Page 75

Killian was already there, his face tight with concern. He crouched beside Maisie, his large hands hovering over her scraped knees, his eyes frantic.

“Maisie! Does it hurt? Oh, Christ, she’s bleeding,” he said, his voice colored with worry and frustration.

Yvette knelt beside him, placing a hand gently on Killian’s arm to calm him. “Killian,” she said softly, her voice steady and comforting.

“She’s fine. Maisie, darling, are you hurt?” she asked, turning her attention to their daughter.

Maisie sniffled, her eyes wide with pain and embarrassment. “I’m okay, Duchess,” she whispered, her lip trembling.

Yvette smiled, brushing a few strands of hair from Maisie’s face.

“See? You’re fine.” She turned to Killian, her voice softening. “She’s a little scraped, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

Killian took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping in relief.

“I know, I just…” His voice trailed off, and Yvette could see the panic still lingering in his eyes. She squeezed his arm gently, offering him a reassuring smile.

“I know, Killian,” she murmured. “But she’s strong, just like her papa.”

Killian gave a small, rueful smile, brushing his thumb over Maisie’s cheek. “I suppose you’re right.” He looked up at Yvette,his eyes warm but still filled with concern. “I just don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“I know,” Yvette whispered back. “But she’ll be okay.”

With that, Killian carefully helped Maisie to her feet, and they all walked back toward the fair, the moment of panic fading into the background as the joy of the day continued to unfold around them.

CHAPTER 23

It had been over a month since the wedding, and though Yvette had settled into life at Braemore Castle, there was always the quiet anticipation that this time would come. The time to return to London, to the bustling city that would once again become their home, albeit for only a short while.

Killian had already given the orders to the household, instructing them to prepare for the journey. The servants were bustling around, packing everything that was needed for their six-day journey, and for the first time, Yvette found herself feeling a litany of emotions.

It was strange how the calm of Braemore had become a refuge, a place where she could breathe and find her footing. But London—London was where everything would change once more.

It was the final day of the journey, and the family was on the road. The carriage creaked as it moved steadily forward, the wheels turning rhythmically over the gravel and dirt paths.Yvette stared out of the window, her mind distant, reflecting on the time spent at Braemore.

Maisie was curled up beside her, sleeping soundly, the rhythmic motion of the carriage had lulled her into a peaceful slumber. Yvette absently stroked Maisie’s curls, her gaze drifting over the landscape, but her thoughts were far from the passing scenery.

It wasn’t long before she became aware of a presence in the carriage that was subtly pulling her attention. She raised her eyes to where Killian sat, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he read through a pile of important papers. He was so focused, but Yvette realized she had been staring at him for quite some time.

She quickly looked away, a faint flush creeping up her neck.

Killian, however, had already noticed her gaze. His eyes lifted from the papers, locking onto hers with an amused yet questioning glance.

Raising an eyebrow, he studied her for a long moment, his lips curling slightly. She pressed her lips together, as her cheeks colored fiercely. She cleared her throat and shifted slightly, trying to ignore the sudden rush of nervousness inside her.

“Sorry,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “I didn’t mean to distract you.”

But what she didn’t realize was that her very presence was a distraction for him. Killian had been forcing himself to concentrate on the papers, even though every instinct in him was urging him to do anything but.

The way she sat there, so effortlessly graceful, her fingers gently brushing through Maisie’s hair, sent a warmth flooding through him. Every time he tried to look back at the paper, his mind would wander to her instead.

“It’s not a problem,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and calm. He set the papers aside, folding them neatly and placing them down on the seat beside him.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, his gaze softening slightly, though his eyes remained on her.

Yvette hesitated for a moment, biting her lower lip as she considered his question. She shook her head, but then a thought crossed her mind, and she spoke up.

“I wanted to know if Fiona is already on her way to your London residence,” she said, her voice uncertain, “or if she’ll wait until we’ve arrived and settled before she comes?”