Page 8 of Taken By the Exiled Laird

"If I were a witch, yer manhood would have already shriveled and yer hair fallen out," Briana hissed. "Though I doubt ye have any manhood tae speak of, ye spineless worm."

"Theon—"

He scowled. "Briana Cameron. We found her. Couldnae leave her behind. She's our hostage now, for better or worse. And it seems worse. Woman, shut yer mouth or feel the back of me hand."

Keir froze and stood back, his eyes darting between Theon and Briana as he took in that clipped explanation. "Why would ye bring her here?" Keir demanded. He stepped back hastily, dropping the gap as though even the slightest contact with Briana would poison him. "Draw a knife across her throat and send the body back tae her father. It's the least we can do."

"She's worth more tae us alive," Theon protested, his anger growing hotter at Keir's words. He didn't have the patience for being questioned. Not now. Not about this. "And we dinnae slay unarmed women. Ye were here protestin' as much just a few seconds ago."

"She isnae a woman. She's a spoiled, pampered wee princess, and nae doubt a trap tae kill us all!" Keir shouted, gesturing at Briana. "Did that never even occur tae ye?"

Briana suddenly let out a hysterical laugh. Both brothers stared at her as Graeme approached and a face appeared in one of the windows. "Oh! It seems one of ye has a brain after all. Who'd have thought it would be the bastard son?"

Keir narrowed his eyes dangerously. Theon gripped his shoulder and said, "What are ye talkin' about?"

"Of course it's a trap, eejit," Briana said through her wild giggles. "Ye said it yerself, why would a laird's daughter be travelin' unguarded like that? Fools! Me father and brother's men will soon be crawlin' all over this camp, and each and every one of ye will pay the price for yer crimes."

"What crimes are those?" Keir demanded furiously, his fingers twitching next to where Theon knew he kept his knife. "Nae that I'm surprised. The Camerons already had nae honor; nae wonder they've sent a lass tae serve as bait."

Theon pushed Keir back roughly and stormed forward until he stood almost nose to nose with Briana. "Enough," he roared right in her face. "Stop yer lies. It was nae trap—just an unfortunate happenstance for both of us. The next time ye speak out of turn, woman, ye'll be gagged again. Understood?"

Briana did not flinch, glaring up at him, her back straight, her chin held high. "What happened tae the back of yer hand?"

Theon gripped her arms so hard that he saw her flinch. For a moment, he nearly did hit her—but he couldn't bring himself to do it, not to an unarmed woman. Instead, he tossed her to the side in disgust.

"Ye dinnae seem tae understand where ye are, Miss Cameron. The only thing stoppin' me brother from killin' ye is me. Ye should be grateful for me mercy."

"Forgive me, sir," she said through gritted teeth. "If I dinnae think that yer idea of mercy is one that gives me much comfort. I saw what ye did tae Neil MacFarlane. Nae that it's a surprise, nae with yer blood."

Furiously, he started, "I ought tae⁠—"

"Ye ought tae what?" she shouted back. "Ye prove every drop of yer MacKenzie blood with yer violence and threats. Ye ken nae other way of life. Ye're a monster. A demon. A pathetic, evil traitor."

The thin tether keeping his temper even remotely in check was fraying, and Theon didn't know if it could stand another word from Briana's smart mouth. Heat flamed through his body, primal urges rising to the surface that he worked so hard to keep down. He wanted to grab her, to shake her, and a darker part of him wanted to stop her endless words with his mouth; to pull her against him, to show her his power until she was begging him to claim every part of her.

Alarmed by his own thoughts, he shook his head and turned his back quickly. "Graeme," he said gruffly. "Take the lassie somewhere far away from me. Make sure she cannae run off. We'll deal with her in the mornin'."

He intended to lock himself in his cabin and spend the rest of the night calming down, but as Graeme led Briana away, footsteps followed behind him.

"We need tae talk about this. Ye cannae make these decisions in a haste…" Keir started.

They reached Theon's cabin and he roughly opened the door and stepped inside. He turned to stare at his brother for a second, then, exhausted, he said, "Keir. Ye're me brother. I'd do anythin' for ye. But for now, let me be very clear: bugger off before I make ye."

Then he slammed the door, Keir's astonished, furious face the last thing he saw.

Graeme simply watched the exchange before moving slowly closer to Briana.

"It's a dry night, and nae too cold," Graeme told Briana as he gestured to the little shelter under which the horses slept. A large tree stood just behind it, and he indicated she should sit in front of it. "It shouldnae rain either, though if it does, the branches meet the shelter and make a wee canopy. Ye should be fine."

Briana stared at him for a moment, incredulous about why he would be chattering about the weather of all things, but then understanding dawned. She was to sleep outside tonight, then? So be it. Though she wanted to cry again, she would not start while this man was still here. She gracefully sat down in front of the tree.

"I ken ye. Ye're Graeme Ferguson. We met a few times when I was a lass, but I'd have never recognized ye," she said as he grabbed some rope and started tying her to the tree.

Once she was secured, he cut the bonds around her wrists. Briana tried not to show her relief or wince at the angry red welts the ribbons had left behind.

"I was, once," Graeme agreed. "I last saw ye ten years ago, just days before me home was destroyed forever. Ye've changed a lot since then, Miss Cameron—but I suppose so have we all."

Bitterly, Briana asked, "How is it that ye recognized me, but Theon didnae?"