That was his thought as the ax came swinging down over the two women.
This is my punishment for hurting Belle and not telling her how I feel, telling her that she owns my heart.
Instead of coming to her rescue, of being able to prove his love to her with action, he was doomed to witness her death.
By some mercy, perhaps in answer to his own prayers, or simply because the Lord above loved Belle as much as Henry did, fate intervened.
An arrow, aimed or not Henry did not know, soared through the air and struck Belle's would-be murderer hard in the knee. Losing his balance, the soldier fell to one side, and his ax swung wide. The blade came down and buried itself three inches into the earth. Just a breath from Belle's foot.
Gibberish poured from Henry's mouth, fueled by a shaky relief. He might have thanked the Lord in heaven, he might have thanked his own horse, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he was thankful.
As if to mark the occasion, a horn suddenly blew from a far-off corner of the estate. Another, rising somewhere behind Henry, joined the call. By the time a third was sounded, most of the soldiers had lowered their weapons. Those that bore the Henderson coat of arms kept their blades in hand, while those in Hunter colors had unceremoniously dropped their weapons to the ground. The clatter of lowered armaments rang out across the grounds, and Henry realized what had happened.
The horns were a call of death. Death of a leader. They were the call to cease fighting, for their reason for combat had been lost.
Henry wasn't entirely sure if the man he was awkwardly holding upright was still alive or not, but given Alasdair Henderson was here with him and not on the end of someone's spear, he could only assume that Murdock Hunter was dead.
As everyone realized the fight to be over, soldiers turned their sights to helping over hindering. Several, dressed in the household livery of the castle, ran over to aid Henry with their laird. Those who were not leading away enemy fighters rushed for servants or household staff who had been hiding or injured.
By the time Henry had stumbled and limped his way to Belle, she and Coira were already surrounded by loyal soldiers, seeking to ensure the health of their future ruler.
He didn't care.
If he had to fight them all away with only his abacus, he would reach his woman.
"Move!" he called, pushing at a shoulder and shoving at an arm. "Move! I need to—"
As soon as he saw Belle, her face lit up from the inside out.
"Henry!"
That one word parted the soldiers like the Red Sea, and the next thing Henry knew, he was being charged down by the love of his life. Elegance was forgotten, dignity was discarded, and etiquette could go hang. Belle rushed him with an eagerness not to be denied and dived into his arms with enough force to level a cart horse.
"Oomph!"
Henry's feet lost their purchase, his balance was shot to all hell, and a moment later, he was hitting the ground with enough of a thump that he was seeing stars. Belle was atop him, sitting on his belly and desperately trying to embrace him.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Oh, Henry, ye're here!"
Coughing up half a lung, Henry didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. His leg burned with pain, his head was now pounding, and all the wind had been knocked out of him.
But he honestly and truly did not care.
He had Belle.
And that was all that mattered.
Reaching a hand to the nape of her neck and pulling her down, Henry's first instinct was to kiss her, to claim her as his own before all these witnesses. Only then could he be assured that no one else would covet what was his and try to claim her hand.
Instead, he held her face an inch from his. He stared into her eyes, stroked her cheek, and made certain that she was listening before he said:
"I love you.
"I love you, Belle Fisher. And I refuse to let etiquette or expectation rule me again. I don't care about your reputation. I don't care for mine. Our difference of status can go hang. I am not a noble, I am not a Laird. Laird Anderson adopted me, me and my sister Laura. I was ashamed of my past, but you’ve made me forget about these things. This is what I was trying to tell you, but you’ve never let me explain Belle, but these things don’t matter. I’m sorry for not being true to you. I lied to you. I’ve placed my career above you, but now I know that these things don’t matter. Our homes being apart is of no moment. Right here and right now, I commit myself to you. I will love you and only you forever. And I want you for my wife."
They were the words he had practiced over and again. They had accompanied him up through the Lowlands in pursuit of the Hunter militia as he had rushed at the head of an army. They had spurred him into the estate as he led the Anderson regiment of fighting men. They had rung in his head every step he climbed through the castle, determined to find Belle's father so that he could live to see them wed.
For a moment, he had feared that he would not have the chance to speak those words out loud.
