Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Briana paced back and forth in front of the inn's entrance, her skin tingling all over from Theon's touch, her lips pressed together as she tried to remove the imprint of his against them.
She wanted to cry, to laugh, to scream, to hit something—to do anything to get the tangled web of her feelings out.
She could not even be truly angry, because she understood why he had done it.
It hadn't been a demanding claim, but a kiss to avoid danger, a distraction and nothing more. She knew that. She understood that.
But had he had to kiss her with such passion?
Had it truly been necessary to hold her so close and to touch her as she had never been held before?
To Theon, her lips were probably the latest in an endless line and the kiss had likely meant less than any of them.
It had just been a tactic, another cold, efficient plan by the de facto leader of the Broken Blades.
But to her—to the young, idealistic woman who still lived in her heart despite everything her life had done to quash her—it had been the first kiss she had dreamed of for so long with the first love she had only dared dream of.
And it had been all wrong.
In her dreams, he had wanted her, loved her. In reality, she was nothing to him but a tool—and he was nothing but her captor. At least, that was what she must tell herself. She would not let her heart get carried away.
The way he had looked at her when he had discovered her scars!
She could not bear it, but it was stuck in her memory forever; half-shock, half-pity, nothing like the cold confidence he'd worn so carefully since they had met again.
It shamed her, infuriated her, and made her want nothing more than to run as far away from him as she could and never see his face or those eyes ever again. Even surrounded by MacFarlane soldiers…
She stopped pacing as the realization struck like lightning.
The MacFarlane soldiers were his enemy, but they were not hers, were they?
They were loyal men sworn to her betrothed, or at least to his father.
They were not a threat to her. They were her way out.
Excitement leapt within her, but it was tempered with dread that she impatiently shoved aside.
She did not have time to overthink her plan.
Theon would follow her out of the alley any moment, and she must be gone when he did.
She turned to run down the path, but she couldn't keep herself from glancing at the alleyway one last time.
Briana took a breath and started down the path in the opposite direction from where they'd come, toward a small encampment at the edge of the village.
She resisted the urge to run, but she did walk quickly, putting a decent distance between herself and the inn in a very short time.
Just as she reached the end of the path, she caught sight of a pair of shabbily dressed children.
One of them was struggling with the creaky handle on an old well while the other sat with his arms around his knees, his back resting against the stone and his eyes hollow.
She knew she had to keep going, but when the small girl slipped and fell and the handle spun, crashing the bucket back down into the well, she knew she couldn't simply walk by.
The girl swore in language far beyond her years and stamped her foot in fury, tears pouring down her face.
Briana's heart clenched, and she stepped off the path and hurried toward the children.
The girl shrank back at the sight of her.
She was about ten or eleven, her once-blonde hair caked with dirt, her dress little more than a rag.
Though the girl didn't run, she stared distrustfully as Briana approached.
The boy was younger, perhaps six, maybe seven, with gaunt cheeks and thin arms. His blue eyes brightened at the sight of her.
He stumbled to his feet, but his sister snapped at him to sit.
"We dinnae need strangers, Jock. We can manage," the girl said sternly. "Come away from her."
Jock ignored his sister and hurried over to Briana, grabbing at her skirt. "Please, miss lady, can ye help? Rosie cannae get the water. Can we get some coin? Some food?"
Briana stared down at him, words failing her. "I… Where are yer parents?"
"Where are yers?" Rosie snapped back. "Jock, come away."
The boy ignored her again. "Da got called tae fight. Mam died in winter. Please, we're hungry."
"I…" Briana glanced over at the encampment, then back at the boy and girl.
Her skin prickled and her eyes itched as she saw the earnestness in the younger's eyes and the distrust in the older.
She had never gone hungry, not really, but she remembered seeing that same distrust of the whole world staring back at her from the mirror not so long ago.
"Rosie, was it? I'm nae gonnae hurt ye nor yer brother. Will ye let me help ye?"
She spoke without thinking, but the words came from her heart.
She had to help these children, at least at this moment, even if she couldn't solve anything for them long term.
Hope blossomed in her heart when she realized that she could kill two birds with one stone if she was careful enough.
Those guards had come out of the inn, and it was very likely that there were others like them inside of it.
If she took the children there, then she could feed them. And then, if she made herself known…
Rosie still didn't look trusting, but she cautiously approached. "Why would ye want tae help us? I hear the noble accent ye're tryin' tae hide. Yer kind dinnae give a toss about the likes of us."
"That isnae true!" Briana protested. She took Jock's hand in hers. He felt so small, even for his age, his little hand so thin she was scared to press too hard in case she hurt him. "Please let me help. Ye're the people of this clan, are ye nae? Without ye, where is its strength?"
"In the castle, with the coin," Rosie replied sullenly. She spoke like a woman twice her age, and every word was a knife through Briana's heart. "What will ye want in return?"
"Rosie, please," Jock said. "The nice lady wants tae get us food. Can we please go? I'm so hungry."
Rosie hesitated.
Briana gently pressed the advantage. "I promise I'll leave ye alone as soon as I've seen ye fed," Briana swore. "But for yer brother's sake, if nae mine, let me take ye tae the inn. Ye've nothin' tae lose." She held out her free hand.
After a brief moment, Rosie moved forward and took her hand. When she did, the mask broke, and the vulnerability of her true age shone through. "Can ye really help us?" Rosie whispered.
Briana wanted to cry, but she smiled instead. "I'll do me best," she said, but it burned in her throat because her best didn't feel like nearly enough.
When she turned to lead the children back along the path, she saw Theon waiting, watching her.
She didn't know how long he'd been there, but neither was she surprised.
His expression was inscrutable, his eyes trained on her, the only emotion a small, thoughtful frown.
Holding her head high, she led the children toward him and stopped in front of him.
"I told ye tae stay close," he told her in an even tone.
She ignored that. "I want tae get these bairns food at the inn. Will ye spare some coin for them?"
Theon glanced down at the children, first Rosie and then Jock, and something shifted behind his eyes.
They lingered on the younger brother for a moment, long enough that Briana wondered what he was seeing in the boy's place.
Then he looked up, his gray eyes meeting Briana's, and for just a second a vulnerability shone there that made her heart almost stop.
Then it was gone and he nodded. "Aye, if ye wish. Come along."
Her mind buzzed with questions, but she pushed them away.
She didn't want to wonder about Theon. She would soon be clear of him forever, and she could not waste another moment considering him except for how he could help her help the children.
Nodding in slight thanks, she led the children inside, Theon close behind.
A blast of warmth hit her as she entered the inn.
Its blazing, cheerful fire was heating the whole building.
It was a lovely inn, large but still charming, cozy, and clearly maintained by people who loved it—or it had once been.
But though the music played and tables full of people ate and drank, there was something off here.
Briana had only twice in her life managed to step foot in a common tavern, and each time she'd been captivated by the microcosm of life captured within the walls.
But the normal buzz of conversation was dimmed, the barmaids who walked between the tables with food and drink wore no smiles, and the musician looked tired and worn.
Theon put a warning hand on her shoulder, nodding toward the central table.
It was full of MacFarlane men, laughing and drinking and bothering the barmaids on their way past. Briana gritted her teeth as a young woman squealed in discomfort after being groped, causing raucous drunken laughter from the men.
Only the children's hands in her own were enough to stop her from losing her temper.
She forced herself to look away, but Theon's expression offered no comfort.
In fact, his grey eyes were storm dark, his jaw clenched hard.
He gave her some coins, but did not move his hate-filled gaze from the table of MacFarlane men.
Swallowing, Briana moved to the bar, where an older woman with flyaway grey hair was cleaning a glass and glaring across at the soldiers at the central table. She looked up with a weary expression as Briana and the children approached.
"I'd like tae buy somethin' for these bairns," Briana said. "A hot stew or soup would be best, and maybe a skein of water. A cup of warm goat's milk wouldnae go amiss either."