her sorrow. But she didn’t speak, not yet. Killian was still talking, and she could sense the weight in his voice—something deeper than his usual bravado. Something raw. Vulnerable.

“I hate that it took almost losing ye to realize that I can’t live without ye,” he continued, his voice low, thick with emotion. “I hate that it took nearly losing both of ye for me to see what was always in front of me. I love ye, Yvette. I love ye dearly.”

Yvette’s chest tightened as his words wrapped around her heart. She had never imagined Killian, of all people, would express himself in such a way. Killian, the duke who had always kept his emotions tightly bound, who had never allowed himself to show vulnerability, was pouring out his soul to her now, and it left her breathless.

He hesitated, and his eyes searched hers with an intensity that made her feel as though she was drowning in them.

“It was foolish of me to ever call what we shared a mistake. After that argument, I couldn’t focus on anything. Every time I closed my eyes, it was you, Yvette, always tormenting my thoughts. Every moment apart felt like torture.”

A small smile tugged at Yvette’s lips. She had thought she was the only one who had struggled with their lack of communication.

She had tried to hold her composure, to pretend she wasn’t aching for him every moment they were apart, but now, knowing that he had been just as tormented, made her heart swell. She had missed him so deeply, the ache in her chest had become unbearable, and she had tried to bury it—though it was impossible to ignore.

Yvette could only nod, unable to speak, her emotions too overwhelming to articulate. Killian took a deep breath and clasped her hands gently in his, his fingers wrapping around hers as if he could hold on to her forever.

“If ye’ll still have me,” he said, his voice thick with desperation and sincerity, “I promise I’ll be better. I’ll do better. I’ll be the best husband, the best father to Maisie. I swear it, Yvette. If ye’ll let me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, to reassure him, but he stopped her with a gentle press of his finger to her lips, his eyes pleading for her to let him finish.

“No more regrets, Yvette. No more running away from what we are,” he added quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “Let me be the husband ye deserve.”

Yvette shook her head, wiping away the fresh tears that had fallen, and cleared her throat. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her heart aching for all they had been through. The pain, the distance, the silence that had threatened to tear them apart—it all seemed so far away now, as though it had all been a bad dream.

“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, Killian,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

“I’ve missed you so much. When the fire started, I tried to fight my tears, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing you again, not after everything we’ve been through. And Maisie…” She paused, her breath catching. “I felt so sorry for her. She hasn’t even begun to live her life. I really thought?—”

Yvette stopped herself, the words choking in her throat. Killian’s hand tightened around hers, and he nodded.

“Maisie probably felt your resolve to keep her alive,” he said quietly. “The first thing she asked was ‘Where’s Duchess?’” His voice softened. “When I told her ye hadn’t woken up yet, she went silent. She hasn’t said a word since then.”

Yvette felt the weight of his words, her heart breaking for the little girl who had already endured so much. Maisie had suffered so much in her young life, from not knowing her mother, to not receiving enough affection from her father, and then she was nearly kidnapped.

“Has she… has she been alright?” Yvette asked, her voice barely above a whisper, because she could not imagine the mental strain that night had had on her.

Killian nodded, though his expression darkened as he explained further.

“She’s fine, physically. But mentally… she’s been asking questions, Yvette. Questions that I don’t think she should remember.”

“We’ve been trying to investigate the fire, and it seems it wasn’t an accident. It was set intentionally, and the man responsible… well, we’ve been searching for him.” Killian added after a pause.

Yvette’s heart skipped a beat, the realization hitting her with a sickening thud. “It was Lord Hilfern.”

“Lord Hilfern?” Killian asked darkly and Yvette nodded.

“No one knows where he’s gone, though. We’re still looking for him, but he’s vanished.”

Yvette’s brows furrowed in confusion as she recalled the night, and his excruciating demise.

“I doubt you’ll ever find him,” Yvette said to him, trying to rid herself of the sound of his desperate cries as the flames ate away at him.

“Lord Hilfern?” he asked as she nodded.

“But why? Why would he set the house on fire? What does he have to do with us?” Killian asked, and Yvette licked her lips before responding.

Her heart was racing now, her mind scrambling to make sense of what he’d said that night. Killian’s face hardened, as he looked at her.

“Lord Hilfern,” she started slowly, “he… he wanted Maisie. He believes she’s the last of Albina, his first love. He was obsessed with her, Killian. He’d spoken about wanting to preserve and protect her from you, but I wouldn’t let him.” Yvette explained.

“What happened next?” Killian asked and Yvette swallowed.

“It seemed he was intoxicated, and it led to his death. He was so far gone that he couldn’t control himself. He walked into the fire and burned to death.”

Killian’s eyes widened in shock as he processed everything that he’d just heard.

Killian stood at the doorway, his heart heavy after hearing Yvette’s account of the horrific night.

He felt a strange sense of relief knowing that Hilfern was dead, but a part of him couldn’t help but feel that he should have been the one to end him—he should have been the one to protect his family from such an evil force.

But Yvette’s strength, her bravery in the face of everything, had left him speechless.

As he left her room, a quiet sorrow lingered in his heart, but it was a sorrow tinged with a promise. He had to ensure their safety from here on in, no matter the cost.

Meanwhile, later that afternoon, in the warmth of Yvette’s room, the mood shifted when Fiona and Georgiana returned with Edward and Maisie. The little girl, still with traces of concern in her eyes, rushed to Yvette’s side and wrapped her tiny arms around her neck. The room seemed to hold its breath as Maisie’s soft voice broke the silence.

“Mama! You’re truly awake,” she whispered, burying her face into Yvette’s chest.

Tears welled in Edward’s eyes as he wiped them away, his voice cracking as he spoke.

“Yvette, never scare me like that again.”

Yvette’s heart ached at the love in their words, the love that had been put to the test and had survived. She stroked Maisie’s hair and whispered, “I’m here now. I’m here, love.”

That night, when Killian returned to the room, the weight of the day seemed to melt away as he wrapped his arms around Yvette. His voice was low, a promise filled with raw emotion, “I’m never letting go of you.”

Yvette smiled softly, her hands resting on his chest as she whispered, “Don’t let go.”

Killian’s smile grew as he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“It might be greedy of me,” he said, his voice hushed, “but I want to kiss my wife.”

Before she could respond, He gently cupped her neck, his fingers threading through her hair as he guided her lips to his.

The kiss started tenderly, a gentle meeting of lips that spoke of their deep affection. But quickly, the kiss grew more passionate, more demanding. Killian’s hands roamed over her back, pulling her closer as their tongues danced together.

With a groan, Killian pulled back slightly, his breath ragged. He looked into Yvette’s eyes, seeing the same desire mirrored there.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands already working on the buttons of her dress. “I’ll do everything.”

He tried to be gentle as he undressed her, his fingers trembling with the effort. But his need for her was too great, and he found himself moving faster, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, her shoulders, her chest.

Each piece of clothing he removed was replaced with a kiss, his mouth worshipping her body.

Yvette’s breath hitched as he continued his ministrations, her hands clutching at his shoulders for support. She felt a shiver of anticipation running through her as he laid her down on the bed, his eyes dark with desire.

Killian joined her, his hands and mouth never leaving her body. He took his time, exploring every inch of her, making her moan and writhe beneath him. When he finally entered her, it was with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his need.

They moved together, their bodies finding a rhythm that spoke of their deep connection. Their moans filled the room, mingling with whispered declarations of love.

“I love you,” Killian murmured against her lips, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you,” Yvette replied, her hands clutching at his back as they reached their peak together. The world seemed to explode around them, their love and passion consuming them completely.

As they lay together in the aftermath, their bodies entwined, Killian pressed a gentle kiss to Yvette’s forehead.

“I’ll never let go of you,” he whispered once more, his heart filled with a love that would never fade.

And Yvette, her heart equally full, whispered back.

“Never let go of me.”