Page 108 of The Duke's Sinful Bride

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 cruelloop 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. “Ihate 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 andclasped 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.”

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