Elise by Jackie Ivie

chamber. She didn’t think beyond her objective, and she didn’t question why. She had to get to Daisy.
    She knew where the servant’s quarters were, although she’d never been there. The hall was empty and frighteningly dim, with soft, yellowish light glowing slightly from each oil globe. Elise stumbled once, and then forced her body to hold the shock inside where it wouldn’t show. She wasn’t going to be able to save herself if she gave into hysterics. She took a deep breath and ran to the door leading to the stairs that the servants used. She opened it.
    Then a large body was there, blocking her, and arms wrapped about her torso as she was lifted. Elise was struggling and pummeling again, and for the same reason.
    “Stop that, Madame! Stop!”
    A door was kicked open, and Elise was shoved into the light of an unfamiliar bedchamber and lowered onto her feet, although he kept her locked in his arms. Elise’s heart was beating so loudly and in such a disjointed rhythm, it was hampering her own breathing.
    “What the devil is this?”
    Elise’s heart ceased pounding and felt like it moved to lodge in her throat as she recognized MacGowan’s voice.
    “I caught her running the halls. In this.”
    “Just this?”
    Elise forced herself to turn her head. The duke hadn’t been sleeping. He’d been sitting, contemplating a deck of spread cards, and he was wearing a red, green, and black plaid robe that actually reached the floor when he stood, knocking over his chair.
    Then he was looming, all towering strength and anger. Elise actually hugged into the man still holding her.
    “What have you got to say for yourself?” he asked in an ugly tone.
    Elise turned around.
    “What the hell?” he burst out.
    “I—” Elise opened her mouth, but little more than that came out.
    “What happened?” He was asking the man holding her.
    “I told you, Your Grace. I caught her at the servants’ stair, like this.”
    “You’re both covered in blood. Explain. Now!”
    “I did as you said. I watched. She was out, like you said she might be. I caught her.”
    “Then, whose blood—?”
    “Roald,” Elise answered, interrupting them as they just got louder and louder, with angry words that seemed to swirl above her head.
    “Easton?” He lowered his head and asked it, and nothing about him was soft or caring, or anything other than intense and brutal and frightening.
    She nodded. She didn’t think her voice would work.
    “What happened? Quickly! I can na’ do something about it if you doona’ tell me.”
    “I—” Elise stopped; a sob stilled her voice as trembling overtook her for a moment. She watched his face harden further. “I...I have killed him. Dearest God ... I’ve killed him.”
    “What? Why?”
    She watched him shove the robe off, imprinting a large, extremely defined masculine span of chest and belly onto her eyes, and then he was shoving his arms into a black coat. Then he was covering the whole with a black cape and lifting the hood to shadow his features. Elise wondered stupidly, if he was trying to disguise himself. It wasn’t going to work if he was. There wasn’t another on the estate his size.
    “Where is he?”
    Fresh tears obliterated everything for a moment, then they cleared as she blinked them into existence down her cheeks. His features may as well be carved from stone, she thought.
    “Well?”
    She was surprised at herself, and for good reason. She hadn’t been so naive since she’d been sold into wedlock. Surely an attack like Sir Roald had perpetuated was reason enough to defend herself. What had she been thinking to run as she had?
    She willed strength into her legs, but they just shook more as she tried to stand upright. Everything wavered for a moment, then cleared. It was as crystal clear as everything had been since she’d met him.
    “He’s ... in my chamber. In—in my bed.”
    That reply got her MacGowan’s enlarged nostrils, heavier breathing, and a snarl, too. Elise