Page 18 of The Duke's Sinful Bride

She’d hesitated at the door with her fist raised to knock, but she couldn’t help but pause and imagine what his response would be.

Surely he wouldn’t find it all too tasking, she’d thought, but she hadn’t been prepared for his response when she finally knocked and went in.

Killian’s office was every bit a duke’s office. There were heaps of documents, stacked next to each other on both sides of his huge, mahogany desk, with him in between it all, staring down at the pages in his massive hands.

“To what do I owe this visit?” he asked, glancing at her briefly before his eyes returned to the documents in hand.

“I have come with a simple suggestion. I could not help but notice that every member of this family has their meals separately, and in their chambers. I find that odd.”

Killian grunted but said nothing more, and so Yvette went on.

“I suggest we have our meals together, preferably breakfast and dinner.”

Killian didn’t look up from the documents spread across his desk. His grunt of acknowledgment was more dismissive than anything else.

“You do understand I have a great deal of work to attend to?” he’d asked, finally meeting her eyes with his stormy gray gaze.

“Work can wait,” Yvette had replied firmly. “Family cannot.”

Killian’s lips had twitched, almost as if he might smile, but the expression vanished before it fully formed.

“If it matters so much to ye, fine. But don’t expect miracles.”

Yvette had taken his reluctant approval as a victory. Yet, getting him to actually show up for dinner proved to be a far greater challenge.

“Mr. Warren, would you be kind enough to check on my husband again? It has been well over twenty minutes since he said he’d need five minutes more to come down,” Yvette asked the old butler, who looked like he’d prefer a much easier task.

It was the butler’s third journey up to Killian’s study, and each time he returned, it was the same message from Killian saying he needed a few minutes more.

However, when he returned this time, Killian trailed behind him, a deep frown between his brows.

“You’re late, husband.” Yvette pointed out the second he touched his chair. Killian passed her a glance, and she noticed the tired lines under his eyes.

“I had every reason to be. I have duties that I must see through,” came Killian’s response.

“Yes, duties like showing up at the table for family meals. You are a duke but you are also a father, and a husband.” Yvette couldn’t hide her irritation at his discourtesy.

Killian regarded her for a few seconds, his lips tight as he stood behind the chair.

“I told ye not to hope for miracles, did I not?” he asked and Yvette narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Surely I shouldn’t have to pray for a miracle to get my husband at the dinner table. Don’t you think?”

The dining room was thick with tension, with neither Yvette nor Killian breaking off the eye contact that bound them.

“Very well then,” Killian finally broke the contact, pulling out his chair to sit.

The days that followed were not any different, and each day when Yvette returned to her room after an unsuccessful dinner, she would sigh and wish things were a lot different, and wonder what she would have to do to effect such a change.

As for Maisie, the little girl hardly said a word. She would sit at the table, her gray eyes darting between her father and Yvette, as though uncertain of her place. When spoken to, she answered in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

It was maddening.

Each meal left Yvette more determined than ever to make a difference. She refused to let the tension between father and daughter persist. If she’d learned anything during her years at St. Catherine’s, it was that change required patience and perseverance.

Yvette sighed, raising the china cup to her lips as she sipped her tea. In days past, she had found solace in the well-tended garden.

The garden was one of Braemore’s few truly inviting spaces. Rows of perfectly trimmed hedges surrounded beds of vibrant flowers, their colors were a welcome contrast to the gray stone of the castle. The air smelled faintly of roses and rosemary, and the sound of birds singing provided a soothing ambiance.

---