Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
"Let me go, ye slimy bastard!" Briana shrieked, struggling hard against the ropes.
The horse across which Malcolm's men had bound her reared, distressed by her movements, and the soldiers only laughed cruelly, Malcolm's laughter loudest of them all.
Every step that the horse took was another painful jolt through her body, but she refused to gasp or cry out in pain.
She would not give him that satisfaction.
Instead she grunted and twisted and kicked, throwing her entire body in every direction until, at last, the ropes came loose.
A sharp wrench was all she felt before she was falling, plummeting to the ground so hard that every bone in her body felt bruised.
She landed flat in the soft mud, wounds popping open and pain surging in places she hadn't known could even feel it, searing her senses and temporarily turning her vision pure white.
She wanted to just lie there, but she forced herself up, ignoring her shaking legs, wondering how quickly they would kill her if she tried to run.
None of the soldiers moved toward her, but the horse stopped, and Malcolm dismounted.
He moved slowly, almost casually, and when she tried to move away from him, her leg crumpled beneath her.
He caught her elbow before she could fall, steadying her so gently that it made her feel sick, and he waited until she was done swaying before he spoke.
Malcolm stood before her and cupped her cheek.
"Briana," he crooned. "Miss Cameron. The future Lady MacFarlane.
What will it take for ye tae learn?" His other hand clenched her arm, fingers so tight she was sure they were bruising, and he pressed hard against her cheek as he forced her to look straight at him.
"Shall I make an example of ye here and now?
I see yer torn dress. Shall I claim ye before me men and remind ye that ye're mine? "
She pulled away, a surge of strength overcoming her. "Get yer filthy hands off me."
His smile sharpened. "Have ye forgotten? Ye're mine." He reached for her. "Unless… the traitors have poisoned yer mind. But even if they have…" He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, "I ken how tae remedy it."
Briana spat in his face.
The soldiers shouted and Malcolm stumbled back, his eyes wide with fury.
He hit her hard across the face with the back of his hand, sending her sprawling, the bruise blooming in the exact same spot as it had when her father had hit her all those years before.
She landed hard, and she felt his rage as he growled and stepped closer.
A war cry pierced through the night.
Briana scrambled to her feet just as Theon burst onto the scene on the back of a stolen horse, his sword raised, blood streaking his clothing but strength still radiating from him.
He cut down two soldiers who raced toward him before they could even scream and rode directly toward Briana and Malcolm, righteous fury burning in his gray eyes.
Briana's heart seized at the sight of him, and she took half a shaky step forward.
Malcolm grabbed her and pulled her back against his chest, one arm tight around her waist and the other raising cold steel against her throat. Briana swallowed and felt the thin edge of his blade cut a fine line against her skin.
Theon froze in place, halting the horse before slowly sliding off its back. He didn't move closer, his gaze locked on Briana's, an urgent message hidden behind his burning expression.
"Come closer and I open her throat," Malcolm threatened coldly in a tone that made it clear that this was no bluff. "Drop the blade now and I'll let ye live long enough tae see me wed and bed yer whore before I kill ye."
Briana's breath stuttered, but she did not cry. She kept her eyes on Theon, steady as she could, and remembered every moment with him. Every whisper. Every kiss. Every promise.
Every lesson.
He mouthed the words. Break the hold.
In one swift move, Briana twisted, grabbing the knife as she burst free of Malcolm's grip. Without hesitation, she plunged the dagger into his side and shoved him hard. He fell, roaring in pain, but she did not look back as she ran to Theon's side.
He threw himself in front of her, sword raised, as the few remaining MacFarlane men surged to attack. His blade sang, his body a shield as he parried the first attack with effortless ease.
"Fight if ye wish, but yer heir bleeds out as we waste time," Theon warned the men.
The soldiers exchanged looks, uncertainty between them. Malcolm cried out in pain again. Decision made, the soldiers retreated, lifting their leader onto the waiting horse and disappearing out of sight. Briana's heart raced as she clung to Theon's arm, and the two of them stood, watching them go.
When silence fell, Theon turned to Briana, grabbing the sides of her arms as he anxiously looked her over. "Are ye hurt? Did they hurt ye?"
She ached all over, but she shook her head. "I'm all right," she assured him. "Thank ye."
"For what?" Theon asked.
"For comin' for me."
He shook his head. "Ridiculous woman. I told ye before. I'll always come for ye."
She threw her arms around him, and he held her tight, murmuring low, rough, soothing words in her ear. The pressure of him holding her was the most soothing thing she had ever experienced, and for just a moment everything felt right with the world.
Until Theon's hands loosened on her back and his body sagged, crumpling forward into her arms. She stumbled under his unexpected weight, falling to the ground as she tried to support him.
"Theon?" she asked.
He did not answer. He was limp, unmoving against her. When she looked down, blood was soaking into her dress where his body touched hers.
"No!" she cried. Panic crept in and she shook him, rolling him off her onto his back. "Theon. Theon!"
But there was no answer as the darkness swallowed them both.