The Scottish Selkie

by Cornelia Amiri (Celtic Romance Queen)

  Bethoc let out a soft chortle of laughter.

  Malcolm chuckled, then pulled her to him, claiming a tender kiss.

  Bethoc looked into his dark eyes, gleaming with love. “I am ready.”

  “Come then.” With Malcolm's hand in hers, he led her to shore where his pelt lay hidden.

  * * * *

  “I want to watch your transformation.” She rubbed her toes in the sand.

  “You will, to give you another chance to decide if you want to go with me. Watching a selkie change afore their eyes would scare most humans.”

  She spread her bare feet in a warrior stance, bold as ever. “Not I.”

  He laughed. “I doubt anything can scare you, my wild Pict princess.” He crushed her to him, reclaiming her lips. Her mouth was so warm and moist. Malcolm didn't want the kiss to end, but he had to let go.

  He stepped back, smiled at her, then took a deep breath, ready for the transformation. His gaze lingered on Bethoc. Just having her at his side made shape-shifting easier. Malcolm pulled his pelt from under the rock where he had hidden it. Loosely, he covered his nude body with the skin.

  Taking heavy breaths, he plunged into the change. His muscles rippled, bugled, pumped, and squeezed. Malcolm's body pulsated with an inner heat which spread to every joint and bone as he fell into a wild spasm. Molten heat flowed through him, then cooled to a warm, glowing sensation. His usual long, brawn body now stood before her as a heavy bull seal.

  “Beautiful.” Bethoc dropped to her knees in the sand, and wrapped her arms around his sleek, muscular body. Her flesh tingled from the warmth of his touch as he patted her smooth back with his velvet-soft flipper.

  He barked, calling out to her. Bethoc released Malcolm and followed him into the sea. She splashed in the water until it was deep enough to dive. Rather than plunging under, she climbed onto Malcolm's back. Straddling him, she laid down with her breast against his slick back. He breathed in the sweet scent of her and relished the sensation of her warm, soft flesh against his pelt as she rode him. With her smooth, slender arms wrapped around him, he glided through the salty waves, heading out to the deep.

  Malcolm's heart pulsated with love for this wild, spirited woman. He barked to let her know it was time—time for Bethoc to hark to the call of the sea. The land would loosen its hold upon her. Like Malcolm, she would walk between two worlds as one of the blessed fey, moving in and out of the realms of earth and water.

  “Yes, I am ready Malcolm.” Her knees jabbed into his side as her body braced for the descent.

  He took a long breath. She clung to his back as he dove deep into the dark sea. Thrusting his body forward, Malcolm lunged deeper into the ocean. When he felt her body fall limp across his back, a jab of grief cut through him. She was at the juncture.

  Bethoc could not stop now. Her body would transform and change, awakening animal instincts within her as she embarked on a wild and exotic lifestyle. A new beginning.

  Large, dark selkies swam to them and circled the couple. Glowing white auras encircled their bulky bodies. Malcolm was filled with joy at the power and love they granted his wife, the boon of life as a selkie. He turned over so Bethoc faced him as he held her still body in his flippers.

  He whispered soft, mewing sounds in her ear as the shape-shifting began. Bethoc's flesh rippled as the bones and muscles pulled and pushed. She writhed in an uncontrollable spasm. Then with one last inner thrust her body relaxed.

  She was a fully formed seal. Malcolm gazed at her long, sleek body so soft and warm in his flippers. At that instant, Bethoc was filled with life once more. She blinked open her large onyx eyes.

  * * * *

  She recalled clinging to Malcolm's neck as he plunged into the deep sea. Her whole body had tingled, then gone numb. Her insides had constricted as if the breath had been squeezed out of her. She had quivered from an inner chill. But when she opened her eyes, her entire body pulsated with rapt joy.

  A warm glow of heat began inside her chest and spread to every pore of her being. She gazed up into Malcolm's dark eyes. He was holding her. She didn't want to leave his embrace. She belonged with him. Bethoc pressed her nose to his. Then they rubbed their whiskered faces against each other.

  A group of dark seals, selkies, Bethoc thought, who had gathered around them, now swam away, gliding off into the sea to give Malcolm and her the privacy they needed.

  Malcolm and Bethoc's bellies rubbed against each other as they shot through the water. They breached the surface with a large splash. Gazing into each other's eyes, they sucked in the salt scented air. Bethoc let out a raspy growl of unbridled pleasure.

  Bethoc and Malcolm ducked their dark heads under the waves and swam away, side by side.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eight months later On Samhain, 844 AD

  The moon rose over the sea as two seals darted through the water, side by side. Dusk fell and moonlight rippled on the waves as they slunk onto the rock-strewn shore. Each let out a rasping bark and lovingly rubbed their wet noses together.

  Lying side-by-side on the sand, still and quiet, their liquid, onyx eyes held a glazed, trance-like look. Their dark bodies began to quiver. The seals’ black fur puckered and bugled. From tail-fin to head, they shook in an uncontrollable spasm. Slowly, the bones and muscles fell into place. They changed before each other's eyes into their human forms.

  Malcolm rubbed his face. “Glad I am to be rid of those whiskers.” Turning toward Bethoc, he raked his eyes down her long, nude body. The sleek curve of her thigh enthralled him still, with the blue tattoos of beast pricked on her smooth skin in the way of the Picts, but the round swell of her stomach mesmerized him the most. This is where his gaze lingered. “Fare you well?” Malcolm asked as he wrapped his arm around her and gently patted her belly.

  “Yes. I am but tired after the long swim.” She pressed her lips to his in a warm, sweet kiss.

  He raised his mouth and gazed at her with an expression of wonderment. After sharing a smile, she eased out of his arms. Her hair blew about her face, lightly slapping her cheeks and tickling her skin.

  “Why does Samhain have to fall so near winter? It is as cold on land as it is in the sea.” Hugging her arms to her, Bethoc rubbed her shoulders to lessen the chill of the coastal breeze.

  “In truth. But we are here now.”

  “Yes. It has been a long time since we walked on shore.” Bethoc wiggled her toes in the soft sand.

  “But tonight we come for more than the wild, free merriment of Samhain.”

  “Yes, much more.” She gazed down at her belly as a warm glow flowed through her.

  “Bethoc, you have made me so happy.” Malcolm's smile widened as he gazed into her green eyes. “My lady wife.”

  She reached up and lovingly brushed a strand of dark auburn hair away from his face. “In truth, I am a wee bit fearful.”

  Cupping her hands in his, Malcolm leaned his head down and softly kissed her puffy fingers. “I shall not leave your side.”

  Bethoc sighed. “It will not be long.”

  “No.” He wrapped his arm over her shoulder. “But first I need to find us some clothes.”

  “Yes. We cannot walk into Scone bare as newborn babes.”

  “Not the parents to be.” Malcolm let out a soft chuckle.

  After burying their skins under a black boulder, they walked across the sand, taking care to avoid the scattered rocks. Malcolm brushed away a wad of seaweed with this toes. Upon hearing a man's voice, they came to a sudden stop.

  “I thought you might need these.”

  “Bethoc, hasten, hide behind me,” Malcolm whispered.

  To cover her nudeness, she slid behind him.

  “Donald, is that you?” Malcolm peered into the dark of night, trying to make out the shadowy form approaching them.

  “Hail cousin.” Donald stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. “I have garments for you.”

  “And I have garb for Lady Bethoc,” Riona said as she
walked up behind Donald.

  “Did you follow me, lass?” Donald asked the steward’s daughter.

  “Mayhaps.” Riona's mouth curved into a bemused smile.

  “Riona, it is you.” Bethoc's head peaked out from behind Malcolm. “Malcolm is not dressed. Close your eyes.”

  Riona's cheeks flushed to a dark, rosy tone as she shut her eyes.

  “Donald, toss me my braies.” Malcolm caught them in his hand and pulled them on. Then he joined Donald, politely turning his back to the ladies.

  “Riona, you can open your eyes now.” Bethoc strode up to her friend.

  She turned her gaze on Bethoc. Her brows arched and her lips parted in shock. She sucked in a swoosh of breath. “M'lady!”

  Bethoc placed one finger on her lips, gesturing her to be quiet. “We want Kenneth to be the first or at least to think he is the first to know.”

  “But you are so far along.” Riona’s eyes were wide with surprise.

  “Yes.” Bethoc flashed a knowing smile.

  Riona's mouth dropped open. “This eve? Samhain eve?” Riona’s gaze met hers as they shared a warm smile. “Oh, m'lady.” Riona slammed her hand against her own chest, right above her heart. “A babe born on Samhain is truly blessed. The child will have second sight for certain.”

  “Yes. My bairn is blessed.” Bethoc brushed her fingers down her belly as she gazed upon the swollen bulge with love. She held one finger to her lips again. “Do not tell Donald.”

  “No.” Riona set the pile of clothes down on the moonlit shore. Picking up a tunic dress, she slipped it over Bethoc's head and gently pulled the fabric down to cover her. “I am glad I brought a baggy one. Your old garments would not have fit.”

  Bethoc picked up the bratt and shook it as bits of sand scattered in the wind. Wrapping the plaid cloak around Bethoc's shoulders, Riona pinned it with a round, gold brooch. “This bulky bratt will keep your condition hidden until you are ready to reveal your secret.”

  “My thanks, Riona.” Bethoc nodded her head toward Donald and Malcolm, who still had their backs turned. “I am finished.”

  After Malcolm pulled a tunic on over his head, he and Donald spun around to face the ladies.

  Malcolm strode toward Bethoc. “You cannot walk all the way to Scone.”

  “I am fine.” Bethoc placed her hand on her hip.

  But Malcolm scooped her up in his arms. Riona and Donald walked at his side, toward the dark cloud of smoke from the Samhain bonfire.

  Bethoc turned her gaze from the meandering Tay River to her husband's handsomely rugged face as they neared the walled city of Scone. She basked in the warmth of his embrace as he carried her. Together they had made a child. Soon a new life would come into the world. The flesh of their flesh.

  They passed the out-lying huts where hides hung out to dry from the autumn slaughter. She thought of feasting on beef and mutton from the slaughter as well as stag and boar from the hunts the men took part in for Samhain. Bethoc could almost taste the juicy, fire-spitted meat on her tongue. She had abstained from all fare except fish for too long.

  “Do you feel well?” The warmth shining in Malcolm's eyes softened his features.

  Bethoc smiled up at him. “I am hale and hearty, Malcolm.” She looked ahead as the gates of Scone opened.

  The air was filled with an exuberant din of singing, chattering, and further Samhain merriment. Her child would be born on this day, which fell betwixt the old and new year. A day without time.

  Malcolm grinned at Bethoc as he carried her through the city streets. “A selkie, a Scot, a Pict, and born on Samhain; this will be a special child.”

  “A child like no other.” Bethoc cupped her stomach as Malcolm took her to the same hill Kenneth was crowned on just eight months ago.

  “Our child.” She gently patted her belly. “Are you ready to be born, sweetling,” she whispered to the new life within her. “It’s time for you to come out,” Bethoc cooed to the unborn babe as Malcolm bore her uphill to the tall, blazing fire.

  Long branches were piled upright and set aflame. Smoke was thick and the smell of ale hung in the air. Bethoc noticed a crowd of people gathered around one man. Malcolm set Bethoc on her feet and as they stood next to the bonfire, she heard several men in the crowd.

  “It is the selkie, Malcolm.”

  “The king's own cousin and his fey mate have come for Samhain.”

  “We will truly be blessed.”

  “Yes, there are selkies among us.”

  “Brother, we have guests for Samhain,” Donald called out.

  The man who seemed the center of attention waved and yelled, “Hail Malcolm. Welcome, Lady Bethoc.” The crowd parted to let the king pass.

  “Good to see you.” Bethoc felt a warm glow in her heart as she gazed at Kenneth. Until seeing her friends again, she hadn't known how much she’d missed them.

  Malcolm leaned his head back and took a long, assessing look at his cousin. “You have not changed Kenneth.”

  “No. I am the same man.” He grinned at Malcolm and slapped him on the back. “And you look hale, but for Lady Bethoc.” Kenneth bent his head down to hers and pressed a soft kiss upon her cheek. “You seem tired m'lady. Do you need to rest?”

  “No. I am fine.” Bethoc flashed a knowing look at Malcolm.

  He smiled back at her. Kenneth would soon find out why she looked tired. It was time to tell him. “We have tidings for you, Kenneth.” Malcolm wrapped his arm around Bethoc.

  “Yes, good news indeed,” Bethoc added in a cheery tone.

  “In truth?” Kenneth's green eyes twinkled.

  “Yes.” Malcolm glanced at Bethoc who nodded, then he turned back to Kenneth. “We shall not be leaving Scone for a long time. We are staying on land for the next thirteen years.”

  “Do you mean it?” Kenneth leaned in closer to them.

  “It is so.” Bethoc wrapped her arms around her belly.

  “It is good tidings, in truth.” Donald patted Malcolm heartily on the back.

  “Thirteen years?” Kenneth muttered as his eyebrows rose in a high slant and his jaw dropped. “A selkie child does not transform until his thirteenth year.”

  Malcolm nodded.

  “Do you mean to say you are with child?” Donald's eyes widened.

  “Yes. So I am.” Bethoc felt buoyant, having shared her good news with her friends.

  “We are having a baby.” Malcolm grinned.

  With a shrug, Kenneth threw his hands up. “When is the bairn due?”

  Bethoc opened her mouth and let out a hard scream.

  “It would seem my wife's time ... is at hand.” Malcolm tightened his hold on her.

  Kenneth glanced at Riona, who stood quietly by during the conversation. “Riona, I command you to do something. Lady Bethoc is in pain.”

  Malcolm leaned his head down to his wife. “Is the babe coming?”

  “I know not, but I have to go to the privy.”

  “I will carry you there.” Gently he lifted her into his arms.

  “Malcolm, follow me,” Riona said. “I will show you to the privy.”

  Kenneth led the crowd into a procession around the bonfire, circling it nine times while reciting a chant of old. He included the health of Malcolm's and Bethoc's babe in his request of blessings for the New Year.

  As Riona led Bethoc and Malcolm away from the fire, she called to Donald, “Bring the midwife.”

  The three entered the palace and went down the long hall, lighted by torches set in iron sconces.

  “Here is the privy.” Riona pointed to a wooden door.

  After Malcolm set his wife down, she entered the smelly room and shut the door. Bethoc noticed the waste she expelled didn't have the odor it always had before. The flow was odd as well. She had never held so much water before. It had gushed out. “Burst,” she muttered under her breath. “Ah, my water has broken.”

  A sensation of rapture and bliss floated from the pit of her belly to the top of her heart. She couldn't
recall ever feeling so joyful. She felt buoyant, floating, reminiscent of when she walked on clouds in a wound-fever dream.

  “My baby.” Bethoc patted her belly in a fluttery motion. She lowered her head so her lips almost touched her belly. “Are you ready to come little one? I cannot wait to see you. My sweetling.” She sighed as she remembered Malcolm. “I must tell Malcolm the bairn is coming now.”

  Rising from the privy seat, she smoothed her tunic dress down around her. Bethoc unpinned her bratt, folded it across her arm, and closed her fingers around the brooch in the palm of her hand. Upon opening the door, she handed those to Riona, then waddled into Malcolm's arms. “The babe is coming.”

  “Coming now? How do you know?” With his arms draped around her shoulder, Malcolm gazed into her eyes with an expression of disbelief. Now that the time had come, he wasn't ready.

  “My water broke.” Bethoc rubbed her belly.

  “The babe? The baby is coming now?” Malcolm's brows arched high.

  She smiled back at him. “Yes Malcolm, it is time for the bairn to come to us.”

  “Make haste, Malcolm, come with me,” Riona ordered.

  He picked Bethoc up and followed Riona into the chamber. Malcolm laid Bethoc on the high, narrow bed. After setting the bratt and brooch down on the table, Riona grabbed the laver pitcher and poured water into a large bowl.

  An older lady, with specks of gray in her dark brown hair, entered the room. She looked askance at Malcolm. “What is a man doing in here? I thought there was to be a birthing.”

  “There is.” Riona turned to Malcolm and Bethoc. “This is Fodla, the midwife.”

  “Fair you well Fodla. My wife is having a baby.”

  “I can see that.” Fodla rolled her eyes.

  “Malcolm, you must leave. A man cannot be present at a birthing,” Riona chided.

  Bethoc slid her hand into Malcolm's and squeezed his fingers. She looked Riona in the eye. “No. Malcolm stays. We are in this together.”

  “It is not done, but far be it for me to argue with one of the fey on Samhain,” Fodla said with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “Good.” Riona smiled warmly at the midwife. “Tell us what we can do to help.”