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The maid’s hands on Yvette’s hair stilled instantly, her face coloring as she faced the duke.

“You may go, Daisy. Thank you,” Yvette told her, and the young maid curtsied.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” she mumbled and then curtsied to Killian, “Your Grace.”

Then, Daisy left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Killian’s gaze lingered on Yvette longer than he’d have liked.

She was dressed in a red silk and lace nightdress, the soft fabric draping over her form in a way that left little to his imagination. Her golden hair fell loosely down her back, and the faint blush on her cheeks made her look even more striking.

What had he come here for again?

His mind faltered as desire coursed through him, a frustration rising at his inability to focus on anything other than how utterly captivating she looked.

“Do you need something?” Yvette asked, her voice breaking the silence.

Her curiosity was evident in her expression as she rose from her seat, taking a few steps toward him. The flush in her cheeks deepened as she approached, and Killian’s breath hitched.

She was beautiful—more than beautiful. Her every feature, from her blue eyes to her soft lips, seemed designed to torment him.

Christ! Had she always been this lovely? Of course, she had.

Killian swallowed hard, gripping the doorframe for a fleeting moment to steady himself.

“Yes, well… no,” he finally replied, his voice rougher than he intended.

Yvette narrowed her eyes, folding her arms across her chest, an action that inadvertently pressed her generous curves together, pulling Killian’s attention downward.

His breath hitched instantly, and a strained sound escaped his throat before he masked it with a sharp cough.

“Ahem.”

“Are you all right?” she asked, taking a step closer to him. “Should I call Daisy to fetch you some water?”

“No,” he said quickly, taking a step back.

The sudden movement was as much about creating distance as it was an attempt to regain control of his thoughts.

“Perhaps I should have knocked before entering,” he murmured, licking his lips nervously.

“Or,” Yvette said with a slyness that caught him off guard, “perhaps you like what you see?”

The boldness of her statement stunned him into silence. His mind screamedyes, but he knew better than to admit it. This seemed to be payback for that night at the inn weeks ago when he had said the same things to her; that night when his control might have slipped if it hadn’t been for the knock at the door.

The corners of Yvette’s mouth curled upward in satisfaction, clearly pleased by his reaction.

Killian cleared his throat again, determined to recover his footing.

“Ye do not want to play this game with me,” he warned, his voice low and laced with a dangerous edge.

“And what if I do?” she countered, tilting her chin up defiantly.

Her bravery stirred something deep within him—something primal. He crossed the room in two long strides, stopping just inches from her. Yvette backed up instinctively, her confidence wavering for a fleeting moment.

When her back hit the wall, Killian closed the remaining distance. With his hand lifted to her face, his thumb and forefinger tilted her chin upward to meet his gaze.

“Ye are treading on dangerous waters,wife,” he whispered, his voice roughened by the tension simmering between them.