Page 42 of The Duke's Sinful Bride

The little girl’s eyes glowed as she looked up at Killian, clearly eager for his approval, and Killian, in turn, gave her his full attention. They strolled around for a while before Maisie declared she wanted to show her Papa what she’d learned in the past few weeks.

As Yvette moved closer to them, she couldn’t help but feel a slight shift in the atmosphere.

When Killian noticed her approach, his stance subtly changed. He uncrossed his arms from where they had been tightly folded over his chest and placed them behind him, as if his posture was an unconscious adjustment in her presence.

“Ye’re not dressed to ride,” he remarked, his tone casual yet observant.

Yvette smiled softly, giving a small shake of her head.

“This morning is only about Maisie,” she replied, her voice gentle but firm, as if putting Maisie’s excitement first was the priority.

Killian gave her a small smile in return, his eyes warm as they turned back to watch Maisie and her instructor. The sight was a peaceful one, with the horses grazing in the field, the sun gently casting its golden rays over everything.

“I would never have expected ye would know how to ride, given…” Killian trailed off, the end of his sentence unsaid but hanging in the air between them.

Yvette’s smile softened as she gave a small nod.

“It might be difficult to believe now,” she replied, her voice thoughtful, “but I inherited my passion for riding from my father.”

She paused, feeling a slight pang in her chest at the mention of him.

“He loved it dearly, and it was the one thing we did together,” she finished.

She saw the shift in Killian’s expression as he listened intently, his gaze steady and focused on her, as if trying to understand more about who she was.

There was something about him that kept his emotions in check, but she could see a quiet curiosity in his eyes now.

“It was the only thing we truly shared,” Yvette continued, her voice almost wistful. “And he enjoyed training me. There was something so… special about that time with him.”

She noticed Killian’s eyes never wavered from hers as she spoke, his face softening in an almost imperceptible way. It wasn’t often that Yvette saw him allow himself to be vulnerable, yet she could sense that he wasn’t just hearing her words—he was processing them, too.

“My father even awarded me my first pony, a small thing. Even so, I was over the moon. It felt like the greatest gift, and I cherished it,” her eyes drifted to Maisie again, who was now laughing with her instructor as she mounted Flash with a surprising amount of ease.

“Sounds like yer father was proud of ye,” Killian said quietly, his tone genuine.

Yvette smiled faintly, a light scoff escaping her lips. “I suppose he was. Until the scandal, that is,” she replied.

Killian seemed lost in thought for a moment, as if her words had sparked a deeper reflection in him. He watched as Maisie grew more comfortable on the horse, his face lighting up with pride and something else that Yvette couldn’t quite place.

Then, his expression shifted, and he turned his attention back to her.

“Ye seem to speak of him fondly,” he remarked, the edge of his usual aloofness softened by her story. “I suppose ye miss him.”

Yvette shook her head. “I do not. But I won’t deny that while I was growing up he was my favorite person. After my mother’s passing, he was my only parent, after all.”

She swallowed, feeling the weight of the conversation bearing down on her.

There was a moment of silence, a brief pause where neither of them spoke.

Killian’s gaze softened even further, but he didn’t comment. He turned back to Maisie, watching her as she confidently rode Flash around the paddock, her face alight with joy.

“I can see why ye loved it,” he said finally. “Maisie’s the same. She’s fearless.”

Yvette laughed softly, a genuine smile on her face.

“Yes, she is. I think she takes after her father in that regard,” she added, her tone light, though there was a small hint of teasing in her voice.

Killian raised an eyebrow, a small smirk appearing on his lips. “She might be a little young to have inherited my fearlessness, but I’ll take the compliment.”

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