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But Killian couldn’t bring himself to join in their lightheartedness. His thoughts were too heavy, his fears clawing at him like shadows.

Could things truly work out with Yvette?

The question hung in his mind, joined by the echoes of his past. Albina’s death, his mother’s untimely end, and his father’s cutting words about duty and responsibility haunted him still. He could feel the weight of his father’s voice in his chest, telling him he wasn’t enough, that his failures would cost him everything he cherished.

And now, there was Yvette. So vibrant, so full of life and warmth, she brought a light into his world he hadn’t dared to hope for. But that same light terrified him. If he allowed himself to want more with her, to dream of an heir, of building a family, what if he lost her too?

He was not sure he could handle that.

The carriage came to a gentle halt, jolting Killian from his thoughts. Fiona and Yvette stepped out first, their skirts trailing as they moved up the steps of the manor. Killian followed with Maisie still in his arms, her weight a comfort against his stormy thoughts.

He carried her to her room, tucking her under the covers with tenderness. She stirred briefly, her little hand grasping his before falling back into slumber. He brushed a strand of hairfrom her face, the corners of his mouth tugging into a faint smile despite his unease.

When he returned to his chambers, he felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him. Stripping off his jacket and cravat, he sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. But peace eluded him.

A soft knock at the connecting door broke through the quiet. Killian glanced up, his brows furrowing.

“Come in,” he said gruffly.

The door creaked open, and Yvette stepped through. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her figure, and his breath caught when he saw her. She was wearing a silk nightgown that clung to her curves, its delicate fabric leaving little to the imagination. The sight of her, so ethereal and inviting, sent his pulse racing.

“Yvette,” he began, his voice rough, “is something the matter?”

She closed the door behind her, her movements deliberate as she stepped closer.

“I came for you,” she said, her voice low and sultry.

Killian stood abruptly, turning away from her as he cleared his throat.

“Wife, ye should not be here.”

But Yvette was undeterred. She moved closer, her bare feet silent on the carpet.

“Why not? I’ve been thinking about what Maisie said today,” she murmured. “About us trying for an heir.”

His back stiffened.

Yvette continued, her tone teasing as she ran her fingers lightly along his sleeve.

“Perhaps she’s right. Perhaps we should.”

Killian turned to face her, his expression conflicted.

“Yvette, ye?—”

Before he could finish, she reached up, brushing her lips against his. The softness of her touch was intoxicating, and for a moment, he found himself leaning into her warmth. But then he pulled away, stepping back as though burned.

Yvette blinked, startled by his reaction.

“Killian?” she said, her voice laced with confusion.

He didn’t meet her gaze, his hands clenching at his sides.

“Ye should go back to yer room.”

Her brows furrowed. “Why? What is the matter?”

He sighed, his voice strained.