They were in place to kidnap Orla when the assassination attempt occurred, and with security being stepped up, they found it almost impossible to get to her again.
Torstein felt the need to claim her as his own and protect her. Which would explain why instead of grabbing her and galloping off to Dunsinane, he was instead kissing her as if his life depended on it? He just could not resist her succulent lips. If they were alone, and she was receptive, he would take her right here on the riverbank, such was the need she aroused within him.
Torstein coaxed Orla’s lips apart. When she opened her mouth, he pushed his tongue inside and licked her lips. He heard her moan and then she was kissing him back. That sent a surge of heat to his groin and next he knew he had her backed up against a tree, both hands in her hair, holding her in place so he could deepen their kiss.
He tried to drown out his men mumbling in the background, especially the giant Njal in his deep gravelly voice saying, “Whit is dis, I thought we werna allowed to ravage our captives?”
He heard Mathias say, “Tor is protecting her.”
“Tis not possible to protect someone with yer lips.” Aksel grumbled.
Orla responded to the kiss. She grabbed Tor’s forearms to steady herself. She closed her eyes as he nipped at her lips. She sighed and whispered, “Mmm Brodie…”
Torstein stilled. “Who’s Brodie?”
Orla’s eyes shot open. She gasped and pushed him away. He tried to pull her back into his arms when he heard swords being drawn and a voice bellow, “Get your hands off my wife!”
Torstein spun around and pushed Orla behind him. He drew his weapon.
***
Despicable Demigods
Brodie saw red. He had discovered Orla’s escape plan just in time and rode out with several retainers. Lachlan and Rory were now scrubbing garderobes right alongside Kieran. Amelia was at the Keep getting a stern talking to from Beiste and once Brodie got through with matters here, he was tying Orla to his bed indefinitely.
Although that is not why he was furious. It was the possessiveness he felt witnessing another man kissing his woman and his woman returning the kiss. Brodie gritted his teeth. He was jealous, and Brodie Fletcher never got jealous, until now.
He was going to have to step up his wooing efforts because there was no way he was letting some golden-haired, braw, ruggedly handsome, impeccably dressed, demigod, sweep in and seduce his woman from under him. He knew this was penance for his past womanizing ways. But he was ready to fight to the death.
“Orla, come here now!” Brodie yelled, wielding his axe and sword.
“She’s not gan anywhere with ye,” Torstein shouted in return.
“I am talking to my wife, stop interfering,” Brodie shouted.
Torstein asked Orla over his shoulder, “Is it true? Are ye married to that big ogre?”
“No, but he has been protecting me. Since I was a child.”
“I take it his neem is Brodie?”
“Aye.”
Torstein sighed. “Are ye gan talk about our kiss.”
Orla said, “I’d rather not thanks.”
“Weil, was it a wonderful kiss?”
“Twas nice, but…”
“Yer heart wasn’t in it?”
“Oh Tor, I cannot explain, but I feel connected to that loud brute over there.”
“Is he a reasonable man?”
“Most of the time.”
“But not when it comes to you?”
“He can be a little…”
“Possessive? I dinnae blame him.”
Brodie growled, “Are you two going to chat amongst yourselves all day?”
“Calm down, Brodie, I’m coming out. Dinnae hurt these men, they mean no harm,” Orla shouted.
***
Decisions
An hour later they gathered in the Council Room. The MacGregors and Torstein and his men agreed they needed to work together. First, they needed to know what they were up against.
Brodie still wanted to behead the disgustingly pretty man for kissing Orla, but for the sake of peace he would let it be.
In the meantime, Brodie seated Orla beside him and Torstein at the far end of the table. Brodie also made a point of draping an arm over Orla’s shoulder even though she kept trying to shrug it off.
“Brother, why dinnae you just piss on her chair so no one will come close?” Beiste said with a chuckle as Dalziel stifled a laugh.
Brodie just glared at them. He wanted to punch them in the face. Smug bastards. He was overreacting, but he had never felt this level of possessiveness towards any woman before. He wanted the world to know Orla was his.
Eventually the room quietened when Torstein stood to address the group. “An Earl from Shetland, Rognvald Brusisson has sent men to kill Orla. They willna stop coming until she is dead.”
“But why?” Amelia asked.
Mathias, one of Torstein’s men answered, “Tis because of her far.”
“Who is her da?” Beiste asked.
“He is… Thorfinn Sigurdsson, Jarl of Orkney.”
Everyone tensed and turned to stare at Orla. There were looks of consternation and disbelief.
Orla followed the exchange, transfixed. She had never heard of Thorfinn but could tell the MacGregors had, and they were not happy.
Beiste looked stunned. “I dinnae believe it. Orla’s da, is Thorfinn ‘the Mighty’?”
Torstein nodded.
Dalziel stood up abruptly and started pacing the room and rubbing his beard. His usually calm demeanor replaced with an incredulous look. “Your people hid her here and didn’t think to tell us?”
Torstein looked contrite. “Twas a decision my parents made. The less anyone kenned the easier it was to keep her hidden… and it has worked so far.”
“But why, what is the reason this Earl wants her dead?” Brodie asked.
“Because he is partly responsible for her mor’s death,” Aksel said.
Orla gasped and tears started spilling from her eyes without her realizing it.
Brodie reached across and held her hand. Orla gripped it firmly as if it were a life raft to a drowning sailor.
“What is it you want us to do?” Beiste asked.
“I need to get her to Macbeth,” Torstein said.
“How does this involve Macbeth?” Brodie asked.
“Thorfinn is his first cousin through their grandfather Malcolm II. They are close and Macbeth is the only one who can find the Jarl.”
“Why does he need to find him?” Dalziel asked.
Torstein took a deep breath, “Thorfinn doesn’t ken he has a dattar. He believes his lover and his bairn perished in a fire. That is whit the Earls told him. But with Orla alive it raises questions.”
“Wait, who was Orla’s ma?” Amelia interrupted.
“A foreigner. Her name was Izara, she was Thorfinn’s thrall,” Njal said.
Orla felt as if someone had pushed the air out of her lungs. She sat silently listening to the news but also feeling detached from everyone in the room. For years she had yearned for her own family, and now the revelations left more questions unanswered. It was too overwhelming.
Brodie lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “All will be well, love,” he whispered in her ear. Orla found great comfort in his gesture and smiled in return.
Torstein watched the interplay between Brodie and Orla and realized he had no chance of winning her because the lumbering ox beside her had already claimed her heart.
“So, Orla is King Malcolm’s great granddaughter?” Amelia asked.
“Aye,” Torstein answered.
Amelia looked at Orla. “Sister, this makes us true kin. King Malcolm II was also my great grandfather.”
Both women shared a tender moment at the revelation.
Brodie did not like the sound of this. If Orla was Macbeth’s kin, Macbeth could deny their marriage.
“Those who seek to kill Orla, do so to prevent Thorfinn from finding out she is aliv
e. The way to eliminate the threat is to find him and introduce him to his dattar,” Torstein said.
“Then I suggest we send Orla and a contingent of warriors to Dunsinane,” Beiste said, ending the meeting.
They agreed everyone remained in the Keep for safety. There would be no more trips to the woods. They also made plans to leave at first light.
A missive was sent to Dunsinane to inform Macbeth that the MacGregors would seek a special audience with him within the sennight.
On the way out of the room, Torstein used the opportunity to sidle up to Orla. “Do you need me to guard you tonight, peedie bird? I would happily warm your bed.” He winked at her.
Orla chuckled and was about to respond when Brodie pulled her to his side and hissed at Torstein. “I suggest you find another bed to warm… you… despicable demigod!”
Brodie marched Orla out of the room and missed the smirk on Torstein’s face. Torstein decided if he could not win Orla, then he would make himself as disagreeable to her big ogre as possible.
***
Rearrangements
Orla was exhausted when she retired to her room. She just wanted a bath and some food and her nice warm bed. She threw open her door and stilled. Mouth agape in shock, she stared at the empty room.
“Where are my things?”
“In my room.”
She turned and saw Brodie behind her.
“Why?”
“Because I need to protect you and you now sleep with me.”
“Brodie Fletcher, you had no right taking my things.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You always call me by my full name when you’re annoyed.”
“Because your full name irritates me.”
“That makes no sense, love. I am the least annoying person in the world.”
Orla just rolled her eyes. “Well, you can just return all my things Brodie Fletcher because I willna be sleeping in any room other than my own.” Orla huffed with her hands on her hips.
“Och sorry love tis impossible now.”
At that moment people entered with furnishings and trunks. They shoved Orla out of the way.
“What tis happening?” she asked.
“I’m moving in.” Kieran appeared behind her with his arms full of clothes.
“No! Tis my room and I am still using it.”
“Ye should have thought of that before you drugged me.” Kieran dumped his clothes on the rug and went about rearranging furniture.
“We shall see about that, Kieran MacKenzie!” Orla stormed out of the room in search of Amelia.
Brodie followed behind her, chuckling. “See, I told you I’m not the most irritating person in the world.”
“What are you talking about, Brodie?” Orla gritted her teeth.
“Well, you just called Kieran by his full name, which means he irritates you just as much.”
Orla gave him a quelling look and kept walking. “Please go away I dinnae need your shadow blocking my sunlight.”
“Tis night-time.” Brodie grinned when he heard her cursing under her breath.
He had to admit the view of Orla storming away was a sight to behold. Watching her curvy bottom march down the hall did nothing to cool his ardor.
“Where precisely are you going?” he asked.
“To see Amelia. She needs to end this nonsense.”
“Wait. I wouldn’t do that, love.”
“You cannot stop me Brodie, I ken she will see reason.”
“No, I mean tis not a good time. I saw Beis—”
“Stop following me, Brodie.”—Orla snapped at him—“Amelia needs to put a stop to this nonsense.”
“Dinnae say I didn’t warn you.” Brodie smirked.
Without knocking, Orla threw the door wide open and burst into Amelia’s Solar. Then instantly regretted it when she saw Beiste and Amelia partially naked and engaging in a very amorous bout of love making against the wall.
Holding the door handle, she stood in stunned silence. At first, she was shocked to walk in on such an intimate scene. Then she was curious that people could engage in such activity against a wall.
Amelia gasped at the sight of Orla.
Beiste growled, “Bloody hell! Does nobody knock in this blasted Keep?”
The couple rapidly tried to disengage from one another and right their clothing.
Orla blushed. “I’m sorry. I’ll uh...” then she stepped straight out of the room and slammed the door shut. Covering her face, mortified, she stood in the hallway trying to unsee what she just saw.
She could hear Amelia giggling uncontrollably. Then Beiste grumbled, “Tis not funny Amie, I could’ve dropped you and injured my man-parts.” Then Orla heard Amelia burst out laughing and Beiste cursing.
Orla heard a chuckle coming from behind her. Brodie was leaning against the wall in the hallway with his arms folded, legs crossed, just looking at her. “I told you not to go in there.”
“You could have been more specific.”
“Orla, everyone in this Keep kens the Chieftain cannot keep his hands off his wife. Not since the first day he saw her in that dusty village.”—Brodie walked towards her— “Which is why everyone knocks before entering any room those two are in.”
“Well, I didn’t realize they’d be at it in the solar.”
“They’re married and they’re deeply in love, Orla. They are bound to go at it whenever the need arises.”
“But they’re married with bairns.”
Brodie was now standing directly in front of her. “They’re married, not dead.”
Soon the door to the solar opened and Beiste stormed out, scowling at Orla before walking away.
Amelia came to the door, smiling with a slight blush. “You can come in now, sister.”
“Amelia, I am so sorry for interrupting you and Beiste.”
“Dinnae feel bad Orla, Beiste and I will pick up where we left off, later.” Amelia winked at her and ushered her inside.
Brodie barged his way in, deciding it was time to put an end to Orla’s reservations.
“What’s the matter, Orla?” Amelia asked.
“You need to assign me a different room other than the one he’s in.” She pointed her thumb at Brodie.
“I cannot do that Orla the rooms have been allocated and Beiste told me he needs his guardsmen in the Keep.”
“Fine, I’ll go stay in my cottage.”
“You have to remain in the Keep,” Amelia said.
“Then I’ll… build my own Keep.”
“Beiste cannot spare the stones,” Brodie said smugly.
***
Brusi’s Island, Shetland
“Is she dead?” Earl Rognvald Brusisson asked his kinsman, Moddan.
“No.”
“Then why are ye here?”
“She has na idea who her far is or who her kin are. We should just leave well alone.”
“As long as she’s alive she poses a risk.”
“Tis a minimal risk my lord.”
“The Jarl is raiding Alba and the Isles because of his appetite for destruction. Do ye ken whit turned him into that man?”
“No.”
Losing his lover and his bairn. Whit, do ye think he would do if he found out what we did?”
“Chances are minimal, ye could bring his attention to her by pursuing this path.”
Rognvald crossed the dais in an instant, stopping just in front of his kinsman. “Ye ken the Jarl is a shrewd violent man? It willna take him long to figure out whit happened and then ye and I would no longer be breathing.”
“I understand but—”
“He’ll not only kill us; he’ll torture us first for many days. He’ll no doubt lop off your other hand.”
They both looked down at Moddan’s handless arm.
Rognvald said, “We cannot assume the protection of Norway. So, make sure she is dead, or ah’ll see the spiked heads of your sons and dattars lining the shores of Bressay.”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
“What of Runa and Hagan?”
“They have disappeared.”
“And Torstein?”
“He left by longboat a few days ago.”
“And your man was with him?”
“Aye. He’ll do his part.”
It satisfied Rognvald. Moddan would see the job done.
***
Chapter 7 – Fools Rush In
When everyone had retired to their beds for the night. Orla had bathed and was wearing a chemise with a woolen airisaidh draped around her shoulders. She was drying her hair by the fireplace when Brodie entered their chambers. His long hair was partially wet, and she could scent lye soap. He had bathed in the Loch.
“Brodie, we cannot keep sharing a bed,” she said.
“As long as golden-haired men roam about the place, I intend to sleep in the same bed with you.”
Orla sighed. “Brodie, people will gossip about us.”
“Why?”
“Because we are not married, and they ken I am sharing your bed chamber.”
“Well, I intend to change that.”
“How?”
Brodie cleared his throat and said, “I think tis high time we married.”
“What? Have you been drinking, Brodie?” Orla sniffed his neck.
“I have not had a single drop.”
“Did you get too much sun?” Orla felt his forehead with the back of her hand.
“I am serious Orla I have already discussed it with Beiste, and he agrees, marriage tis the best way to protect you.”
Orla just stared at him. “Are you daft? We cannot marry?”
“Why not?”
“Because we hate each other, Brodie.”
“I dinnae hate you, Orla, I never have.” Brodie stared at her with a soft expression that had Orla feeling somewhat uncomfortable.
“Marriage is a big step, Brodie, not to be taken lightly.”
“Look at me.” — Brodie stepped in front of Orla — “We need to marry right now before we leave for Macbeth’s Castle.” Brodie grabbed her hand and headed for the door.
“Where are we going?”
“The chapel is ready Abbot Hendry is waiting.”
“You cannot just decide this Brodie, tis more at stake. You haven’t even asked me.”
Handfasted to the Bear: Reformed Rogues Book 2 Page 6
