Page 34 of Taken By the Exiled Laird

And worse, a lie she had told herself.

Time passed. The world outside brightened as morning turned to noon, then started to darken again as the day slipped toward night. A few times, knocks came at the cabin door, but Briana ignored them. She lay there and stared, unable to even cry, feeling used and empty and stupid. Perhaps they were right. She was never more than an idiotic daughter of a laird, led along like a fool, only ever meant to serve men in their games.

The sun had set by the time she heard the sounds of Keir and Theon returning to the camp. The voices of three of the men mingled together, but Briana did not move to look to see what they were doing. She did not care. She had nothing left in her to care. The only one she could not hear was Theon, and she soon knew why as the door to the cabin opened.

He entered, his voice cheerful. "Why are ye layin' here in the dark? Ye're nae sleepin' so early, are ye?" he asked. He lit a candle as he spoke. "Ye should have seen Keir on the hunt. He was like a wee lad again." Laughing, he peeled the shirt from his chest. "We nearly⁠—"

"Was this yer plan?" she asked.

She barely recognized her own voice. It sounded cold. Dead.

He paused and faced her, still holding his shirt in his hands. "Eh?"

She sat up, then stood. "I ken I'm a fool, but did ye need tae mock me for it? Did ye need tae use me, play with me, and make me an object of ridicule?"

Theon's brow furrowed. He lowered the shirt and stepped closer with the same wariness with which he would approach the target of a hunt. "What are ye sayin'?"

Briana stepped back from him, moving away from the bed and toward the door. "Did ye laugh while ye seduced me, Theon? Did it excite ye tae think how much it would anger me father tae ruin me? Did ye feel smug tae think how ye'd injure Laird MacFarlane by cuckoldin' his son? Is that yer revenge, Theon MacKenzie?"

"Briana, what are ye talkin' about?" he demanded. He tried to move closer again, but she stepped away. "What are ye even sayin'?"

Fury boiled within her. He thought so little of her that he'd deny it even now? Was that really how stupid she'd been to think—to hope—to believe that this could ever be something else?

"I ken about yer ransom plan!" she snarled. "I ken why ye took me tae that village. I ken what yer goal is." Her whole body felt like it was burning as her voice raised. "I kent from the start ye'd use me tae get yer home back, but what I dinnae understand is why ye had tae use me as ye have. I thought… I hoped… I believed ye. But ye're as cruel as any of them! Ye're exactly the traitorous villain I kent ye were, the one ye've managed so well tae turn me attention from all this time. Returnin' me wasnae punishment enough. Ye had tae take me heart and crush it beneath yer feet. Ye had tae seduce me and make me feel for just a second that I might be loved before ye ruined me." She turned her back on him. "Ye really are a monster."

She heard him step closer. Felt his fingers brush her arm. Heard the entreaty in his voice as he said, "Briana, wait, I⁠—"

Yanking her arm away, she whirled to face her one more time. "Dinnae touch me. Dinnae ever touch me. I warned ye before, but God kens I mean it now. Stay away from me."

With those words, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her, and rushed across the clearing. Graeme's voice called after her, and after a moment so did Noah's, but she ignored them, rushing into the woods, refusing to stop, racing as hard as she could.

She had been right the first night when she had tried to flee.

This time, they wouldn't stop her.

Chapter Fifteen

Briana stopped running when her emotions overcame her, and now, alone, she didn't try to prevent the tears from falling.

She had no idea where she was going, just as she hadn't known the first time she'd run alone through these woods, but she no longer cared. She felt like she'd left the last spark of her soul behind her in that little camp. She was a candle that had hopefully flickered for all these years, the tiniest flame burning despite the cruel storm battering it, but at long last the wind and rain had snuffed it out. She sobbed, pushing branches aside out of her way but not particularly caring when they snapped back and hit her arms or scratched her skin. What did a bruise or a cut matter now? What did any of it matter now?

She stumbled as her dress caught on a thorn, almost falling flat to the ground. She turned to tease it gently free, but as the moonlight hit the green fabric, her stomach roiled with nausea. She remembered the look on Theon's face when he'd held out the dress in the moonlight, the soft, almost anxious way he'd presented it to her. She'd felt adored then. Loved. What a fool she had been.

With a strangled sob, she yanked the material hard, tearing the skirt and leaving a piece of fabric hanging on the thorn behind her.

Rain fell, not cold but heavy, the kind of punishing rain that promised to flatten the world into the ground. With no cloak, Briana would soon be chilled to the bone. A tiny part of her urged her to turn back, but what would she turn to? She could barely see through her tears and the rain, but she kept pushing forward, stumbling through the bramble.

Her father's voice floated to the forefront of her mind, thundering along with the clouds above.

"Yer mother may have coddled ye, but ye'll have none of it from me. Ye'll ken yer place here. Speak without bein' spoken to once more, and it'll be more than a slap ye suffer."

Briana sniffed, wiping her eyes with her soaked sleeve, achieving nothing. Her cheek burned with the phantom pain of that first slap, the first time her father had hit her so hard that it had sent her sprawling to the ground. It had barely been anything compared to what she'd faced later, but that bruise remained in her memory as the worst, a mark of humiliation and pain tattooed permanently onto her soul. She'd learned her place quickly after that—her role as a woman in the castle, a daughter of a laird, a material good to be bought and sold.

She choked on her next breath, fighting the urge to collapse into the mud and let the rain wash her away. Briana knew that she was escaping to nowhere, but she also knew that if she stopped, it would all be over. Would it matter if she did? Was there anything left to fight for?

Her brother's cold expression swam into her mind, a vivid memory of the last time she had sought out his comfort—the moment she'd realized that he had nothing left for her but scorn.

"Noah Black is dead. What use will cryin' over it do? Better this way, anyway; ye spent too much time with the man. Ye've been a fool. How would Father find ye a match if everyone thought ye a whore?"