Chapter 3
Chapter Three
An hour passed or more before they reached the deep center of the forest, so far off the beaten path that the whole place looked completely undiscovered.
Briana had eventually stopped struggling only around twenty minutes before, but as they rode deeper into the wild, she perked up again, making muffled questioning sounds through the gag.
Theon refused to acknowledge her. The less he thought of her as a person and the more as a transactional tool to help their cause against his enemy, the better.
Besides, knowing the Camerons, she'd have nothing but poison on her lips.
They drove the horses forward until they reached what seemed to be an impassable wall of trees and continued forward.
The optical illusion broke, and they emerged in a clearing deep in the wild with four ramshackle wooden cabins set up in a semicircle around a covered fire pit.
A little further away, a large cleared training ground stood by a makeshift stable.
This tiny little village was a world carved in secret, one that the Broken Blades had found as a refuge in the country that had turned against them.
Like every one of these camps, it was only a temporary haven: none of them could stay in one place for longer than six months.
Theon figured they had another three or four months in this place before they had to move on, though perhaps less now that he was making this gamble with the Cameron girl.
Graeme pulled his horse to a stop and Theon did the same.
He slipped down off the horse then reached up and lifted Briana down as well.
He expected to see her docile, maybe even broken.
However, though her eyes were red and her face was streaked with tears, her glare was so venomous it felt like a physical attack.
Theon narrowed his eyes, then, without taking his eyes from her, called over to Graeme. "Deal with the horses?"
"Aye," Graeme said.
He sounded subdued, his usual buoyant nature somehow troubled.
Theon knew that his friend was more softhearted than him, and he prayed that he kept his discomfited thoughts to himself.
Thankfully, Graeme said nothing more, simply leading both horses over to the little stable to join their other three horses, muttering gently to them the whole time.
One of the doors creaked open, and Theon turned away from Briana at last to see his only brother by blood.
Though they both carried their father's dark hair and impressive height, Keir carried the blue eyes of the mother who had been Laird MacKenzie's mistress.
The bastard son of Laird MacKenzie was lean and angular where Theon was broad.
Keir's eyes widened at the sight in front of him, and he rushed forward, shoving past Theon to reach Briana.
"Are ye mad?" he demanded with the same curt tone he'd used for his whole life.
Keir had grown up knowing he was a bastard, loyal to the father who had nonetheless claimed him and the brother who accepted him but nothing and nobody else.
Three years younger than Theon, he'd carried a resentful darkness with him for his whole life.
All that said, though, he was no monster, and the alarm was clear in his expression.
"Have ye grown so lonely ye've kidnapped a bride for yerself? God above!"
"Is that what ye think of me?" Theon snapped, anger bubbling quickly in a way that only Keir could ever conjure.
He stopped and took a deep breath, reminding himself how this must look.
He tried to fight back the unexpected shame that rose within him as he considered the image of him dragging around a bound girl. "Keir, she—"
Keir ripped the gag from Briana's mouth. "Miss, are ye—"
"Ye rotten, cowardly, thrice-accursed eejit! Pathetic, pus-ridden coward!" Briana shouted, gasping for air between each jibe. "Traitorous scum!"
As the torrent of insults continued, Keir spun on Theon, incredulous. "What in the blazes is this, Theon? Explain yerself."
"I would if she could shut her mouth for three bloody seconds!" Theon roared, his temper finally breaking. "That gag was the only blessin' we had remainin' tae us, and now ye've let the witch free."
"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?"
"I didnae at first. It was yer expression when he turned away from ye—I'd seen it before, and I'll never forget it," Graeme replied as he straightened up. He moved behind the tree to tighten the rope that held her in place.
Briana sat there, struck dumb for the first time.
Her mind was racing with confused, conflicting thoughts.
How could Graeme speak so kindly of the past while treating her like a prisoner in the present?
How could Theon treat her so roughly when he'd spent so long in her dreams?
How could she have woken that morning on the way to her wedding and now be ending the night tied to a tree in a hidden world?
Graeme came back around to the front and crouched down so that their eyes were level. "Miss Cameron. Briana. Let me give ye some advice."
"I dinnae want any advice from ye," she said, but the fight had gone out of her. She slumped against the tree, suddenly exhausted.
"Ye'll have it anyway," Graeme replied. He paused, considering his words, then said, "Listen. If ye intend tae survive this, then hold yer tongue."
"And if I dinnae?" she challenged.
Graeme smiled, though he looked almost sad as he did. "Then at least it will be over quickly. Sleep as well as ye can, Briana. We'll see what the mornin' brings."
He walked away, not turning back again. She watched him go until he disappeared around a corner back toward the cabins, then waited until she heard his door opening and then closing behind him. Only then, only when she was alone, did she allow herself to cry.