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“Is there a problem here?”

Yvette turned sharply to see Killian standing a few steps away, his expression dark and his presence commanding. He was no longer the composed duke she had danced with moments ago. His gaze flicked between Yvette and Dunwick, and when it settled on the latter, it was sharp enough to cut.

Dunwick straightened but didn’t back down.

“Ah, Your Grace,” he said with a mocking smile. “We were just reminiscing. Her Grace and I have a bit of history, you see.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, his arm sliding around Yvette’s waist in a possessive gesture that made her heart skip a beat.

“I am well aware of yer… history,” he said, his voice low and cold. “And I trust you’ll keep your distance from my wife.”

Dunwick raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Killian’s protective stance. “No offense meant, Your Grace. I was merely offering my regards.”

“They are neither required nor welcome,” Killian replied bluntly, his grip on Yvette tightening. “I suggest ye find someone else to torment with yer so-called regards.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, and for a moment, Yvette feared it might escalate further. But then Dunwick froze and raised his hands in surrender.

“Very well, Your Grace,” he said smoothly. “I meant no harm. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He turned to Yvette and inclined his head. “Your Grace.”

With that, he strolled away, his smirk still firmly in place.

As soon as he was gone, Yvette let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Killian turned to her, his expression softening slightly as he looked at her. “You shouldn’t have to deal with the likes of him,” he said, his voice still tinged with anger. “If he bothers ye again, ye must tell me immediately.”

Yvette nodded, her heart still racing. “I will.”

Killian studied her for a moment longer before nodding.

“Good.” He hesitated, then added, “Are ye all right?”

“I am now,” she admitted, managing a small smile.

He didn’t return it, but the way his arm remained firmly around her waist as he led her back toward Fiona and Edward spoke volumes.

CHAPTER 25

The ride back to Oakbourne townhouse was quiet but thick with unspoken tension. Killian sat across from Yvette, his eyes occasionally darting to her before he quickly averted them.

Fiona, seated beside her, hummed softly to herself, entirely unaware of the storm brewing between the married couple.

Killian gripped the armrest of his seat, his knuckles white with restraint.

She was utterly radiant tonight. The crimson gown she’d worn clung to her curves in all the ways that teased his sanity, the delicate embroidery glittering in the moonlight as if she were made of starlight itself. Her hair had been styled to perfection, but it was the flush on her cheeks and the fire in her eyes during their dance that had utterly undone him.

Now, trapped in the small confines of the carriage, the scent of her perfume lingered in the air, wrapping around him like a siren’s call. He wanted her—no, he needed her.

But Fiona’s presence was a chain that bound him.

As though feeling his gaze upon her, Yvette clenched her hands in her lap, her eyes darting to him and away from him. He smiled.

He couldn’t wait for them to reach the privacy of Oakbourne townhouse.

The moment the carriage stopped, Yvette nearly stumbled out, as though in a haste to escape the tension. She nodded her goodnight to Fiona and turned to head toward her room. She had barely closed the door behind her when it swung open again.

“Killian!”