The Wedding Pact (Marriage by Fairytale Book 3) Page 3

  Her determination renewed, she wiggled her way onto the window ledge. The vines were within an arm’s reach. She could do this. She glanced at the ground. If she fell, she might break an arm or leg. She took a deep breath. She’d have to be careful.

  Pushing her cloak away from her legs, she reached out and pushed through the vines until she felt the trellis. She clasped her hand around one of the holes in it. Once she was assured her hold was secure, she swung her leg over to it. After a moment, her foot slipped into one of the holes.

  In the next instant, she leapt out of the window. After a couple of seconds, she managed to secure her footing on the trellis. The structure wasn’t as stable as she’d hoped. The thing swung a bit.

  She’d have to be careful. Any hasty movement might cause it to lose its strength. She waited until her heart wasn’t beating quite so fast then started making her way down the thing. The process took longer than she wished, but she only had one chance of escape. If anyone caught her, she would be doomed to spend the rest of her life married to someone who made her skin crawl.

  Thankfully, she made her way to the ground without incident. She stepped into the shadows of the vines for a minute as she took in her surroundings. It was easier to make out the things around her now. And as she had thought, everyone was inside. She glanced over at the nearest window on the first floor of the manor. That was the den. The light was on, but the drapes were pulled shut. She didn’t think any of the servants would be looking out the windows toward the stables this time of night, but she had to be careful.

  She gripped the cloak and pulled it closely around her. It was now or never.

  She ran for the stables as fast as she could go. She didn’t look behind her. She didn’t look to her right or to her left. She just stared straight ahead and kept going. The sooner she got there, the better her chances were of getting away with this.

  By the time she made it, her lungs were burning from exertion. She collapsed against the inside of the stable doorway and gasped for air. She’d made it.

  Or, at least she thought she did.

  She forced her body forward so that she could see what was happening outside. There weren’t any signs that someone had caught her. No one was leaving the manor. No one was calling out her name. No one had parted any drapes or opened any windows. The only noise she heard was the neighing of the horses.

  Relieved, she fell back against the wall. Good. She’d made it. She was almost free. All she had to do was saddle her horse and get out of here. There was just enough moonlight for her to make out where everything was in the stable.

  Encouraged, she hurried to saddle up her horse. She hadn’t been able to do this task before, but she’d watched the stable master get her horse ready many times over the years. She didn’t know if Lord Wolfe had counted on that. He hadn’t allowed her to learn how to read, nor was he ever going to. He’d insisted she didn’t need to know how to do it, but she suspected not knowing how to read was something that could potentially hinder her from being able to take care of herself.

  It all added up when she thought about it. Everything in her life had been carefully structured. It must have made her easier to control. If she’d learned nothing else today, it was that he had every intention of controlling her. He wasn’t giving her a choice in anything. She was just lucky he hadn’t forced her to go further with him while he was groping her.

  She shivered then quickened her efforts to get the horse ready for her escape. She might not know much, but she wasn’t stupid. Everything in her was screaming at her to get as far from him as possible, and she was going to obey that prompting.

  She got up on the horse. Her gown went all the way up to her knees. She tucked her cloak around her legs the best she could to keep them covered. Once she was assured her modesty was intact, she urged the horse to the open doors of the stable. She pulled back the reins and waited for a long moment. When she was assured that no one was watching her, she dug her heels into the sides of the horse and bolted out of the stables and away from the manor.

  ***

  Vicar Julian Roskin woke from his sleep. He wasn’t sure what had disturbed him at first since everything was quiet. But then he heard a horse neighing as it ran past the parsonage.

  He bolted out of bed and hurried to put on his slippers and his robe. Then he ran out of the small bedroom and to the front door. He swung it open. No one was at the door. In the moonlight, he saw a horse trotting away from the parsonage. He tried to make out if there was a rider on the steed. After a moment, he realized no one was on it.

  As the animal ran past the trees surrounding the parsonage, he turned his attention to the person who might have fallen off of it. “Hello?” he called out. “Is someone out there?”

  No one called out in response, but he heard a twig snap to his left. His gaze went in the direction of the sound, and he saw someone trying to scramble to his feet. The cloak was wrapped around him, and after a moment, he stumbled forward and collapsed next to a tree.

  Without thinking, he hurried over to the person. “Let me help you up,” he said when he reached him.

  The person recoiled from him as he put his arm around him.

  Julian let him go. “I mean you no harm. I only want to help.”

  The hood of the cloak fell back as the person looked up at him, and Julian jerked back. The person wasn’t a gentleman. It was a lady. And a young one at that. What was she doing out here in the middle of the night?

  Noting the fear on her face, Julian softened his tone. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”

  She took a good look at him before scanning the area. “Which direction did my horse go?”

  He looked to the right but couldn’t find it. “It’s long gone. I can’t see it.”

  She lowered her head, and for a moment, he thought she had started to cry, but when she spoke, her voice was clear of any tears. “I should have slowed down. There are too many trees around here.”

  “Did you run into one of them?”

  She looked up at him. “No, but I got too close to one, and the hood of my cloak snagged onto a tree branch. I couldn’t stop my horse in time.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to come into the parsonage. It’s chilly out. I’ll get you something hot to drink, and you can rest until a relative finds you.”

  She gasped and shook her head. “No. No one must find me.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “Why not?”

  “Because they’ll only take me to my guardian. I can’t go back to him.”

  He blinked in surprise. Whoever her guardian was, he had put a substantial amount of fear into her. He thought about asking her what her guardian had done, but she was leaning against the tree as she struggled to her feet. The moment she let go of the tree, she let out a cry and started to fall.

  Julian caught her before she could land on the ground. “I don’t know what your guardian did, but I’m not him. You can trust me. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  He didn’t know if it was because she believed him or if she realized there was no way she was going to be able to walk on her own, but she relented. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He put his arm around her waist and helped her walk to the parsonage, going slow so as not to add to the injuries she had acquired in the fall.

  “I’ll light a candle once you’re in a chair,” he told her when they reached the threshold of the parsonage.

  Since she didn’t protest, he led her over to a chair and helped her sit down. She let out a sigh of relief, and it was then he realized she was out of breath.

  He closed the front door and hurried to his desk. He struck the match and lit the candle. He carried it over to her. His gaze went to the floor, and he saw that she was bleeding. There was a trail of blood from the door to the chair, and through the slit in the red cloak she was wearing, he noticed the bottom of her yellow gown had blood on it, too.

  “Did your guardian do that to you?” he asked in alarm as he pointed to
the blood.

  “No,” she replied. “It happened when I fell from my horse.”

  He felt a little better knowing this. Not much. But a little. He set the candle down on the table next to the chair. “I’ll get some water and washcloths.” He hesitated to continue, but he didn’t think she was in any shape to clean the wound with the way she was grimacing in pain. “Do you mind if I take care of the injury?”

  A worried frown crossed her pretty face. “How much do you plan to touch me?”

  “I’ll only clean the wound.” Since she didn’t answer, he continued, “Or you can do it yourself if you feel up to it. I don’t care how it gets cleaned. The important thing is that it doesn’t get infected. I don’t want you to get sick.”

  Her expression relaxed as she opened her cloak. The blood was on her right leg, and from the looks of it, the injury was below her knee since that was the only part of her gown covered in blood. She glanced at him then lifted the hem of her gown. There was a gash in her stockings from her mid-calf on down.

  “I’ll get some bandages, too,” he said before he hurried to get the items.

  It took him all of two minutes to gather everything he needed. When he returned to her, he saw that she had removed her stocking. The cut in her leg wasn’t too deep, but it looked painful. If he had to guess, she fell right on top of a tree root when she fell off the horse.

  He brought up an ottoman and placed it in front of her. “Do you want to clean the wound, or do you want me to do it?”

  She took a long moment to answer. He could tell she was debating which option to choose, and it made him wonder what had happened to make her distrust people, especially in light of the fact that she was willing to ride a horse in the middle of the night.

  Finally, she said, “The wound would probably get cleaner if you did it.”

  “In that case, I’ll put these here.” He set the items on the floor next to the ottoman. He straightened up. “I’ll return with some water.”

  She watched him as he left the room.

  He pretended not to notice the way her eyes flickered with worry. It was a shame she wasn’t a member of his parish. If she was, she’d trust him. He could only hope her fear in him wouldn’t last long.

  He grabbed the pitcher of water by the basin in his bedroom and returned to the sitting room. She was touching the wound.

  “You shouldn’t do that unless you wash your hands first,” he warned. He smiled to soften his words. “Your hands are dirty.”

  She stopped touching the wound and inspected the dirt through the blood that was on her hand. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “We’ll clean up the wound right away. You’ll be fine. I just don’t want you to do that in the future.” He put the pitcher down then sat on the ottoman. “We’ll clean up your hands when I’m done.” Since she was unusually skittish, he added, “I’m going to lift your leg and put it on my knee.”

  He waited for her to nod before he leaned forward and cupped the unharmed part of her calf in his hand. When he set her ankle on his knee, she clenched the arms of the chair and cried out. He immediately moved his knee so that it was under her knee, thereby relieving the pressure from her ankle. Her hold on the arms relaxed.

  He inspected her ankle. “It doesn’t look broken.” He gently touched it and noted the grimace on her face. Obviously, it was injured. There was no blood. The injury was probably minor, but even so, it would be wise to keep an eye on it. “I have a cane you can use to take the pressure off of your ankle until it’s better. In the meantime, we’ll keep it propped up as much as possible.”

  Careful not to disturb her ankle, he poured water into the bowl then dipped the washcloth into it.

  “The water’s cold,” he said.

  She made eye contact with him, her expression indicating that she wasn’t sure how to respond. She was probably still wary of him.

  “You’re not bleeding as much as before,” he began, using a tone he reserved for people who were crying over a hardship, “but I don’t want to wait until I have hot water to tend to the wound.” He took the washcloth out of the bowl and wrung it out. “The water’s clean.” Just as he brought the cloth to the wound, he added, “This is going to sting.”

  He was careful as he proceeded to clean the wound, but the pain she experienced while he washed the blood and particles of dirt from her wound couldn’t be avoided. She remained tense the entire time. When he was done, he applied the ointment and wrapped the bandages around her leg. She was still bleeding, but it was only a trickle. He hoped the bandages would stop it completely.

  He stood up and gingerly put her leg on the ottoman. “You shouldn’t stay in those bloody clothes. I think I have something you can wear. It’s thick for this time of year, but it’ll cover all of you.” He figured right now she would rather be fully covered instead of comfortable. “I’ll put the nightclothes on the bed.”

  Her eyes widened. “Your bed?”

  “The bed is more comfortable than the settee.” He gestured to the item, which was a couple of feet away. “I’ll sleep there. You can have the bed.”

  “We won’t be sleeping together?”

  It was odd that she needed to ask that since he’d just told her they wouldn’t be. Did someone take advantage of her? Was that why she assumed his motives weren’t honorable? He didn’t know her well enough to ask, so he opted to say, “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I assure you there are gentlemen you can trust and I’m one of them. I won’t ever do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

  Though she nodded, he sensed a part of her was still guarded. Well, he supposed that couldn’t be helped. All he could do was let his actions speak for him.

  He took a look at the blood on the hard floor of the sitting room. “I need to clean this up before it dries. Do you want to stay out here while I do that, or would you like to change into clean clothes? I’ll shut the door of the bedroom so you’ll have your privacy.”

  She glanced at the doorway of the bedroom.

  Realizing how dark it was in there, he added, “I’ll light a candle and put it in there.”

  After a moment, she turned her attention back to him. “I’ll change clothes.” She paused then asked, “Will you help me to the bedroom?”

  “Yes, but let me get a candle in there first.”

  He collected the soiled cloth, ointment, left-over bandages, bowl, and pitcher then carried everything to the small kitchen. He set them on the worktable. He’d worry about these things later. Right now, he suspected the young lady would feel more at ease once she was alone in the bedroom.

  One thing he’d learned in his three years as a vicar was how much pain and suffering there was in this world. Growing up, he’d been sheltered from the harsher realities of life. He had no way of knowing if that young lady had been sheltered as well, but she had the look of someone who’d only recently been exposed to the darker side of humanity.

  He lit up another candle and carried it to his bedroom. When he returned to her, he decided to ask, “Where do you live?”

  She stiffened, the flicker of panic back in her eyes. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Someone might be worried about you. A mother or father?”

  She shook her head.

  “A brother or sister?” he continued.

  She shook her head again. “There’s no one. I’m all alone.”

  “Yes, but you must have come from somewhere.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going back. I’ll crawl out of here before I let you take me back there.”

  Surprised by the adamant tone in her voice, he said, “I’m not going to make you go somewhere you don’t want to be. I was only curious, that’s all.”

  She calmed, though a part of her still seemed guarded as if she was ready to fight him if she must. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “All right. I’ll do as you wish.” He hesitated to approach her, so he asked, “Are you ready to go to the bedroom?”<
br />
  “Yes.”

  He went over to her and slipped his arm around her waist. She put her arm around his neck, and he counted to three before he helped her stand up. She put her weight on her bad ankle and sucked in her breath.

  “Put your leg up,” he said in a soft tone. “Lean on me.”

  She did as he instructed, and he walked her to the bedroom.

  “You’ll have to forgive the mess,” he told her as they went past the dirty clothes he had left on the floor. “I haven’t had time to do my laundry yet. It’s been a busy month.”

  His parents would have been appalled if he’d allowed his dirty clothes to pile up the way he had, but then, he no longer had a maid to wash them. He had to do that himself. Washing took a lot of time from one’s duties, and his work with people was more important. Now, however, he couldn’t help but feel some embarrassment at letting someone else—a young lady no less!—see them. And there was the open door of the armoire, the unmade bed, the three books he had set by the bed that were opened to different pages, the grooming supplies that were scattered on the vanity, and the fact that he hadn’t dusted anything in here in who knew how long. He never let the sitting room or kitchen get this messy, but then, none of his visitors saw this room.

  Doing his best to push aside how appalled she must be by the condition of his bedroom, he took her to the bed and eased her into a sitting position. Then he retrieved one of his nightclothes that he reserved for the winter.

  “This will cover all of you,” he told her. “The material is thick. I won’t be able to see through it.”

  She accepted it. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Glad she no longer seemed to be afraid of him, he added, “I’ll bring in a fresh pitcher of water in case you get thirsty. I’m going to return to the sitting room and clean the floor.” In case she worried he would return to this room, he hurried to say, “I’ll sleep out there.” He went to the top of the armoire and retrieved the extra blanket he had. “If you need anything, call out for me.”