Page 107 of The Duke's Sinful Bride

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.

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