Page 41 of Taken By the Exiled Laird

Briana hesitated.

Theon smiled a little sadly. "Ye had tae see it for yerself. And now ye have."

"Now I've seen the truth," she agreed. She reached up and touched his cheek, drawing him down toward her. "Now I've seen ye."

She kissed him then because words failed her, and in that kiss she gave him all her passion and her profound relief, a seal on the confession that she had just made, a promise in its depth. It was slow and deep, a silent conversation made by lips and tongues and shared body heat. She savored his taste, his heady scent washing away the lingering bitterness of everything that had come before. He responded in kind, his lips moving against hers with a reverence that made her heart ache and sing. Theon's hands rose to frame her face, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones. The sorrow and anger that had followed Briana for so long melted away under his touch, and in its place, a tender need bloomed low in her belly with insistent heat.

Theon shifted, rolling them both so that they lay together side by side. His leg slid between hers, pressing against the heat of her core. The rough wool of his tartan brushed against her inner thigh, contrasting the smoothness of his palm as his hand roamed down her side, coming to rest on the curve of her hip.

They didn't speak. A soft sigh escaped her lips as his body shifted in a slow, deliberate rhythm that felt like a promise and a question at once. She answered by arching against him, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. This time there was no rush, only a deep, unhurried exploration and a flame that burned steady and strong between them.

Once they were both bare and exposed, he rolled again, settling over her, his weight a comforting anchor. He guided himself to her entrance and entered her with a groan of pure contentment, and she closed her eyes at the slow, full stretch that felt like a blissful homecoming.

She welcomed him, her body molding to his once more, losing herself in how he felt. The movements were a languid, liquid dance in the firelight, every thrust a reaffirmation of the new promise between them as the world narrowed to the slick glide of their bodies and their whispered breaths and sighs. It was a powerful joining, a sealing of the new reality in the most ancient, profound way, and they danced until they both shuddered together in a gentle but powerful shared release. Pleasure crested over them like the turning of the tide: a slow, inexorable rise that left them breathless and clinging to one another, trembling and content in the aftermath.

When Theon's breaths slowly deepened and he gave way to sleep, Briana lay awake and content in his arms. She knew that the dawn would bring a new world—a world in which she could finally find her place.

Chapter Eighteen

Theon's nightmares stayed away when Briana was in his arms.

He did not dream of that day a decade ago when the world crumbled. In fact, he did not dream at all, finding true rest for the first time in ten long years, only a vague sense of peace and happiness as his companion. His dreams, at last, were free of smoke and blood.

Until a horse's scream jolted him awake and the acrid smell of burning overwhelmed him.

He jolted awake, coughing as he bolted upright. The cabin was filled with smoke, flames licking the walls, and screaming just beyond the door. The smoke. The blood. It had left his nightmares behind, but as his blood ran cold and the heat flared around them, Theon understood that it had followed him into the waking world. His heart clenched, and for a moment he was eighteen years old again, coughing and choking and crying out his brother's name. Standing over the body of the father who had loved him. Scorching his skin as the world crumbled to dust.

"Theon!" a voice echoed in his ear. Hands clutched at his arm, shaking him. A heavy, hacking cough was followed quickly by, "Come on!"

When his mother died, she'd been buried by the sea, just as she'd wished. He thought that Laura, Keir's mother, would have liked that, too. His father had wanted to be interred beside his own father and grandfather and generations of MacKenzies before him. But neither Laura nor Laird MacKenzie had gotten their wish. There had been no bodies left to bury once the fire had finished raging and the castle had been razed to the ground. There'd been nothing left of them but a tarnished memory and two broken boys without a home.

"Please, we have tae go!" the woman's voice urged.

He could taste the smoke as it clogged his lungs, but he couldn't move. What would be left of him when the fire consumed him? Who would remember him?

"Theon!" Briana shouted. "Please! Ye must fight. We're alive—we need tae stay that way. Fight!"

The desperation in her voice snapped him back into the present. He turned, wild-eyed, to see her kneeling beside him on the bed, coughing hard in the thick dark smoke that now curled through the cabin. It would only be moments before the entire small building was consumed. She should have left, but she knelt on the bed, trying vainly to drag him along.

He would not let her burn. He'd let the world burn first.

Jumping to his feet, he grabbed Briana's hand and the two of them rushed to the door. Loud voices mingled with screams and shouts, and one voice rose above all the others in strong, unwavering command.

"Destroy it!" the leader ordered. "Kill them all if ye have tae! Bring me sister back tae me, even if ye need tae burn this whole forest tae the ground."

Theon was wildly thankful for the rain earlier in the day. It might be the only reason they were still alive now, slowing down the flames enough that they had time to escape. But as he turned to say as much to Briana, he saw that she had turned ashen, more gray than pale, and she was staring at the door with wide, horrified eyes.

"Iain…" she whispered.

Thunderstruck, Theon understood. Iain. Iain Cameron, the brother, the son, the heir to the lairdship of the Cameron Clan. He'd come personally to retrieve the lass.

Was it a rescue?

Or was he simply here to return his father's property back home?

He remembered Briana's empty threats, which seemed like a lifetime ago now, when she'd warned him that her brother would come after them. How strange to think that those were the lies that could come true.

"Will he listen tae reason?" he demanded, facing Briana and taking her by the arms. "Or is he yer father's man?"