Chapter 15
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?"
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.
Theon raced through the forest toward the clearing where they'd practiced with knives, hoping against hope that he'd find her there.
The rain had stopped, but the ground was thick and stodgy, his feet sinking in with every step, but he didn't stop running, even when his lungs burned in his chest. He rushed past the clearing when he saw she wasn't there, racing toward the place in the river where he'd taken her to bathe, wondering where else she could possibly be, praying that he'd find her before it was too late.
How could he have been such a fool? How could he have not seen what he needed to see?
All the pieces had been laid out before him, but it had taken him until now, when it might be too late, to put them together.
He called out Briana's name over and over, her name dancing with the wind, but there was no answer, and soon he was too winded to even shout.
He didn't stop, pushing past the burgeoning exhaustion. He couldn't give up.
Then he saw it—a piece of emerald green fabric stuck on a thorn, darkened and weighed down by the storm but still fluttering in the wind.
He jogged over to it and picked it up, recognizing the soft material in an instant. He'd seen that color so many times, awake and asleep, reflected to him from eyes that saw him in a way nobody else ever had.
With renewed vigor, he searched around and there they were: bootprints in the rain-softened ground, erratic and stumbling, aiming directly into the bramble.
Theon set off again, racing through the thick forest as fast as he could, impatiently pushing past branches and thorns and other obstacles.
Ahead, he could hear the rushing of the water where the small burn became a roaring river, and his throat caught as he imagined terrible scenes where Briana was washed away by the water.
Trying to clear his mind of such a thought, he ran the last few feet to the shore.
And there, behind the boulder, was Briana. She was soaked to the bone and pale, her eyes red and her hair and dress a mess, her cheeks stained by tears and her body shaking. He almost collapsed then and there with sheer relief, but he couldn't even approach before the sound reached him.
Movement.
Voices.
Men's voices.
They were here. The Camerons were here.
Theon didn't wait. He ran despite his protesting muscles and lungs, reaching Briana's side in an instant.
She was trembling, her eyes wide as she stared toward the forest where the voices were getting closer, but the fear was replaced by shock as he appeared at her side. Theon didn't have the breath left to talk to her. He reached down and pulled her to her feet, then clasped her hand and kept running.
She raced behind him, gripping him tightly, and despite the danger, the warmth of their connection spurred Theon on.
A little up from the bank of the river, Theon saw the mouth of a cave half-hidden behind a few trees.
It was the best they could do in the circumstances, and so he pulled Briana inside, not stopping until they were deep in the hidden cavern.
Letting go of her hand, he returned to the entrance and used the branches and leaves to complete the covering of the entrance, hiding them together in temporary safety.
When he was sure it was safe, or as safe as it was going to get, he moved back into the depths of the cave, where Briana waited wide-eyed.
He tried to speak, but his body gave out at last. With one look at her, he collapsed to the ground, wheezing heavily as his lungs tried to catch breath and his muscles forced him to relax.
The smooth rock was cool against his cheek, and though he wasn't actually unconscious, Theon suddenly felt himself in a dreamlike state.
He rolled onto his back, his chest heaving.
"Theon," Briana whispered. "Ye came."
He wheezed out a laugh. "Of course I did," he replied.
Without another word, she sat down beside him. And though he ached and burned, Theon felt whole.