“No’ so tight. Relax,” Abigale said.
As he loosened his grip, Abigale noticed how he looked at her as if asking if he was holding their babe correctly. She smiled back at him as tears streamed down her cheeks.
James’s brows creased in confusion. “Happy tears, aye?”
“Happy tears,” she reassured him.
Abigale scooted over in the bed and motioned for him to come sit.
The bed gave a heavy moan in protest as he sat next to his wife. He leaned back, resting the babe on his chest. His daughter took in a deep breath and let it out as she drifted to sleep. She was an angel.
“See, she likes ye.” Abigale peeked over his massive bicep and touched her daughter’s cheek.
“Aye, I have that effect on the lassies,” he jested.
Abigale smiled and was relieved that James had stayed and wanted to hold his daughter.
James relaxed, as if for the first time all day he was able to breathe again. “Bele ange, I tried to come to ye, to help ye, but...”
“Shhh, I know.” She kissed his bicep and then laid her head down on his shoulder. “I thought perhaps ye were mad at me.”
“What? Abigale, why would ye think such a thing?” The babe fussed from the boisterous noise.
Abigale sat up and soothed her daughter by rubbing her back. “I was afraid that ye were disappointed that we didnae have a son.” She hung her head and peered into her lap. “Ye must admit ye’ve been acting a wee bit strange.”
“Abigale, I could not be more proud of ye than I am right now. I might be a bit nervous.”
His wife gave him a cross glare. A bit nervous, her arse.
“Shite, I will no’ lie. I’m scared as hell.”
“My love, it’s quite understandable to be scared. I am too.”
“Know this, Abigale. I love ye and I’m beyond the moon and stars excited that I have a daughter. We have plenty of time to try again for a son.” He winked at Abigale.
Blushing, Abigale snuggled next to her husband, never lifting her eyes from the babe. It was exactly what she wanted to hear. “So, we need a name for our beautiful daughter.”
At that moment the babe had woken and was staring into her mother’s eyes. Abigale stilled, for she could not move. Her heart melted right there in her chest. She knew those eyes, the same eyes that watched over her. “James, look at her eyes. They’re open.”
As he peered down at her, rich amber eyes stared back at him. A tear formed at the corner of his eye. He was speechless.
“She has yer eyes, love.”
“Aye.”
“I have the perfect name for her. Jaime.”
“Jaime? Dinnae ye want to name her Bonnie?”
“Nay, just one look at her and everyone will know she’s bonny. She looks just like her da. Just look at all that dark hair on her head.” Abigale smoothed over a few strands of hair upon her daughter’s head.
“Then Jaime it will be.” James smiled and kissed wee Jaime on the forehead.
“I think it’s time to let everyone in and do the baptism, aye?” Abigale said.
“Aye.” James moved to get off the bed, when Abigale grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned to face his wife smiling at him. “Thank ye, James Douglas, for giving me Jaime and loving me.”
“Och, lass I’ll give ye many more in due time.” He kissed his wife thoroughly. “I love ye more than ye could ever know, my belle ange.”
Abigale watched the two of them as they made their way to the bedchamber door. Her life felt complete, yet there was a nagging feeling that wouldn’t go away. The feeling that something was missing; her father. She wished her father could be here to meet his granddaughter. Mayhap she would send word to him. It was time she mended those old wounds and let the past be the past.
~~~~~
Instead of the baptism being held at the kirk, James demanded that the priest perform the ritual right here in James’s and Abigale’s bedchamber. The babe was to stay with her mother and not be dragged outside into the cold. Furthermore, he knew his wife would not let the babe out of her sight.
Abigale refused to listen to Alice and stay in bed. She was going to hold her daughter during the ceremony, regardless of her aching body.
As the ceremony started, James and Abigale stood in front of the priest. The babe’s Godparents, Effie and Conall, stood next to Abigale and James. Rory, Magnus and Alice stood off to the side, watching in splendor.
The priest blessed the babe and washed away sin, driving away evil from its body. James knew how important this was to Abigale, for the life of him he couldn’t understand the priest driving away evil from a more-than-pure newborn babe. The world had yet to taint her and he would make damn sure she’d stay like that for the rest of her life.
After the blessing was done, Effie passed Abigale a white woolen infant gown with a small black and red embroidered dragon on it. The image lay right below the neckline, small yet identifiable.
James looked down at the dragon and back up at Abigale. “’Tis for protection. A lass has to be protected, not only by her heavenly father but by her da.”
James smiled and mouthed the words ‘I love ye’.
As the ceremony came to an end, Alice and the Dragonkine warriors congratulated the new parents on their precious gift.
Sneaking up behind Effie, Conall wrapped his arms around her waist as they watched the three of them for a moment.
“They look so happy,” Conall whispered in her ear.
Effie leaned back against his chest. “Aye, they do.” She rubbed her hands over Conall’s as he made small circles over her belly.
He kissed her neck and said, “I can no’ wait to meet our wee one.”
Effie smiled. “Aye, he’ll be just like his da.”
“A boy, aye?”
“I have a feeling.” She shrugged.
HIGHLAND STORM
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“My lord, ye have a visitor.”
Marcus, wrapped in a light brown fur, looked up from the blaze he was staring into. A visitor? Who would have tracked up this god forsaken mountain, furthermore survived the blizzard conditions?
Marcus glared at the creeper in black mail. “Well, who is it?” he said in an irritated tone of voice.
Marcus was now stronger after the Dragonkine female had healed him. His body was restored, his mind was sharp, but most of all there were times he could feel the tiniest spark of his dragon. This gave him hope that maybe he could recover his beast. False hope, perhaps, but nonetheless, hope.
“He would no’ say, lord. Though he seems to be wounded and... ” There was a long pause.
“Well... what?” Marcus raised his voice, shaking the ice crystal stalactites dripping from the ceiling of the cave. His voice echoed, causing the Dragonkine female to cower as she huddled in the corner of the cave, hugging her knees to her chest.
“He’s no’ normal, deformed.” For the lack of better words, the messenger cringed.
Wrapping the fur tighter around his shoulders, Marcus stood. “Well, bring him here.”
“As ye wish, my lord.”
Within minutes, two creepers dragged the visitor by its arms in front of Marcus. Its body was limp and seemed to be not completely human. The lower body had human legs, but it was the upper body that had Marcus and the creepers’ skin crawling.
The visitor struggled to hold its head up. Its body gave way and it fell to its knees. As it picked its head up Marcus took a step back in disgust. The thing had two heads attached to two long slender necks. Christ, one of its heads was dangling off to the side as if it had been broken.
Marcus examined the creature further as he saw its arms. The skin was covered in scales and its hands were talons curled into fists. The damn thing stunk like a dung heap, or more precisely, walking death. Carefully Marcus circled the beast and... the damn thing had a spiked tail like a dragon.
“What the hell are ye?” Marcus said.
“I’m a wyvern.” The
creature spat and coughed.
A two-headed wyvern? Marcus thought. A winged creature with a long neck and a dragon head but much smaller than a dragon. The glistening from its scales caught his attention as he noticed the deformity of its arms. They were long, longer than a normal human’s, yet as he looked closer he caught a glimpse of wings that were tucked against its body. So, this is how it made it up the mountain, it flew, he thought.
Babbling as if struck with insanity, the creature tried to plead its case. “Aye, I fought hard, lord, so hard.” It rocked back and forth on its knees. “I fought to rule over Caerlaverock in the name of King Drest.”
A slight moan escaped the mouth of its other half. “Nay, ye grew greedy. Ye wanted to rule for yerself.” The voice gurgled and spat blood.
“Shut up, ye fool,” the visitor hushed its wounded half.
Marcus bellowed with laughter. “Oh, this is good.” He paused to catch his breath through the laughter. “A two-headed wyvern with a split personality.”
Marcus had no time for the blubbering fool. He had his sights on the holy ground.
“Take it away!” he ordered the two men. “I have no use for a fool, nor the time.” Turning his back on the two-headed beast, Marcus walked back to where the Dragonkine female sat, shaking and huddled in a tight ball.
Digging its feet firmly into the ground, the creature fought to be heard. “My lord, I know who yer enemies be. Dragonkine, aye?”
Marcus stopped abruptly and fell grim.
“My lord, I can help ye fight the Kine.”
Marcus spun around and in three big strides was in the wyvern’s face. “How do ye know about Dragonkine?” Cold breath puffed from Marcus’s lips as he seethed.
The creature trembled at the frigid stare that froze it to its grotesque bones. “One of them broke me neck, lord. I want me revenge just like ye want yers for what the Black Douglas did to ye.”
“Ye didnae answer me question. Guards, off with its head... heads,” Marcus ordered.
“Wait... wait.” The wyvern struggled. “I know magic that can kill their dragons. Trust in me, my lord, Ye will have victory and revenge if ye allow me to live. Heal me and ye shall see what I’m capable of,” it begged and pleaded.
Marcus didn’t quite know what to do. Surely, he didn’t trust this beast, nor like it. The creepers were his army and when the time was right he would unleash them into death dragons and destroy anyone who got in his way. Therefore he couldn’t risk taking on a wounded fool creature to spoil his plan. Yet, a part of him, some dark and twisted part, wanted the Kine to suffer for expelling his dragon and banishing him from Scotland. Perhaps it would be useful after all.
“Who are ye?”
“Me name is Tavish Max...” he corrected himself, “Tavish Black, me lord. I come to serve ye.” He snarled and bowed his head.
HIGHLAND STORM
EPILOGUE
The entourage of menacing evil sat on horseback, peering down on the village of Helmfirth, considering the best plan of attack. An easy task, nay, but one they’d follow through with.
The laird there was well known and rumored to practice barbaric battle tactics. Brutal-natured, savage people were the company he kept. These rogue warriors fought beside the chief, defending their lands and homes against anyone, friend or foe, who dared to test their strength upon them. The laird ran a tight ship, even slaying his own warriors when one became out of line. Mercy was something he never showed.
As Marcus and his men-at-arms, if that was what you could call them, sat on horseback, the creature next to Marcus spoke up. “Lord, they won’t even know what hit them.” He gleamed a wee bit brighter than Marcus could stomach.
The village seemed to be busy about its day; a woman hung wet clothes on a drying line just outside her home while a younger lass washed tunics and trews. A group of men unloaded a cart full of freshly slaughtered meat into the butcher’s shop. It looked to be a good payday for the man. Too bad they wouldn’t live to spend it. Marcus grinned at that thought.
Children of all ages ran about the town playing and chasing one another, avoiding their daily chores. A group of wee lassies held hands and danced around in a circle singing, “Hush ye, Hush ye, before the Black Douglas gets ye.” Mayhap he would save these girls, for they would make perfect slaves. Marcus pondered that idea.
These simple folk had no idea what was about to happen to their safe little world.
“Aye, Tavish,” Marcus concurred.
The Dragonkine female sat behind Marcus in disgust of what she was hearing, yet she wouldn’t dare voice her opinion.
Although Marcus was completely healed and his army was ready for battle, he still needed to get his timing right. He wasn’t a fool. In fact, only Marcus fully understood how difficult the siege would be. The laird kept a tight defense on the stronghold, with a few hefty armed men. The outer fortress enclosed their land brick by secured brick. And if he heeded the rumored words, traps were laid inside and out of the keep’s walls.
A lookout tower stood tall and showed brightly against the blue sky. But he wasn’t fooled by the innocent gleam the tower radiated. Nay, not when he saw the reaction of the town folk scurrying to move out of the way when a group of men on horseback approached the village square. The people bowed their heads as the men rode through.
The men were kilted and heavily armed with broadswords and battle axes. Their hair was long and messy, their knees were dirty, and dominance shone heavy in their eyes. Their warhorses were just as intimidating, as they pawed at the earth waiting for the rest of the clansmen to catch up with them.
With folks on either side of them, a hooded form on horseback rode straight up the middle of this spectacle, parting the sea of people even more, its massive size alone dominating the surroundings. No one muttered a word, nor moved.
Marcus’s jaw ticked. The rumors are true, he thought.
The deep dappled-gray horse stopped in front of the group, antsy for battle. A goshawk as big as a buzzard was perched on the cloaked figure’s broad shoulder and complemented his size. Even though the hawk was unhooded, it rested without distress as its fierce red eyes searched the crowd.
The menace removed its hood and revealed its identity. The town folk instantly bowed. With the extra height of his horse, the man looked as if he could reach the heavens, as he had to be over seven feet tall. His appearance alone confirmed the rumors to be truth: rich brown, dominating eyes, red hair worn short with matching facial hair that intensified his strong masculine jawline, a chest broad with brawn, and legs that looked as if they were carved from tree trunks hugged around the horse’s girth.
Aye, an impressive duo, Marcus mused.
The man peered into the crowd and not a one of them would look him in the eye. Not only did he look menacing, he dominated without even saying a word. Even from the high vantage point where Marcus sat, he could feel the wickedness of his authority.
Too bad such a fine specimen of a warrior would have to die, Marcus mused. It seemed wasteful.
“My lord.” A creeper interrupted Marcus from the performance he had just witnessed.
“Do we attack now?”
Well, wasn’t that the interesting question of the day? Marcus had not heeded the rumors until he witnessed it for himself. Perhaps he had bitten off more than he could chew. Aye, this would take some time and well thought out strategic planning before he committed to his attack.
His destiny lay only a village away from the holy land and awaking his king. There was no time, nor excuses. He had to bring forth King Drest, but making a mistake when his prize was close at hand would only set him back and for that he must wait.
“Nay. We make camp,” Marcus said and turned his horse away from the cliff. No one was going to stop him from making it to the holy land. He needed time to think, because right now he was in shock from the mere presence of what he had just seen; the Red Hawk of Helmfirth.
ABOUT VICTORIA ZAK
Victoria Zak is an interna
tionally bestselling author in Scottish Historical Paranormal Romance. Her first book, Highland Burn, was a runner up for the 2015 RONE award for best paranormal romance.
Growing up in the sister city to Stirling, Scotland, Sottish flare was abundant throughout Dunedin. From her High School band to the annual Highland Games that took place right across the street from her childhood home, the bagpipes beckoned her toward her calling. It seemed only natural for Victoria Zak to want to write in the Scottish historical romance genre. Add to the fact, she was also a paranormal romance junkie, there was no doubt that her influences would be the driving force behind her stories.
Although, she never sought out a writing career, her desire for the written word grew the more she read. Her love for Scotland, curiosity of history, and passion for romance has inspired her to write the first two books of her Guardians of Scotland Series, Highland Burn and Highland Storm. The third book in the series, Highland Fate will be released in 2015.
Now, Victoria Zak lives in the sunshine state with her husband, two beautiful children, and three furry friends. Living in paradise, being a stay at home mom, and to be able to share her stories has been a blessing.
Victoria loves to hear from her readers. You can connect with her through the links below:
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THE DRAGON AND THE DREAMWALKER
BOOK 1: FIRE
ELEMENTAL SERIES
ELIZABETH ROSE
COPYRIGHT
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Tall, Dark, and Medieval Page 20
