Page 5 of Taken By the Exiled Laird

"Miss, ye are bonny indeed, but I have nae intentions of interferin' in yer nuptials, never fear. I dinnae ken who ye are. I spoke truly earlier; I only invaded yer carriage in need of escape. Now that I have done so, I need tae reunite with me friend. Farewell."

He turned to go. Briana stood, frozen, her mind racing. She'd dreamed of him for so long, and for just a second, she'd truly believed that he'd overcome his family's darkness to come for her. Or, perhaps, he'd come to claim her as part of the evil his family had caused? Why did that thought excite her? Why did it make something deep within her pulse, not with yearning, but with a heat she'd never known? Either way, she'd known he was here for her.

But now… now he acted as though he didn't even know her.

Maybe it wasn't an act—maybe he simply had forgotten her. Who knew how many women had come and gone in the time that had passed? Who knew how often he'd mocked her while crowing about his hatred for her family and the alliance? Who knew if he'd ever thought about her at all in his life as a ghost in the wind?

Whatever resistance Briana had vanished into the air. Tears filled her eyes, tears of exhaustion and pain and fury, tears of crushed hope and lost wishes and the kind of crushing loneliness that a lifetime of being alone had still not been enough to get her used to. And he thought he could simply humiliate her after everything? No. No. Something in her snapped, and a red fury fell over her vision.

"Ye bastard!" she shrieked, the unthinkable word heavy from her mouth as she cursed him into the night. In a blind rage, she kicked off her heavy traveling shoe and grabbed it in her hand before throwing it hard toward his retreating back.

It connected with an extremely satisfying thud, and Theon stumbled forward with a curse of his own. He spun around to face her, eyes wild, rubbing the sore place on his shoulderblade and staring at her with a mix of rage and confusion.

"What's wrong with ye, ye madwoman?" he demanded.

"I'll show ye a madwoman!" Briana snarled, kicking off her other shoe.

Laughter suddenly pierced the tense atmosphere around them, echoing from beyond the trees. A few seconds later, another man exited from the forest, and Briana's anger was quelled in place of surprise at the sight. He was even taller than Theon, his hair and beard bright red and his shoulders broad, putting Briana in mind of a woodsman. He winked at her as he approached Theon.

"Will ye survive?" he teased. "Do I need tae get a healer?"

"Nice tae see ye survived," Theon grumbled. "I thought me carriage play was the best bet, but it seems I've stumbled across madness personified. God almighty."

The other man arched an eyebrow. "Did that shoe turn ye blind, man? This isnae just any personification of madness. In fact, we were just talkin' about her nae so long ago."

Briana's eyes flicked rapidly between them, her heart hammering as she tried to understand what was happening, embarrassment already flooding her from her act of anger. Who was this other man? He seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place him. And why was Theon pretending he did not know her if this man said they'd been talking about her? None of this made any sense.

The other man picked up her shoe and sauntered over, holding it out. She snatched it from him, not meeting his eyes to hide how flustered and confused she suddenly felt about the whole situation.

"Most say thank ye," he said, shaking his head. Then he glanced at Theon again. "Then again, brother, what else can we expect from a spoiled wee princess?"

Theon blinked. "What?" His voice was suddenly low, dangerous in a way that sent a shiver down Briana's spine. "What are ye talkin' about, Graeme?"

"I'm nae princess—" Briana started.

Graeme smiled, but there was little humor in it now. "Near enough tae make no difference. But, look, Theon. Yer madwoman is none other than the spoiled Briana Cameron herself. Now, what are we gonnae do about it?"

Chapter Two

Theon stared, shock, disbelief, anger, confusion, and a thousand other emotions swirling inside him in a way he couldn't quite harness. For a brief moment, he thought Graeme was making a joke in poor taste, but by the expression on his friend's face, he knew that wasn't the case. Besides, even Graeme wouldn't joke about something as serious as this.

He took in the furious, tearful young woman before him.

Could it be?

He'd barely known the girl, all those years ago, the little nymph who'd flitted through the corridors, her eyes burning into his back. As a boy, she'd irritated him with her stares—no doubt judging him from her lofty perch while his family scrambled to survive. Briana Cameron, who had sat back and allowed her father to destroy everything he'd held dear.

He stared, hoping against hope that Graeme was wrong.

But the world shifted beneath his feet. It was her.

Ten years had shaped her, changed her from a shy lass into a haughty, beautiful woman, but those green eyes were the same ones that he remembered staring at him. The hair had darkened, but it was still the forest brown that blended with the trees, and though the features had sharpened, it only reminded him of the portraits of her noble mother. She had grown tall, shorter than him but tall enough to meet his eyes with no issue, with generous curves and strong arms that didn't quite match up with the delicate daughter of a laird he'd met in another life.

"It cannae be," he said, though he knew it was. "That isnae possible."

Briana scoffed. Her braid had come loose in her anger, and it gave her a wildness that was at odds with the proper image she'd given just a few moments before.

"We should be used tae the impossible by now," Graeme noted.