Father Degnan recited the coronation vows to Kenneth.
He answered, “I swear.”
The priest placed a golden diadem around Kenneth mac Alpin's brow.
“I crown you King of all Alba. So shall you and your descendants reign forever and anon.” A smile burst across Father Degnan's face.
Kenneth stood as the King of Alba, he waved one hand in the air. “Let the festivities began. Light the bonfire.”
Fergus stood by the mountainous pile of logs, built at the King's command. He tossed a firebrand onto the dry wood, igniting a hot, roaring blaze. Smiling kitchen servants hurried to their work, to roast more than a dozen pigs for the coronation feast of the first king of Alba.
* * * *
Malcolm walked toward the green hill where the ceremony commenced. He could not take his eyes off Bethoc. She stood out even from a distance, looking more like a goddess than a guardian. A manifestation of beauty in an emerald tunic dress with a gold belt adorning her dainty waist as her dark hair hung, a wispy cloak, to her knees.
“Bethoc I want you,” Malcolm whispered on the wind.
She turned toward him as if she felt his stare.
Their eyes locked like two lodestones drawing the other. Before Malcolm knew it, he stood in front of her. He had no memory of taking a single step. He didn't remember anything, except Bethoc. He gazed into the smoldering fire in her eyes, glanced at her parted lips, then lowered his head until his mouth touch hers. She reached up to his shoulders and rolled her warm arms against his neck, squeezing him. His heart thrust so hard and fast he could hardly breathe. He was back where he belonged, in Bethoc’s arms.
Malcolm’s arms encircled her and his palm tingled as he pressed it against the small of her back. All her muscles thrust forward against him, closer and tighter. Ripples of fire coursed through him as he suckled her wet lips. She was all that was real to him, all else was a blur. The two of them alone, were the whole world.
Still clinging to her warm body, he released her mouth and rasped. “I will not leave you. Oh, Bethoc. I vow to stay on land with you.”
“No,” Bethoc whispered from her parted lips. “Malcolm, Scone is not the same now. I am a Pict, not a Scot. It is no longer my home.”
“What say you? I cannot undo what has been done.” Had she gone back to hating him for being a Scot? Would he lose her because Kenneth ruled her homeland?
“I say, let us go to a place with no war. A place where a Pict can still be wild.”
The pit of Malcolm’s stomach tingled. “Do you mean—?”
Bethoc cut him off by saying, “Yes, I will take to the sea at your side. I will swim with you through life.”
“No.” There was a worried edge to his tone. “Bethoc, you do not know what this means. The only way a human can become a selkie is to—”
She interrupted again, “To drown.”
“I will not allow you. I love you.”
“But, I will not die.”
“Yes, you will die then crossover to a different life where you are no longer the same. No longer a true human.”
“You ken I do not know all the ways of the fey. But Picts have lived with the fey as long as the Scots. My husband is a selkie, so if I wish to crossover I can.”
“I cannot allow you.”
Bethoc placed her finger on his lips, stopping his speech. “It is not your choice to make. You are my life. I go where you go. I ask only that you go down with me when I drown, so yours is the last face I see. And when I awake as a selkie, it will be the first face I see.” Bethoc flashed a wry grin.
“Besides, life as a selkie offers the boon of never having to wear shoes again.”
He let out a soft chortle, then of a sudden was troubled by the notion she had not given serious thought to the fateful decision. “What if you change your mind?”
“I will not. Why would I? Life as a selkie sounds quite wild and dangerous.” Bethoc winked.
“I love you woman, my Pictish Princess. So right you are, it is good to
be wild and free.”
Malcolm claimed her lips, twisting and sliding against them. As she parted them, he sunk his tongue deep into her mouth. She moaned and his fingers dug into her soft flesh. His groin tightened and swelled. He darted his tongue in and out of her mouth.
When Malcolm heard Kenneth call his name, he wanted to slap him. Now was not the time but he noticed the king had walked up them. Reluctantly, he pulled his mouth off Bethoc’s.
“Malcolm, you have done well. I am king of Alba thanks to your good service. I shall bestow on you the title of King's Champion and any land you wish. You but need to ask and I shall grant you any boon.”
He released his hold on Bethoc and turned his head toward Kenneth. “It was my pleasure to serve you, cousin. But the sea calls to me. It haunts me.”
“Then it is time for you to return to your vast, watery realm. Let love find you in the sea.” Kenneth paused ... “I will miss you, cousin.”
“I never regretted you taking my pelt skin, Kenneth. The proudest thing I have ever done was to serve you, my king.”
Donald walked up to them. “Do not forget me, cousin.”
“Never,” Malcolm swore.
Donald gazed intently into Malcolm's eyes. “It is awful what happened to you in the storm. Do you wish you had never drowned that night?”
Malcolm looked at his cousins, remembering days long ago, when he and they, the three of them as boys, at the seashore, threw clumps of wet sand at each other, raced across the shore, tried to leap over crashing waves, swam further out to than they should have. They’d look to the sea, envisioning all the faraway places to sail off to. The three of them dreamed of building a big ship and venturing to magic islands like St. Columba had.
Then Donald grew up. Now, he saw the sea as a source of food to keep the Scots from starving in the winter. Donald became a man who stood on shore and stared at the waves, thinking of the threat of Viking ships.
Malcolm swam alongside all the creatures of the sea, great and small. Discovered and explored underwater caves. Plunged to depths no human could ever reach, and in the sea, he never had to lift a sword or fight by order of his king. “No Donald ... I never wish for that.”
“It is good.” Donald grinned as he spread his arms out as if to take in the bounty of the food all around them. “But, before you leave, you need to partake of the coronation fest.”
“Yes,” said Kenneth. “The finest fare awaits us.” He paused, then with a gleam in his green eyes, he added, “And one of Riona's cakes.”
“Ahh.” Malcolm and Bethoc said together on a sigh.
With the thick gold torque at his neck and the diadem upon his head, Kenneth glistened. He raised his out-stretched arm toward the wooden hall. “Come, my feast awaits.”
Malcolm wrapped his arm around Bethoc's shoulder as they followed Kenneth and Donald. The crowd of people already seated cheered as the king of Alba entered the hall. Scents of ale, smoke, and roasting meat packed the air. Bethoc and Malcolm trailed behind Kenneth as he made his way to the dais, past rows of long tables and benches full of festers. Bethoc greeted old friends as Picts hailed her with every step.
“I have known these folks since I was a wee babe. But I can do naught more than greet them as if I will see them on the morrow. I know not how to tell them, I am taking to the sea to live as a seal.”
Malcolm chucked. “I have no wont to tell them either. We shall leave those tidings to Kenneth. It is a duty of a king to give people tidings they cannot otherwise fathom.”
Stepping onto the dais, Malcolm let go of Bethoc's shoulder and took her hand in his as he sat down in the chair to Kenneth's left. Bethoc eased into the tall wooden chair next to Malcolm. Goblets brimming with ale stood on the board before them. Kitchen scullions tread to the tables, grappling platters half there size of succulent, roasted boars.
Malcolm leaned his head down to Bethoc's ear. “This will be the last time you shall sup on pork, sav
e for when we return each Samhain.”
“Ah. I had forgotten. It will be raw fish from this day on.” Bethoc patted her stomach as she smiled. “I say, I will eat my full this day.”
“No doubt there will be plentiful fare for all.”
Donald nodded at Malcolm's words then turned his head toward Kenneth. “Brother, ‘it's a kingly feast indeed.”
“Eat hardy and drink until you are merry.” Kenneth raised his cup to his lips and took a long, slow draw of smooth, mellow ale.
True to her word, Bethoc devoured a joint of thick juicy boar, a roasted leg of stag, goose eggs, and a goose breast. Though she didn't completely finish any of the portions, she did take more than a few bites of each. Then washed it all down with a cup of ale.
A lanky bard, cradling a golden harp in his arms, stepped forward. His bright, plaid cloak was so long it dragged across the stone floor as he strolled through the hall, coming at a stand till in front of the dais. Bethoc and Malcolm leaned back in their chairs as the bard harped and carped both Scottish and Pictish tunes. This performance signaled it was time for the servants to bring forth the favored treat. Two serving boys carried in the king's golden brown cake, coated with sweet mead.
As they sat the cake down on the board in front of the king, Bethoc's mouth dropped open.
Malcolm could almost taste the fresh butter and wild honey. “The one thing I shall miss is Riona's cakes. So sweet, it brings a tear to my eye.”
Bethoc took a deep whiff of the sweet, tempting aroma. “Riona pours four spoons full of mead over her cakes.”
After serving Kenneth, Donald, and Malcolm a slice, the serving lad sat a piece of the lush cake before Bethoc. She tore a hunk off the moist, golden slice. Before eating it, she glanced at Malcolm. He shoved a hunk of cake in his mouth, honey icing dribbled down his chin.
On a sigh, Bethoc said, “I shall miss this as a selkie.”
As he swallowed the sweet treat, Malcolm queried. “What shall you miss? Eating cake?”
Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “No. I shall miss doing this.” Bethoc rammed her chunk of cake in Malcolm's face. Laughing, she rubbed it in.
Bethoc licked the mushy remains off her fingers.
With his hands, Malcolm wiped the mashed cake off his face. The entire hall roared with laughter. Bethoc and Malcolm clutched their bellies from chuckling so hard.
After much merriment, drinking and dancing, Malcolm and Bethoc bid farewell to Kenneth and Donald. Tears formed in both brothers’ eyes as they sat at the dais and watched the lovers walk, once and for all, out of the hall.
With their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, Bethoc and Malcolm strode to the edge of the rocky shore.
* * * *
Bethoc slipped her shoes off and wiggled her toes in the soft yet grainy sand. Cool waves lapped at her feet as gulls cawed overhead. The white birds’ long wings flapped in the wind, mingling with the heavy breathing sound of the rolling waves.
Time to leave all she knew behind, to cast her lot with Malcolm for a new and different way of life. She gazed at this man she loved so, and clutched his hand tighter.
“Malcolm, I am ready to leave the land until Samhain.” Her throat tightened and she gulped.
Malcolm took Bethoc into his arms and crushed her hard against his chest. The heat and energy, dynamic as lightening, coursing through his body melted all her apprehension away. Even dressed, she felt his hot flesh pressing her as he held her tight. The heavy sensation in her breasts grew as they rubbed against him and her nipples tightened with need, near pain. His rock hard bulge pressed against her belly. She let out a moan, smothered by his lips, covering hers in a demanding, possessive kiss. She leaned her neck back. He stole her breath as his tongue thrust at her lips, parting them, then plunged into her mouth. Now tight and wet at the apex of her thighs, she opened her mouth wide to the sweet invasion. His tongue swept and swirled in her mouth as hers danced and curled in his. His tongue found hers and they twined and tangled together. He tasted like Riona’s cake, of sweet, wild honey and fresh brewed mead, the flavors of summer, and wild flowers and juicy bursting berries.
She went light headed when their lips gently parted and as she peered into Malcolm’s eyes her mouth still burned.
“Are you sure, you want to do this, Bethoc? I will stay with you on land, if you but ask.”
Her muscles clinched and tiny bubbles burst in the pit of her stomach. “My mind says halt. Yet, my heart says go, live and love in the wild. And so I shall. With you.”
“Afore the transformation takes place, let me make love to you once more, as a man takes a woman.”
“I want that, Malcolm.” To join her body in its human form with Malcolm one last time was a fitting celebration of the new life she would soon embark on.
After peeling off her tunic-dress and under-dress, Bethoc flung the woolen garb on the rock-strewn shore and took a deep breath. In his eagerness, Malcolm nearly tore his tunic as he hastily undressed. After climbing out of his braies, he kicked his boots aside.
Fully nude, they stood before each other on the wet sand as white-foamed waves crashed against the shore. The sea breeze tousled Bethoc's long, unbound hair. As she stepped closer to Malcolm, her eyes feasted on the hard muscles rippling across his chest. Her palms itched to slid across and explore the bare flesh of his warm pulsing body. Scanning his tall figure, broad shoulders, strong thighs, slim hips, she lingered on the sinewy, rigid length of his hard arousal, recalling the smooth, hot sensation of his erection throbbing inside her.
Malcolm took Bethoc's hand in his, and a quiver of heat shot up her arm. She wanted this man. She would always want him, forever and a day. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and waded with her into the shallow of the salty sea.
Ripples of cool water lapped against her ankles. As they walked on with Malcolm, her calves and finally her thighs were submerged in the blue sea.
Malcolm let out a deep chuckle, then turned his back to a rising, rolling, white-capped wave, which crested then crashed above him and Bethoc, soaking them. Her eyes swept appreciatively over his wet, glistening skin. She paused as her gaze fell on his thick, long, phallus. Her womanly center clenched and dampened with desire.
Bethoc moved to his side, and turned her back to the waves as well. Their laughter rose in the wind as the waves tumbled over them and rolled them far from shore. Soon, Bethoc was in the deep part of the sea, treading water. She drew in a long breath of air, then plunged under the surface.
Malcolm dove in after her, gliding by her side underwater. When Bethoc came up to catch her breath, Malcolm tread water at her side. She peered into his dark, lust-filled eyes, knowing the hunger she saw there matched her own. He reached out to her and she jumped into his arms. She gripped his strong shoulders as his moist lips plundered hers in a long, open-mouthed kiss. A blaze of heat spiraled through her.
As her mouth moved over his in deep, heady kisses, she twined her long legs around his waist. The rock-hard bulge of his desire rubbed against her.
Slowly, she ran her hand down to the juncture of Malcolm's muscular thighs. Airily, her fingers brushed against the swollen bulge. He gasped. She spread her slender fingers and gently rolled them around his hard, throbbing shaft. But Malcolm covered her hand with his palm to stop her.
“Not yet,” Malcolm whispered before he pressed his lips to hers.
His tongue dove into her mouth as they bobbed weightless in the water. Bethoc quivered from the soldering heat of the kiss. As he slid his moist tongue in and out of her mouth, she leaned her neck back in response. His hot tongue stroked her mouth until she moaned and quivered.
Bethoc arched her back as his hand dove under and probed the folds of her need. She wanted him to take her. He eased his finger inside her, then drew it out. Briny water slipped in.
His finger descended, pulled out, then plunged in again. Her longing rose to the surface as his fingers moved in and out, probing deeper and deeper with every thrust.
Now, Malcolm. Come inside me, now. Opening her mouth wide, Bethoc sucked in a long, slow gulp of air then tumbled underwater with Malcolm. Her hair floated up like an aura around her head. In the weightlessness of the blue sea, her body was buoyant and free. Her knees bent naturally, her lower body tilted up, open to him, afire with want.
Malcolm wrapped his hands around her legs, binding him to her, so she couldn't drift away. His hand outlined the circle of her breast and slid across her flat belly. Her skin tingled. His fingers skimmed her hips and thighs. From the chill of the water and her burning need, Bethoc’s body reeled with the sensations of both ice and flame.
When he shifted, his hard bulge rubbed against the center of her fire. It hit her like a bolt of lightning. Bethoc gasped as he slid his cock into her warm wet center. Her tight pussy stretched around his hard-as-a-rock erection. Malcolm pulled all the way out. She let out a hiss of breath. He jerked his head back and drove inside her. His powerful rod rushed in and out with the rocking motion of torrent waves.
The ebb and flow of his hard, searing flesh flooded her with liquid heat. He rode her to the crest. Filled to the brim, her inner muscles clamped down, capturing Malcolm's fire. With all her might, she reeled him in deeper and deeper. Her body rocked from an inner explosion as they plunged together to the depth of ecstasy. She trembled spasmodically. A flurry of bubbles burst from her mouth.
Sated, yet still clinging to Malcolm, the two soared to the surface together. Lustily, they gulped for air.
“Malcolm, I want to change. To transform, now,” Bethoc said in a breathy whisper.
As Malcolm held her, he tread water for both of them. “Bethoc, I cannot believe the sacrifice you make for me. Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes, I have never wanted anything more.”
“Bethoc, if you have regrets, we can always return to land. Selkies can live on land, as I have.”
“Yes. We shall return each Samhain, will we not?”
“Indeed, we must keep an eye on Kenneth.”
The Scottish Selkie Page 15