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After a moment, he spoke, his voice calm but carrying the weight of unspoken history.

“My union with Albina was an arranged marriage. We were both young when we entered into it, and though there was no great love between us, there was mutual understanding and respect.”

His gaze turned toward the horizon again, as if he could see the past stretching out before him, just beyond his reach.

“We were bound by duty. Our roles were clear, and we followed them without question. There was never any illusion of romance, but we both understood the importance of our marriage.”

Yvette listened, her heart softening as she observed the faraway look in his eyes.

Killian had never been the type to speak openly about personal matters, and yet, in his telling, there was no bitterness or regret—just an acceptance of the cards he had been dealt.

“She died during childbirth,” Killian continued, his voice quietening. “I never wanted to marry again after that. Not because I felt some great obligation to her, but because I didn’t think I could go through the stress of it all again. I couldn’t bringmyself to put anyone else in that position, and certainly, I had no desire to revisit the same pattern. Until ye.”

Yvette nodded slowly, her fingers still brushing Maisie’s hair. She could understand his reluctance, the pain of losing someone so abruptly.

There was a certain finality in his words, as if he had resolved long ago to close the door on that chapter of his life.

“Have ye ever seen him again?” Killian asked, breaking the silence.

“Seen who?”

“Yer… yer former fiancé,” his tone was casual, but Yvette could sense the underlying seriousness of the question.

Samuel.

Yvette’s smile was small, a bit sad. “No. And I hope I never have to,” she replied.

Her voice wavered slightly, and she bit her lip as she thought of the man she had once been bound to.

“Even so, I am aware it isn’t possible to avoid,” she continued. “We will have to return to society soon, and he will be there. I’ll have no choice but to face him.”

She knew that returning to society would mean facing the life she had tried to leave behind, but the reality of it was beginning to weigh on her. The thought of being in the same room with him again filled her with a strange sense of dread.

“I’ll make sure you don’t have to see or interact with him ever again,” Killian said, his voice low, but resolute.

The promise in his words was clear, and the intensity in his eyes made Yvette believe every word.

He seemed ready to protect her from anything—and anyone—that could cause her harm.

And she wasn’t ready to face how warmly she felt about that.

Yvette stepped into the hallway of Braemore Castle, the echoes of laughter and the remnants of the afternoon’s garden party still lingering in her mind.

The thought of Killian consumed her thoughts, his presence weaving through her consciousness like an intoxicating scent.

She was not entirely sure what had changed in her, but the desire that coursed through her veins was undeniable and insatiable.

Although at the back of her mind she suspected it was Killian’s subtle teasing of her earlier.

As she made her way to their shared chamber, memories of their last encounter flooded her mind.

The way he had touched her, the way he had made her feel—alive, electrified, and utterly cherished. It was a feeling she had long suppressed, buried beneath the weight of societal expectations and the shame that had once accompanied her desires.

Now, after the scandal that had rocked her world and the oppressive teachings of St. Catherine’s, she felt liberated. She was no longer the timid young woman who had been molded by strict decorum; she was a duchess, a woman with passions and needs that demanded to be fulfilled.

Yvette paused at the door that connected their room, her heart racing in anticipation.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to do. With a gentle push, she entered his room, her eyes immediately locking onto him.