She and Brodie had decided not to travel to the Port of Zeila with them. Now that Zala was with child, she wanted only to be at home with her husband in their own house. Instead, she had prepared several missives for her grandmother the Queen. Zala wanted her to know she was happy and safe, and someday she would make the long journey with her family.
***
Epilogue
1044 - Fletcher Manor, Scotland
“Thorfinn Kato Fletcher, you put that axe down now!” Zala was glaring at her son with her hands on her hips. He was a miniature version of his father, baby battle axe included.
“Iza hit me wif awow!” He bellowed, speaking almost unintelligibly Zala tried to decipher his meaning.
“I din hit ye!” Screamed his twin sister.
“Izara Amelia Fletcher, did you hit your brother with an arrow?” Zala scowled at her.
“No, I missed,” her daughter said.
“Bloody hell, what is all this shouting? Can’t a man get any sleep in his own house?” Brodie joined the chaos. He looked disheveled, red-rimmed eyes shirtless and wearing only his plaid. Zala thought her husband was the handsomest man in the Highlands, especially when bare chested.
Brodie walked straight over to his daughter and removed the bow and arrow she was wielding. “You willna have these again until you learn to take care.”
Then he stormed over to his son and took the battle axe away from him. “And you’ll not have this again until you can wield it wisely.”
He placed the weapons on top of a shelf, then bent to the same level as his children and gathered them together. “These weapons are to be used to protect one another. Never use them on each other, understand?”
Both children nodded, then flung themselves at their father, who gave them a bear hug. Brodie then picked them up, one in each arm. “Tis time for breakfast.”
He carried them to the kitchens and placed them at the table as cook started fussing over them.
He then returned to Zala, and kissed her cheek, whispering in her ear, “I’ve arranged for Amelia to take the bairns for the day after they break their fast.”
“Why?” she asked.
“So, we can get busy making some more.” He winked at her.
“And what game do you suggest we play this time, Brodie Fletcher?” Zala replied in a sultry voice.
“I was thinking we could play the Bear eats the Huntress and then the Huntress climbs the Bear.”
An hour and a half later they played many games for the rest of the day until they collapsed sated in each other’s arms.
***
Dalziel
Dalziel watched the spectacle before him. It was May Day celebrations, and happy families surrounded him. The Clan gathered around the Loch as long trestle tables brimmed with platters of food and beverages as people celebrated the first day of Spring. There was dancing and singing and laughter. The Clan had survived another harsh winter and were now enjoying the fruits of spring.
Dalziel was glad that his two brothers in arms had found the love and fulfilment they deserved with women worthy of their love.
Although it reminded him of how solitary his life had become of late. In his line of work, he could not afford to get attached to any woman beyond physical need. He thought about the mission he had for the King and clenched his jaw. He gripped his cup of cider as he stared out into the distance.
“Why so broody? Tis a celebration to be enjoyed,” Sorcha said.
“If only.” Dalziel replied and smiled at her.
A messenger interrupted them with a missive. Dalziel studied the parchment. It had come from his trusted contact Mr Arrowsmith another of Macbeth’s spies who twilight'd as a bowyer in Northumbria.
Dalziel clenched his jaw when he read, “Lady Clarissa seen in the company of unknown French man.”
“What is it?” Beiste asked carrying his two, month old son, Dalziel Brodie MacGregor.
“I need to leave now,” Dalziel said.
“You cannot leave before they light the bonfire,” Amelia said. Disgruntled that a member of the family was leaving the festivities so soon.
“There is trouble brewing at my estate in Anglia.”
“What kind of trouble? Do you need me to come with you?” Brodie piped in holding a sleeping Izara.
“No, tis more of a delicate matter.”
“How so?” Zala asked, concern marring her features as she tried to stop little Thorfinn from poking his finger in all the cakes.
“Tis my wife,” Dalziel said.
They all looked surprised. “You have a wife?” They cried in unison.
“Och ye sly fox…” Morag chuckled.
“How could you not tell us you have a wife?” Jonet looked most displeased.
“Aye, we should meet her now that she is family,” Sorcha said.
“Tis in name only. We were pledged last summer.”
They were all quiet, not knowing what to say in response to his statement. They knew Dalziel held a lot of secrets, but this was by far the biggest one.
“Is she well?” Amelia asked whilst keeping an eye on Colban and Iona dancing around the maypole with other children.
“Aye, she is well, but I need to remind her who she belongs to.” Dalziel growled.
***
1044—Dalziel’s Estate, Northumbria
Dalziel arrived close to midnight. He had ridden hard through thundering rain all the way from Scotland.
He arrived unannounced. The element of surprise was always a good way to discover what was really going on. From the way the servants scurried around like frightened mice at his appearance made him glad he did.
He stormed inside the main foyer and was accosted by the butler, Mr Bell and his housekeeper Mrs Armstrong.
“My Lord! We were not expecting you tonight. Is everything all right?” Mrs Armstrong asked as Mr Bell took his sodden coat and handed him a towel to dry his hair.
“Aye, I am sorry I did not call ahead, but some urgent business had me returning early. Where is Lady Clarissa?” Dalziel asked calmly.
“She is…” Mr Bell looked at Mrs Armstrong. They looked nervous.
“Not in my Lord,” Mrs Armstrong said.
“What do you mean she is not in? Tis almost midnight?” Dalziel said.
He turned to Mr Bell, awaiting a response. He saw two maids and three male servants in the background hovering.
“Lady Clarissa is attending a ball.” Mr Bell stated.
“Which one? I ken no such balls happening tonight.” Dalziel asked sounding calm although inside he was not feeling it.
Dalziel could see the servants were uncomfortable. But he had done his research beforehand and there were no balls happening within the shire which would warrant his wife being out in this inclement weather.
Mr Bell cast a nervous glance at Mrs Armstrong, who subtly shrugged her shoulders. Both seemingly at a loss for words.
Dalziel knew they were hiding something even the maids were complicit. If he found out his wife was cuckolding him, he would lose his mind.
Without another word, he walked up the flight of stairs and began opening every single door, thinking he may find her with a lover.
The more he searched, the angrier he became, which was so out of character for him. He never allowed anger or any emotion to dictate his behavior.
Dalziel was standing on the landing above the main entrance when the main doors flew open and a figure came marching in with confident strides.
Then he heard her voice. Dalziel stilled and looked down at the grand entranceway.
“Bugger me, Cecil!” she said, taking off her coat. “The weather is cold out. Damn near froze my tits off! But look…” she fished something out of her pocket and gave it to Mrs Armstrong. “I won it back! Alright… I admit I cheated, but they stole it so in this case two wrongs make a right.”
Dalziel stared at the woman in the moon's light and it was as if he was staring down at a… stranger. She had his wife’s voice, but
that was where the resemblance ended.
Underneath the coat, she wore men's clothes. Trews, shirt, cap and flat boots. If anyone was looking from afar, they would think she was a lad.
She reached up and pulled off the cap a riot of auburn curls spilled out; she was wet, and her clothes clung to every aspect of her body. She kept talking, wringing out her hair as the servants handed her towels. All subtly gesturing for Clarissa to be quiet.
He wondered who this strange woman was who could garner the loyalty of his staff? What was this manner of dress and speech? This was not the prim, dull wallflower he had married. That female was a paragon of propriety and boring pursuits and rarely spoke a word… but this… this woman was something else entirely.
Mr Bell cleared his throat, trying to give Clarissa warning signals, but she carried on oblivious. “Oh, before I forget, I’ve sent word that no one heads to the Cove tonight. Tis especially dangerous where they’ve stored the—.”
“Mistress! We have company.” Mrs Armstrong practically scream-shouted over her.
Clarissa stopped drying her hair and asked, “At this hour? Who is it?”
Dalziel moved down the staircase, trying to keep his fury in check.
She must have sensed his approach because she spun around in shock and gasped when she saw him.
Dalziel took in her lush, wet figure and her flushed face and stalked towards her.
The wolf within him unleashed with a feral need to claim. When he was standing directly in front of her, he stared into her emerald eyes and in a lethal voice said, “Hello wife… where have you been?”
***
The End
Dalziel & Clarissa’s story is up next …
Books By This Author
Betrothed to the Beast: Reformed Rogues Book 1
Awarded a B.R.A.G Medallion for Romance/Historical Fiction.
Highland Chieftain Beiste MacGregor is a ruthlessly ambitious warrior with the viciousness of a beast. He has little interest in women beyond the bedchamber. On order of the Red King he reluctantly travels with his men to the Lowlands to formalize a Betrothal to a woman from clan Dunbar. He is not prepared for the troublesome but striking clan healer he meets on the way, who not only infuriates him but stirs something deep within his soul.
Amelia Dunbar is a clan healer and the illegitimate daughter of the Earl of Dunbar. When she is not serving as a Companion to her half sister, she is tirelessly attending to the sick in her clan. Amelia has plans to find her mother's people in the Highlands and is about to embark on her journey when she is waylaid by the arrival of fearsome warriors. One warrior they call ‘the Beast’, rouses her ire and sets her heart racing at the same time.
Warning: Possessive brawny alpha males ahead. Some adult content, situations and occasional historical inaccuracies.
Star Struck: Short Fiction
This is a short scifi romance.
Wallflower Livi Star hates attending balls. In particular, the Sevinare Ball where Empirical families forge marriage alliances. A modern-day version of the marriage mart where women compete for the attention of eligible bachelors. It's 4015, for goodness’ sake! Unfortunately, Livi lives in Appletini, an old-fashioned planet named after a 1996 cocktail. If only she could find a man who didn’t care what she did for a living.
Commander Lucas Zoran hates attending singles balls. In particular, the Sevinare Ball. As a military strategist for the Emperor, he's spent years trying to dodge the machinations of marriage-minded women. Unfortunately, his status attracts the worst attention. If only he could find a woman who likes him for himself.
Outback Casanova: Flash-Fiction
This is a romantic flash-fiction story set in rural Australia.
Soulmates Dave and Celia Walters are headed for divorce. Their separation is compounded by a Personals ad Dave placed in the local paper seeking a new woman.
Acknowledgement
Thank you for reading this book and supporting an independent author.
A year ago, I would never have imagined I would be publishing my own novels and that people would actually read them. I feel blessed to have this opportunity to share my stories in my own way.
If you enjoyed the book, please leave a rating and/or join my mailing list if you want to stay updated about upcoming books. https://elinaemerald.com/
About The Author
Elina Emerald
Elina was born in the South Pacific and grew up in a small Australian country town. After graduating from University, she embarked on a short-lived legal career before writing love songs and touring with an indie band. She travelled the world. She developed a penchant for researching medieval world history and now writes Historical, Contemporary and Sci-fantasy Romance novels.
To contact Elina or sign up for her newsletter please visit https://elinaemerald.com/
Afterword
Orla was initially a minor character in Book 1. However, as I am learning with my writing process, the characters determine their significance in my books, not me. By the time I was midway through writing the first book, Orla had risen from a minor character to someone worthy of her own story.
Because I had already mentioned she was mixed raced with darker skin, I had locked myself into a worldwide medieval tour of epic proportions. The question I started with was how did a woman of color end up in the Scottish Highlands during the reign of the Red King?
For me, the logical place to begin was the Orkney Isles, which were annexed by Norway and became a key trading point along the Viking western route during medieval times. This led me to one of the greatest and most powerful Jarl’s of Orkney, Thorfinn Sigurdsson (from the Orkneyinga Saga which outlines the history of the Earls of Orkney) also known as ‘Thorfinn the Mighty’ and ‘Thorfinn the Black.’
They described him as a big dark brutish and extremely ‘ugly’ man. I fell in love instantly because he reminded me of the complex Edward Rochester in Bronte’s Jane Eyre. My imagination soared, and knowing nothing else about him, I decided he was Orla’s father and that was it.
The struggle I had with the Orkney Isles and Shetland and Norway was in trying to capture the dialect. Norn language was spoken in the Orkneys during this period and it was a bit difficult.
Next, I needed to figure out who Orla’s mother was and how she ended up with Orla’s father and as I traced possible Viking routes… before I knew it; I had stumbled upon the most amazing history about medieval Warrior Queens from Cush and Abyssinia. I’m talking really bad-ass women who not only ruled sovereign over vast expansive regions, they destroyed empires twice their size and kept enemies at bay with sheer military might and strategy. They were feared and revered.
Queen Yodit Gudit is just one notable historical figure reigning sovereign over a region which covered Abyssinia to Yemnat (Ethiopia to Yemeni). There is a lot of contention around whether she really was a rebel queen or a legitimate successor to the throne. She is a controversial figure. One interesting thing about her is she apparently single-handedly destroyed the Aksumite (Axumite) Empire (not sure if that was a good thing). Aksum is an empire we know very little about today because there are not enough historical records left from that era except some highly advanced coins (possible conclusion, Gudit destroyed everything on her warpath).
However, one notable historical figure from Aksum is The Queen of Sheba mentioned in 1 Kings of the Old Testament of the Bible. She sought the wisdom of King Solomon, and he gave her everything she wanted in return. Rumor has it they had a son together, and the Ark of the Covenant (a chest containing the Ten Commandments) is hidden in the city of Aksum. In the book of Philippians in the New Testament of the Bible, there is mention of an Ethiopian eunuch who served as treasurer to an Ethiopian Queen. But I digress, the point is you can find a lot of ancient references and scholarly articles on warrior queens from these regions.
What I found interesting from a sociological perspective is what little exposure Black History receives when we talk about medieval times. The med
ieval period did not just happen in the UK and Britain and “Western” nations. It existed worldwide and notable medieval warriors and Royal houses existed across the world. This compelled me to write a bit of this history into Book 2. Not because I’m on some crusade to educate the masses, or romanticize my ideal medieval world, it’s because it’s interesting history.
Now, I feel the need to talk about Rognvald Brusisson and his father Brusi Sigurdsson, Thorfinn’s half-brother. They were by most accounts’ great men. Brusi was a peacemaker and popular and well liked, and he had a kind disposition. He also took care of Orkney and Shetland Isles often because Thorfinn was away on raids across Alba. In a nutshell, Thorfinn kills Brusi his half-brother and Rognvald his nephew over territory and other points of contention. Thorfinn also had two sons with Ingibiorg who take over as Earls of Orkney. I just want to mention in these notes I think Brusi and his son Rognvald got the short end of the stick. They should have been left in peace to rule their territories but in the end, they were outplayed by a master strategist.
Right, I think that’s enough history for one sitting. I need to save something for the next book.
Thanks again for reading.
Elina x
Handfasted to the Bear: Reformed Rogues Book 2 Page 17