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“I am not yours,” she spat, even as her voice faltered a little. “I am my own person, Your Grace.”

“Aye,” he said, his eyes raking over her face with a heat that made her stomach twist. “Yer own person, but stillmywife. Or have ye forgotten that little fact?”

Yvette scoffed, but the sound came out a little shaky. “A fact neither of us particularly wanted.”

“And yet here we are,” he said, his lips quirking into a slow, predatory smirk.

“Here we are. In a cruel twist of fate,” she muttered, refusing to back down as his looming presence filled the space between them. He seemed not to care that behind the door, just a few paces away, sat Maisie and her governess.

“Is that what ye think?” Killian drawled, his voice dipping lower, as though he were issuing a challenge.

“What I think,” Yvette began, her tone sharp as she took one unconscious step toward him, “is that I don’t need you stepping in to protect me from whispers and idle gossip. Especially when there’s truth to what was said.”

Killian’s smirk faded, his jaw tightening as he studied her.

“What truth?”

Yvette licked her bottom lip, but her voice cracked despite herself.

“I already feel like a sore thumb in this household. Like I don’t belong here, no matter how hard I try. And maybe it is pathetic and desperate of me to keep trying to break through walls that won’t ever come down. But you stepping in to defend me only makes it worse. Your defense is just as unsolicited as their words.”

His eyes flared with something unreadable, a tension simmering between them that made her want to step back, but she didn’t.

“Unsolicited or not,” he began, his voice quiet but sharp as steel, “I won’t stand by while anyone undermines ye. Ye are here. Ye are part of this household, whether ye want to be or not.”

“And that makes meyours?” She shot back, her cheeks flushing as the words slipped out more breathlessly than she intended.

Killian leaned forward slightly, his gaze flickering to her lips for the briefest moment before returning to her eyes.

“Aye,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “It does.”

Yvette’s heart hammered wildly in her chest, and for a brief moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them cracking with tension.

Yvette broke the silence first, her voice trembling with anger and something she didn’t dare name.

“You can’t keep treating me like a mere responsibility, Killian. I am not a possession, and I won’t be treated like one.”

“I don’t see ye as one.”

“I don’t need your protection,” she swallowed hard, her throat dry as her resolve wavered beneath the weight of his intense gaze.

“Perhaps not, but ye’ve got it all the same.”

With that, he stepped back, the tension between them snapping as he put some space between their bodies.

The loss of his nearness left her feeling unsteady, but she refused to show it. She couldn’t.

Killian’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something almost soft in his eyes. He quickly masked it with his usual indifference.

“Now, if ye will excuse me, Duchess,” he stood up. “I have business to attend to.”

CHAPTER 7

“This stew is delicious,” Yvette said.

Maisie, seated beside him, had done a little excited dance when her plate was served, immediately digging into her food without hesitation. Yvette smiled.

“I was eager to taste it, to know why both father and daughter loved it so much, and I must say, I’m impressed,” Yvette added.