Page 35 of Taken By the Exiled Laird

In a flash, she felt a wall against her back, a hand gripping her thigh, the heat of a body pressed against hers and the passion of a kiss that had captured her heart. A whore, her brother had called her, and yet she'd saved herself for that moment, that singular moment where she'd felt the whole world disappear as her need for Theon overwhelmed her.

She'd believed, in a tiny corner of her heart, that he'd needed her too. She was no whore, no—but she was the fool that her brother had branded her. An unlovable fool, not worth suitors, not worth love, not worth even an escort on the way through enemy territory.

She broke through the branches and saw it before her—the burn where she'd bathed that day, its banks swollen from the storm, the water coursing fiercely in a way that was impossible to cross. It wasn't the same spot; the burn was wider here, too dangerous to step inside, and she must be some distance from the camp. But she remembered that moment, naked and vulnerable, knowing Theon was watching even as he pretended not to. Had that been an act, too? Or had he, even then, just been considering what use she could be?

The world thought her a pampered, spoiled daughter of the laird, but she wasn't that. She wasn't anything. She was an object, a broodmare to be bartered and sold by Cameron, a prize to be won and used by MacFarlane, and a hostage to be traded by the Broken Blades.

Her world was a prison.

Her life was a jail.

There was no way out. There never had been.

At last, Briana's legs gave out. With the rain beating her down and the mud slick beneath her feet, she sank to the ground beside the burn and buried her face in her hands as she wept.

Theon paced back and forth like a caged animal, ignoring the sudden heavy rain, ignoring the preparations that his comrades were making around him. Noah was at the stables, ensuring there was shelter for the horses, for which Theon was glad. The last person he could talk to right now was Noah. Part of him longed to follow Briana, but he held himself back. She didn't want him to follow. She didn't want anything from him. Fine, then. He'd let her go. He couldn't take back what he'd done, but he could give her at least that.

"Could ye stop pacin' and help here?" Keir called over.

Theon glared at his little brother. "The storm will pass in less than fifteen minutes. It's a squall and nothin' more," he grumbled. "Nae point takin' everythin' inside." That said, he resumed his pacing, gritting his teeth together.

Keir swore and jogged over. "Why are ye bein' such a moody bastard?" he demanded. "Is it that lassie again? What has she done now?"

Scowling, Theon snapped, "She kens! She kens about the letters, about the plans—all of it!"

Blinking in confusion and annoyance, Keir threw up his hands. "So? What's yer point? She kent she was yer hostage here. What did she think, because yer eyes cast over her a few times it changed anythin'?"

"Watch yer mouth," Theon warned.

"She's a Cameron. Nae just a Cameron, but Niven Cameron's daughter. Her blood is tainted. Foul," Keir replied, spitting to the side at the word.

Something inside Theon erupted. He saw red and his fist flew toward his brother before he could stop himself. Keir shouted and dodged out of the way, then threw a punch of his own. The two of them fell into a fierce fight, forgoing weapons in favor of raw, human anger, fists flying and fury screaming into the wind. The rain ebbed as they fought, but Theon barely noticed as he channeled his fury through his fight, directing all his rage to Keir, needing any outlet to get it out. Keir, in turn, fought with equal rage, everything pouring from him with every punch.

Noah rushed toward them. "Will the two of ye stop it!" he started, but he was cut off as Graeme came crashing into the clearing on the back of a horse.

"Soldiers!" Graeme shouted, his voice unusually serious. "Cameron men, an hour away. Maybe less. It's time tae move on."

Keir and Theon stopped their fight and Noah ran a hand through his hair. They all knew what that meant—packing up the few necessities they'd had and leaving their homes and other belongings behind, taking only the essentials and the horses as they fled to a new place of safety. Keir's expression crumpled, and for a moment he was the boy that Theon had taken care of all these years.

But rather than comfort him this time, Theon's racing thoughts realized the more pressing problem. "Tell me ye found her," he demanded of Graeme.

Graeme pressed his lips together and shook his head. He'd promised he'd keep an eye out for Briana when he set out on his patrol, but they'd all expected that she'd come back long before now. Only Keir hadn't known she'd fled.

Noah went pale. "She's out there defenseless. Those men they willnae protect her if they find her alone, Theon. If her father gets his hands on her before there's a deal brokered that makes her still seem worthwhile."

Theon stared at Noah, barely comprehending what his friend was saying. The calloused hands. The scars on her thighs. "What…"

Noah moved forward and gripped Theon's arm. "I've cared for her me whole life. She's the only hope left in that cursed clan."

Theon braced himself, awaiting the declaration of love, the announcement that Noah would be the one to save her, but instead Noah's grip tightened and he met Theon's eyes.

"Find her. Bring her home."

An understanding passed between them at that moment, and the jealous monster that had haunted Theon disappeared. He felt a fool for ever doubting his friend, his brother, and he briefly gripped his arm back and gave a sharp nod.

"Get the horses ready," he ordered, looking to Keir and Graeme. "Get what we can packed up. We need tae move."

He met Noah's gaze again, and the two of them nodded. As the three others set about their tasks, Theon rushed off toward the forest, not stopping to saddle a horse or even prepare a route. All he knew was that Briana was in danger and that he was going to find her. No matter what.