Page 23 of Taken By the Exiled Laird

She scowled and kept her head to the front, biting back the acerbic response that sprung to her tongue. She would not give him the dignity of even that response. She glared ahead, her eyes fixed on the horse's mane and the road ahead, her body stiff with the effort of ignoring him.

They reached the bottom of the hill, and Theon's hands on the reins made a sudden but light movement that she caught from the corner of her eye. He lightly pulled, making the horse rear ever so slightly and startling Briana from her spot.

She gasped and fell backward, unable to hold her position, her back collapsing against his chest. He grunted slightly at the impact, and the heat of his body pressed against hers consumed her instantly, enough that she was too surprised to pull away.

"There, is that nae more comfortable?" Theon teased, and one of his hands released the reins to wrap his arm securely around her waist. "Stop bein' so daft."

She could hear the smile in his voice now—a real one, not a smirk—and despite her annoyance, it made her own lips twitch too. When she caught her own smile growing, though, she quickly caught it and turned it back into a scowl, though she didn't pull away. She tried not to notice how comfortable she was against him or how well they seemed to fit together and instead focused on her annoyance that he'd dragged her here at all.

Soon, they arrived at the edge of a small village, and Theon helped Briana down from the horse. She allowed his help without protest, but she refused to meet his eyes or acknowledge him in any other way. Theon winked at her and she quickly looked away, which only made him laugh. He held out his arm, and, after considering her options, she took it.

"This is ridiculous," she told him, her hand resting very lightly on his muscular arm, making as little contact with his bare skin there as she could. "Why are we here? We should go back. Ye were out of line with Noah. I⁠—"

"Hush," Theon told her.

The tone was pleasant, but there was an undercurrent to it that made her mouth snap closed. Briana knew a warning when she heard it. She remained silent as Theon used his other hand to lead the horse toward a hitching post. He paid one of the local stableboys to feed, water, and brush the animal, then led Briana deeper into the village.

As they walked, Briana's blood turned cold. The symbol of the MacFarlane Clan hung from banners all around them and shone emblazoned on crests and kilts, even carved into posts. The symbol of the man who was still, technically, her betrothed. The symbol that would have been hers had she been successful in the marriage that would have let her leave the Cameron name behind. Her emotions flared and combined in a tight, confusing ball, clustering in her stomach as a heavy weight.

"What are we doin' here?" she asked again after they'd wandered deeper into the village. They stopped beside an abandoned market stall. She pulled her arm away, and he did not stop her. "What⁠—"

Instead of answering her question, he gave another order in a low, firm tone. "Ye neednae hold me arm if it bothers ye so much, but ye will stay close and stay alert. While we are here, for all intents and purposes, we are newlyweds. Ye are me blushing, happy bride."

The tangled feelings reared up inside her more aggressively than the horse had, almost violent in their reaction to the words. "I would never be yer bride," she hissed. "And ye have nae power over me. I⁠—"

In one quick motion, his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. She let out a yelp which was stolen away by the wind as he crushed her against his side. Leaning down to whisper, looking to all the world like an affectionate husband, he spoke to her in a deep, warning tone. "Remember where we are. Remember who we are."

Briana swallowed and nodded. Theon gazed down at her with a burning intensity for a moment before he at last relaxed his grip, though he did not release her. In front of her, a MacFarlane banner fluttered in the wind.

"Where shall we go, husband?" she asked in a strained voice.

Theon smiled coldly. Briana pressed her lips together in an attempt at a smile, though the weight on her stomach grew even heavier. Theon knew it as well as she did—that she had no choice but to obey.

Chapter Ten

There was something wrong in this village.

As Briana and Theon walked through the main road of the place, she expected to see children playing, people laughing or shouting or debating, women washing clothes and men arranging deals. But there was none of that here in this small border village. She had assumed that the market stall she had seen abandoned would be an exception, but the village's central marketplace was full of empty stalls, and the few that were occupied had very few wares to sell. The sellers didn't call out, and nobody raised any eyes toward the newcomers that wandered through the town.

"Where are the children?" Briana asked.

Theon didn't answer, but he didn't have to. Her eyes found them soon enough, but they were not playing or running around between the buildings. They worked or walked alongside the adults, almost indistinguishable but for their height, their gaunt features making them older than their years. Villagers of all ages moved slowly in dull roughspun gray and brown clothing, most of it torn and threadbare and unsuitable for the chill of the Highland winds. Their shoulders were bent, their spirits crushed, and their interest in the world gone. There was no joy, no excitement, no life.

Theon's smirk had vanished. He led Briana through the empty market and through to the main square of the village, where tattered banners bleached of color fluttered in the wind like ghostly monuments to the festivals that had once flourished here. An old washerwoman sat at the foot of a large tree, mechanically washing piles of rags, her hands blistered and red from the work.

The buildings around them were damaged, lacking windows or even doors, and those that had once been shops were mostly shuttered or entirely abandoned. Theon held his head high and did not look at Briana, continuing to maneuver her through it all without speaking.

As they passed the washerwoman, Briana could not help herself. She pulled away from Theon, hurrying to the woman's side and said, "Ma'am, excuse me, but yer hands—ye cannae keep workin' with them in such a state. A simple poultice and some bandages will prevent infection."

To her surprise, Theon did not intervene. He stood back a little, keeping her in his sights, but otherwise simply watched. The woman looked up with an expression of incredulity, and Briana's heart sank as she realized this was not an old washerwoman at all. The woman could not have been more than forty, but the exhaustion and hunger that echoed from her made her look twice that age.

"A poultice? Where would I get such a thing?" the woman asked. "Are ye mad?"

Briana blinked. "Surely ye have a local healer or even a herbalist. Anyone who kens how tae work with⁠—"

She laughed, continuing her work, though there was no humor in the laughter. Bitterness flooded her tone as she said, "Dinnae jest with me, now. Anyone with such knowledge has long since fled Clowg." Her voice was strained and it was hard to hear, but Briana thought she had caught the name of the village. "They had tae. It isnae like there's coin tae be made here."

"But—"