Page 23 of The Noldrin Witch

She sprinted with such energy that she soon closed the distance. The power of the potion made her feel as though she were flying, barely grazing the cobblestones. She could have continued the chase a while longer. Thankfully, a watchman caught her calls and tackled the pickpocket to the ground.

Elise’s good judgment was briefly outpaced by her vigor, and when she came upon the man who had forced her into a run, she greeted him with a firm slap that relieved him of a tooth.

The smack had been enough to put the offender to rest, and for a moment she felt almost inclined to offer an apology, though she restrained herself as the city watch looked on with some confusion.

People gathered all around the tumult. The commotion was such that a woman nearly fainted, and three men came to support her considerable frame. Elise, now calmer and amused by the efforts of the men trying to keep the unresponsive woman upright, turned to thank the watch.

The watchman only needed one close look at Elise to dismiss any wrongdoing on her part. He leaned low and offered a respectful nod before he could even begin to make sense of the situation.

Elise was about to leave when a coach drew suddenly to a halt, parting the crowd and lending further interest to the already heated affair. She composed her dress and hair as best she could, for the coach appeared to belong to someone of very high rank.

When the door eased open, Elise felt her heart falter and her cheeks grow warm.

The duke.

It was the man who had helped her enter the city. He seemed even more handsome than Elise remembered. His strong frame and striking features drew a few quiet gasps from the crowd. Even the indisposed woman rose at his presence. And who could blame her? The man looked the very personification of temptation as he stepped down from the coach with the effortless bearing of a royal.

Elise considered breaking into a run again, but the crowd was so tightly packed that the option quickly became impractical. Regrettably, she stayed where she was.

“You?” the duke whispered, and Elise felt she might very well die. First, he had seen her in her most ragged clothes, and now in this dress.

“Your Grace.” Elise bowed.

She could feel his eyes still on her, but thankfully the watch chose that moment to intervene and inform him of the successful capture of a thief.

The watchman did not trouble himself with particulars, and the duke seemed to form his own conclusions after another glance at Elise and then at the man lying on the street.

She assumed he would think she had only just arrived in the city to create trouble and might recommend she reconsider her stay, but to her good fortune, the duke’s judgment turned out kinder than she had expected.

“Allow me to see you home,” he said dryly, stealing a few passing looks at her dress.

Elise swallowed hard, but she held herself still.

She looked down to where the duke’s deep blue eyes might have fallen. He was at least two heads taller than she was, yet his attention had settled much lower than her face. She found the uneven rise of her breath. Elise’s bosom was still flushed from the exertion of the chase, and if it had already been on display, now it seemed the fabric had surrendered a touch more than intended. Her cheeks warmed at the realization of the duke’s interest.

He seemed no less disturbed, for he found a sudden interest in the arrangement of his sleeves.

“I’ll do just fine on my own,” Elise said firmly.

“It would be no trouble for me,” he insisted.

“If you think that because I’m wearing this dress I’m some sort of—”

The handsome man froze, swallowing thickly as Elise prepared to defend her honor when an unexpected interruption cut her short.

“Kurt, what is all this?” a woman called, peering out from the coach.

Elise didn’t know what to say. She had first thought the duke wanted something improper, but seeing he had company, she was no longer sure.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m already late,” Elise managed to say.

The duke hesitated. For a moment, it seemed to Elise that he held himself back from reaching for her arm, but his companion made sure to prevent any closer contact.

The woman in question hurried out of the carriage and beside the duke with an air one might reserve for reclaiming lost property. She looked as though she were heading to her betrothal. The woman was no older than twenty. Her dress alone spoke of no lack of coin. Gold thread glimmered in every seam. The piping of the bodice seemed made of the very metal, and the deep red of the skirt and sleeves only accentuated the fine features of her face. She was blonde, her hair drawn into a tight bun that struck Elise as a faithful reflection of her character.

The woman wasted no time confirming Elise’s suspicions. She gave her a slow look from head to toe, conducting a careful inspection and leaving little doubt as to her dislike for Elise.

“Come on, Kurt,” she said.