“It felt like she had been struck by something.”
“That’s likely, by the way she jerked, but we won’t know any more until we get a look at her.”
Wet and exhausted from head to toe, I was more than ready to be home. “Did your horse bolt?” I asked, dreading the prospect of walking the last few miles.
“No, I saw him in the trees when we came out of the river. Do you mind sharing a mount?”
I shook my head, secretly thankful.
It was a snug fit in the saddle, and I leaned into Henry, comforted by his warmth and the weight of his hand on my waist while he used the other to guide us home. He felt strong and solid behind me, capable of withstanding any storm that may come our way. With a contented sigh, I closed my eyes and nestled my head into the crook of his shoulder. Being near him had a certain rightness about it, and not, I realized, just for today. In the four weeks since our marriage, he had become a constant in my life, and despite my attempts to limit our time together, I looked forward to seeing him at meals and in the parlor each evening. At nighttime, I’d grown accustomed to his sleeping in the room across from mine, and even though two doors separated us, it would have been intolerably lonely without him nearby. So much in fact, it now surprised me how natural his presence had become in my life.
My shoulders stiffened at the thought and I shifted forward as a chill that had nothing to do with wet clothing ran over me. Henry’s hand tensed on my waist, refusing to ease until I forced myself to relax and settled back against him.
What have I done?
Was it not enough that I owned Henry’s labor? Did I really need to possess his very person as well? My behavior was appalling, but even more, that it taken a near death experience for me to see just how unjust our situation had become.
Henry didn’t rush the horse, which gave me time to mull things over. This had been the second time he’d saved my life, though in both instances it would have been to his advantage to let me die. If he had let the redheaded demon kill me and focused his attention instead on eliminating Dirk Fletcher, there would have been little to stop him from inheriting Brighmor Hall the very day we had been married. Today, if he had hesitated even a minute, I would have drowned, and again Brighmor and all I owned in the world would have been his. In light of how I’d treated him, practically forcing him to serve my own purposes, he had acted most honorably, and I saw only one way to repay him. My lack of courage had stopped me from doing it weeks ago. By the time we reached the front walkway, I’d made up my mind to act regardless of the risk to my personal safety.
He deserves nothing less.
Something pressed unexpectedly against my heart. I frowned and pushed a hand against my chest, which had grown inexplicably tight. Henry swung from the saddle, then turned to help me down. Our eyes met in the flurry of movement, and I caught a glimpse of his deep concern on my way to the ground. Clenching my teeth, I stared hard at the stone walkway. There could be no room for weakness—I must be strong enough to see this through to the end.
It is the right thing to do.
Henry brushed a gentle finger along my cheek. “Why don’t you get into dry clothes while I go see if your horse has returned.”
I nodded, my throat too stiff for words, and walked slowly into the house and up the stairs. Every step weighed heavy from all that had happened and all I still needed to do. Calling Mary to my room, I ordered a bath filled, and then changed into a dressing gown. Evening arrived before I was ready to see Henry. I placed a few things into a cloth bag and crossed the hall to his room.
He responded at once to my knock. “Come in.”
I found him standing by the window, watching the setting sun.
“Do you feel better?” he asked, crossing the room to me.
“Yes, much better. Did you find the horse?”
“Sit first, and we’ll talk about it.”
My body ached from fatigue. I offered no protest as he led me to the chair near the hearth and then took a seat on the footstool.
“Ben and I found her in the woods just beyond the house,” he started. “And you were right. There’s a deep gash in the left breast where she’s been struck.”
“What do you think did it?”
“The best we can figure, it was caused by a rock, probably launched from a sling shot by someone just inside the tree line.”
“So you think it was done purposefully?”
“Oh yes, it was purposeful,” he said, nodding. “But there’s no telling by whom. It might have just been a boy looking to have some fun.” Henry tried to smile reassuringly, though I could tell he didn’t really believe this theory.
“You know, this is the second time you’ve saved my life”