Alana could hardly see for the tears in her eyes, but she ran nonetheless. Even though it would mean running into the woods, where she would most certainly become lost.

It would be better than marrying that beast.

She couldn’t have explained it to Brice, for it wasn’t the sort of thing that could be explained. It had to be felt. The coldness of him. The smile on the surface which only barely masked a violent, uncaring man underneath.

It would be the same as marrying her father, in essence.

She would not do that.

She ran for the road, beyond the courtyard, the gown she’d been instructed to wear pulled up to her knees. A ridiculous thing, really, heavy and tight at the elbows and bust. It made drawing a deep breath all but impossible.

Still, she ran, moonlight showing her the way.

“Alana!” She had hardly gone beyond the castle walls before he caught her, taking her by the arm and swinging her about. “Ye canna do this, lass!”

A broken sob wrenched itself from her chest. “I can, and I will, and you cannot stop me! You can pretend not to know! Just let me go, please!”

“Alana.” He gripped both of her arms tight, shaking her slightly as he did. “Alana, I could never let ye run out into the woods like this. I would have to go with ye, which would mean I knew of your escape. You said your intended is not a good man. What do ye think he would do to ye?”

“You could help me be free!”

“I cannot. I’m sorry, lass, but I have no right. I’m in a foreign country where I’m unwanted. There are four of us in total against Remington’s knights. I must think of Rodric and Quinn and my brother. What would happen to them? Alana, what if they were executed over this?” He shook her once more, grimacing.

His question hung heavy in the air and in her heart. Yes, what of them? She hadn’t thought of the men who had escorted her. She had considered them captors, the enemy, when the journey had begun.

Now, they were friends. She cared for them. She thought about Caitlin, a woman she’d never met, who carried Rodric’s child.

It was a sobering reality. And a terrible one.

“Come. I will escort you back to your chambers.” He attempted to pull her in the direction of the castle.

She dragged her feet. “What if you left, then?” she whispered, clutching desperately at every last bit of hope. “If you had already left and were long gone by the time I escaped, no one could blame you for it. You might be able to get away.”

“Put it out of your head, lass!” he replied in a sharp whisper, glaring at her. “Stop thinking about it. Accept the way things are and let the rest go. It is for the best.”

“The best for whom?”

He growled, shoving her into a darkened corner near the wall where they would not be seen. The sky was beginning to lighten, the feast and celebration having gone through much of the night and nearly into dawn. She’d slipped away from the keep once most of the revelers had fallen asleep, some of them still seated at the long banquet tables.

“Whom do ye think? Yourself, of course. This is foolish. The man up there,” he said, pointing up to the keep, “will hunt you down. He will make life miserable for ye. You think things are bad now, when all ye need do is smile to his face? Imagine if he were to hurt ye for attempting to thwart him. And what of the guests who’ve already arrived for a wedding? What about the humiliation he’d face? He would punish ye for that too, lass. Make no mistake.”

She wept openly, though as quietly as possible to avoid being overheard. Brice’s face was a mask of misery. “It gives me no pleasure to do this to ye, lass,” he sighed.

“To do what?”

Rather than answering, he bent at the waist and threw her over his shoulder. She gasped, shocked beyond reason, and pounded on his back and shoulders. “Put me down!” she hissed, with only the fear of discovery keeping her from shouting.

“I cannot, and ye know I cannot. You’d best direct me to your chambers, then.” He marched them to the keep, straight in through the door she’d left open after dashing out into the courtyard.

“Brice! If he sees you in here—!”

“Best be quick about it, then,” he replied in a whisper.

The castle was mostly quiet, save for the occasional dog or cat passing by. It seemed the place was crawling with them. They might raise a fuss if she did not put a stop to things right away.

As little as she wished to do so, she pointed Brice up the stairs and down the corridor on their right. He carried her all the way, bouncing her against his back.

She was too enraged to even cry any longer.

She had no one. No one to understand her desperation. No one to comfort her once the ceremony came to a close and she was Countess Remington.

Perhaps she would throw herself from a window. It would mean her escape without bringing danger on the others.

“This door,” she whispered, motioning toward the one which opened to her chambers. They were lovely, at any rate, large and comfortable. Her bed was solid wood, rich and shining, with heavy tapestries at the posts to keep her warm once the weather took a turn.

She had no plan to be in that bed once the weather turned.

One way or another, she would find a way to be free.

She could share none of this with Brice as he set her on her feet just inside the room. “There. Now. I am sorry, lass. Believe it.”

“I will not believe it,” she whispered, still defiant.

A rueful smile touched the corners of his mouth. “Aye. I have no doubt. If ye did, it would not be Alana I was speaking to.”

“I won’t be Alana much longer. I will be Countess Remington.”

“Nay. You’ll always be Alana.” He reached out, stroked her hair just once before taking a backward step. “Good night to ye, Alana. And goodbye.”

She could hardly breathe for the pressure in her chest as he disappeared down the dark corridor, blending into the shadows before the echo of his footfalls died away.