The Marriage Contract

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  The footsteps grew louder until Stephen saw a pair of men’s boots in the doorway. Stephen’s gaze went higher, but the man came into the room before could get a look at his face. All he knew was that his servants didn’t wear boots like that. This had to be Symon.

  The man turned around and left the room, keeping his steps soft as he proceeded down the hallway.

  Stephen released his breath, unaware until now that he’d been holding it. He slipped the mask back on then quietly got out from under the table.

  He removed his shoes so he wouldn’t make any noise as he walked to the doorway. Stephen saw the back of the intruder. He was a large man, or at least the cloak he wore made him seem large. And in his hand, he carried a sword.

  Stephen swallowed. No one carried a sword into a person’s residence unless they wanted to kill someone. Stephen’s knife wouldn’t do him any good.

  Stephen hurried to put the knife down. Making sure the man was still going down the hallway, he rushed in the opposite direction. He made his way to the den. On the way to the room, he passed one of his maids who was slumped over in a deep sleep, just like the butler and Lewis were.

  Ignoring her, he went into the den and grabbed the sword he had on display on his wall. It’d been a gift from his father. It hadn’t been the same sword Stephen had used in fencing. That sword had been much thinner. This one was heavier. It was meant for combat, but Stephen had never used it. Well, he would have to use it tonight.

  He slipped his shoes back on then left the den. He went in the direction the man had gone, keeping his steps as soft as possible. He glanced behind him, just to make sure no one was there.

  There wasn’t.

  Taking a deep breath, he gripped his sword and proceeded down the hall. He passed the dining room. Lewis and the butler were still asleep. He had no way of knowing what the gypsy and the man—Symon—had given Lewis and the servants to make them sleep, and since he didn’t know, he could only guess how long they’d stay asleep. Whatever the gypsy and Symon had planned, they probably intended to be quick about it.

  On his way past the drawing room, he checked the doorknob to make sure it was still locked. Good. It was. And better yet, Patricia was being quiet. He hoped Susanna wouldn’t cry. It wouldn’t do well to give away their location. Even with the windows and doors locked, he’d rather no one found them.

  He heard a movement from the stairs and spun around. He crept further down the hall and caught the intruder climbing the staircase that led to the bedchambers.

  Pushing aside the fact that his heartbeat had picked up significantly, he followed after the man. The maid hadn’t had time to light all of the candles, but there were a couple lit, which cast shadows along the way. Not enough shadows though. If the man looked back, he’d see Stephen.

  To make sure there was still no one behind him, Stephen glanced back. Good. No one.

  Releasing his breath, he turned his gaze forward and snuck up the steps. The man didn’t seem to be in any hurry, and Stephen couldn’t tell if that was because the man relished the thought of killing someone or if the man was being overly cautious. Either way, Stephen had to protect Patricia and Susanna, so he quickened his pace to catch up to him.

  Just as the man reached the top of the staircase, he spun around. Stephen managed to lift his sword right before the man brought his down, thereby blocking the man’s attack. Realizing he was in a vulnerable position by being on the steps, Stephen swung the sword in an offensive maneuver. The man backed up, and that was when Stephen got a good look at him. He’d never seen the man before, but since he looked to be as old as Patricia said Symon was, then it had to be Symon.

  Stephen bounded up the last couple of steps so that he was in the hall with Symon. Symon swung his sword at Stephen, and Stephen managed to block him again. Symon growled and advanced toward Stephen. Stephen sidestepped around him so that he wouldn’t end up near the stairs.

  He was sure Symon would like to send him hurdling to his death, much like Eloise had done when she tripped on her gown. But Stephen was determined this wouldn’t be his last night on earth. Not when he had something to live for.

  Stephen swung his sword at Symon, but the man expertly blocked the attack. That was unfortunate because Stephen suddenly realized how skilled Symon was at sword fighting. And Stephen hadn’t fenced since he was seventeen.

  Their swords continued to clang together as they fought. Stephen tried to figure out a way to be in the offensive position, but more often than not, he was in defense. And that made him vulnerable. Whoever was in defense was at a disadvantage.

  The only advantage Stephen had was that he knew the layout of the manor. Inspired, he led Symon down the hall until they reached his bedchamber. Stephen dodged Symon’s sword. Symon stuck his boot out to trip Stephen, and Stephen ended up crashing into the wall.

  Stephen barely lifted his sword in time to stop Symon’s sword from coming down on his head. Stephen quickly steadied his footing and then kicked Symon in the chest. Symon fell back against the door and went tumbling into the bedchamber. Good. Stephen thought he hadn’t shut his door all the way that evening.

  Stephen ran for Symon and tried to strike him with the sword, but Symon brought his sword up, stopping him before the sword could strike him. Symon swung his sword again so fast that Stephen almost missed blocking it.

  Stephen had to think of some other way to beat Symon because he wasn’t a good match for him in sword fighting. As Stephen continued to block Symon’s attacks, he thought over what he could do to defeat him. At the very least, he must be able to do something to knock him out.

  Symon leapt at Stephen, and, on instinct, Stephen fell back, hitting the edge of his bed as he did so. Ignoring the pain in his back, he rolled onto his side, barely missing Symon’s sword as it sunk into his mattress. Stephen hopped to his feet and picked up the porcelain pitcher. He smashed it on Symon’s head, but it didn’t knock him out, as Stephen had hoped. All it did was shatter into many pieces, and the water splashed on Symon’s face.

  Symon lifted his sword from the mattress and pursued Stephen across the room. By this point, Stephen was in real trouble because he was either dodging Symon or barely raising his sword in time to stop Symon from killing him. And worse, he was starting to lose his stamina. Maybe if he had kept his fencing lessons up, he would be better suited for this kind of thing, but he honestly hadn’t thought he’d ever need to use those lessons in real life.

  Stephen caught sight of one of the windows. It was large enough so he could push Symon through it. Better yet, the drapes were parted.

  Stephen flung a chair in front of Symon, but Symon jumped over it. Just his luck. Symon was good with a sword, and he was limber. Stephen blocked another attack with his sword. Then he darted behind the armoire and, using all of his strength, pushed it forward. The armoire fell forward and hit the floor with a resounding thud.

  The armoire hadn’t knocked Symon down, but it had forced Symon over to the window. Stephen leapt on top of the armoire and swung his sword at Symon. Symon blocked the attack, but Stephen pressed forward, swinging as fast as he could. It was a desperate measure at this point. The strategy could easily backfire on him, but he had to be quick if he was going to distract Symon long enough to get him right up to the window.

  Thankfully, it worked. As Stephen advanced, Symon stepped back. Just as Symon got where Stephen wanted him, Stephen lost his balance and fell on the armoire. Ignoring the pain in his side, he rolled onto his back and kicked Symon in the waist. Then, Stephen quickly swung the sword at him.

  Stephen knew it was a long shot, but the maneuver worked. Symon fell right up against the window. Before Symon could swing his sword and gain the advantage, Stephen kicked him again, and Symon crashed into the window. Stephen put his arms up over his head while shards of glass exploded around him.

  Once he was sure it was safe, he lowered his arms. The quiet night greeted him. The only sound he could hear was his ragged breathing.

&n
bsp; Groaning, he got up from the armoire, careful not to put his hands on any more shards of glass than he had to. He needed to see what happened to Symon. Was he dead? Was he still alive? If he was dead, he’d no longer be a threat. But if he was alive, then Stephen still had to deal with him.

  Stephen leaned out the window. For a moment, he didn’t see Symon in the darkness. But a figure in a cloak moved, and he realized Symon had gotten up from the ground.

  Stephen grunted in disappointment. Leave it to the intruder to be agile as he fell from a window. He had no idea what Symon’s past was like, but apparently, he’d done a lot of physical activities.

  Stephen quickly brushed off shards of glass from his palms then grabbed the sword and ran out of his bedchamber.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Patricia held Susanna, bouncing the girl in her arms so she’d stay quiet. Patricia’s body had been tense ever since Stephen left her alone in the drawing room. She’d heard someone fiddle with the doorknob once. Shortly after that, she thought she heard some movements from upstairs, but for the most part, everything was eerily quiet. She was sure it was the calm before the storm. Right before the storm hit, there was a temporary lull where things seemed peaceful.

  She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on her breathing so she wouldn’t panic. If she gave into the urge to panic, she’d upset Susanna, and if she did that, Susanna would start crying. Then the gypsy would find her.

  Though, the gypsy probably already knew where she was. The gypsy always seemed to know where she was. Ever since she was a child, she hadn’t been able to get away from her.

  Three short knocks came from the door. Stephen was back! Relieved, she hurried to open it.

  But instead of Stephen, she was face to face with the gypsy. She gasped and tried to shut the door, but the woman put her foot in the doorway.

  “You can’t escape the gypsy curse,” the woman hissed. “You’ve run from it, and each and every time, I found you.”

  Patricia kicked at the woman’s foot, but she couldn’t get it out of the doorway. Tears sprang up in her eyes. “Why are you doing this to me? Your curse took my mother and Barnaby away from me. Why wasn’t that enough?”

  “Because you can never be happy. I won’t allow it. You must suffer in the same way your mother made me suffer.”

  “How can one plate of stolen bread and meat make you suffer so much that you spent all of these years tormenting me?”

  Patricia made another effort to kick the woman’s foot out of the doorway as she tried to shut the door, but Susanna started to wiggle out of her grasp. Patricia’s attention immediately went to holding her daughter. And this allowed the woman to get into the room.

  Patricia blinked back her tears as she stepped away from her. “Please, don’t hurt my husband and child.”

  “Don’t hurt your husband? Don’t hurt your child?” The woman advanced toward her, and Patricia retreated further into the room. “What about my husband? What about my child?”

  “I’ve never hurt your husband or your child. I’ve never done anything to you.”

  “Ah, but you have. The sins of the mother affect her children.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You mean your mother didn’t tell you?”

  Patricia took another step away from her. “Tell me what?”

  “That she played the whore with my husband.” The woman tapped her chest. “And she robbed my child of his father. When my husband found out your mother was expecting you, he left me. The two lived together in sin. He was still my husband, but she lived with him as if he was her husband. It wasn’t enough she stole my husband and had his bastard. But she had to steal my food, too.”

  “She didn’t know who the food belonged to. We were just going by a traveling circus.” Even as Patricia said it, she knew the food wasn’t really the issue. The real issue was what her mother had done. “You have to believe me. I had no idea my mother took your husband.”

  “I don’t care what you knew. My son, Symon, has lived most of his life without his father because of you.” She pointed her finger at her. “You will know the pain and heartache I have had to live with all of these years. Every day and every night, I have to go through this life knowing what you and your mother did to rip my family apart. And I will show you what that’s like. Symon and I have gotten rid of your mother, that boy you wanted to marry, and your last husband. Now we have this new husband and the child you care so much about to take from you.”

  The woman’s gaze went to Susanna, and then she lunged for the girl. Screaming, Patricia ran around the settee and dodged the table as the woman pursued her. Patricia felt something brush by her arm. It stung. She didn’t realize the woman had thrown a knife at her until the knife hit the wall in front of her.

  Susanna began crying, but Patricia focused on getting out of the room. She hurried down the hall, calling out for help. But no one came to her aid. So she kept on running, not bothering to look behind her. She couldn’t do it. Yes, there was a vindictive woman pursuing her, but she couldn’t look back to see if she was catching up to her. As long as she had her back to the woman, the woman wouldn’t be able to hurt Susanna. The blood trickling down her arm let Patricia know how serious the woman was about fulfilling the curse she’d put her under all those years ago. The woman hated her.

  Patricia ran into the servants’ quarters, calling out for someone to help her. But no one came out of the rooms. It wasn’t until she almost tripped over a body lying in the dark hallway that she realized why no one came to her aid. They couldn’t. The gypsy and Symon had taken care of them. All she could make out of the figure lying on the floor was the clothes, but she recognized it as the coachman’s uniform. She couldn’t tell if he was dead or not.

  “You can’t escape a gypsy’s curse,” the gypsy called out as she pursued her.

  Gasping, Patricia edged around the coachman’s body and continued running. She made it to the kitchen. The cook was slumped on the floor. Forcing her gaze off of him, she made her way out of the kitchen and slipped into the stairwell. She might have had a chance of losing the gypsy if Susanna wasn’t crying, but since Susanna’s cries only got louder, she had to focus on being fast enough so that the gypsy wouldn’t catch up to them.

  She found a door along the way and opened it. It led outside. And not too far from her was the maze. Of course! The woman wouldn’t know how to navigate the maze. Maybe she could lose her. If she could just keep Susanna quiet once she got there, she just might save her daughter.

  She glanced around. She didn’t see anyone. Where was Stephen? Was he still in the manor? Was he alive? Was he dead?

  Susanna’s cries broke her out of her thoughts. She glanced back and saw the gypsy running toward her. She gasped. She couldn’t worry about Stephen right now. She had to get Susanna to safety. Then, maybe then, she could sneak back into the manor and find him.

  She darted out of the door and ran for the maze. Once there, she’d quiet Susanna down, and then she’d go to the center of it.

  ***

  Holding the sword, Stephen made it to the stables. Symon had gotten on a horse, and he still had the sword. Stephen didn’t know how Symon managed to hold onto the weapon while he fell out of the window and not injure himself, but Symon was just as unharmed as he’d been when they’d been fighting in the bedchamber.

  And that made Symon extremely dangerous.

  Stephen couldn’t outrun a man who was on a horse. He needed to get on one, too. In the light of the lantern, Stephen had enough time to set the bridle and reins on his horse when he heard the sound of Symon’s horse approaching. Stephen got up on his horse. He hadn’t ridden bareback in years. He and Lewis used to do it for sport, but at least he was better at it than he was at fencing. He renewed his grip on the sword. If he had any idea he’d need these old skills tonight, he would have brushed up on them over the years.

  Through the still night came the sound of a baby crying. Patricia and Susan
na!

  He hurried the horse to the entrance of the stables. He didn’t see Patricia until he noticed that Symon had urged his horse to go after her. A curse word Stephen hadn’t used since his gambling days slipped out of his mouth. He needed to intercept Symon before he got to Patricia and Susanna. But he needed a good enough distraction.

  Recalling the lantern, he guided the horse over to it, took it off the hook, and, making sure he had a firm grip on the sword and reins in the same hand, he urged the horse into a full run. He called out Symon’s name and lifted the lantern so he’d be easy to see.

  The ploy worked. Symon stopped chasing after Patricia and turned toward him. Symon glanced between him and Patricia. Patricia was heading for the maze.

  A woman called out to Symon. Stephen couldn’t make out what she was saying, but she pointed to Stephen. Symon snapped the reins on his horse and resumed his pursuit of Stephen. The woman, in turn, hurried after Patricia.

  It wasn’t the ideal setup. Stephen would have preferred it if Patricia and Susanna were still safe in the drawing room, but he’d rather have her up against a gypsy woman than a man as skilled as Symon was.

  Symon headed straight for Stephen, ready to use his sword. Stephen knew he couldn’t fight him while holding the reins, swords, and a lantern, so he steered his horse in the opposite direction of the maze. At the moment, his goal was to get Symon away from Patricia and Susanna. He couldn’t do anything about the gypsy. Not right now. Right now, he had to take care of Symon. Then, if he survived this, he would get to Patricia and Susanna.

  Stephen led the horse into a full run. He glanced back. Symon wasn’t close behind him, but he wasn’t that far behind, either. Stephen scanned his surroundings. He needed a plan. And he needed one fast. He didn’t think he could outrun Symon like Patricia was outrunning the gypsy. If he was going to protect Patricia and Susanna, he needed to outsmart him.