Handfasted to the Bear: Reformed Rogues Book 2

by Elina Emerald

  “He did.” Magnus clenched his jaw.

  “Yet despite this, ye cannot kill him or exile him from royal court because you would lose support of the nobles. But the longer he remains in Norway the greater risk he is to your crown.”

  Magnus nodded, “Tis true. He is a complication I have tried to rid myself of for months.”

  “Exile him to Orkney. I will keep a close eye on him,” Thorfinn said.

  Magnus tilted his head and rubbed his chin. “Go on.”

  “If you exile him to Orkney, he is still on Norwegian soil, which will appease your nobles, but it removes his influence in Court. He will also be close to Ingibiorg who he treats as a dattar so the nobles, cannot say you banished an old man to a place with no family.”

  Magnus’s broke out into an enormous smile, “Done!” he said without hesitation.

  As much as Magnus craved Orla, his need to be rid of Kalf was far stronger.

  They shook hands on it.

  Thorfinn killed two birds with one stone. He knew Ingibiorg had a soft spot for her uncle Kalf. This way he would make her happy and give Orla the happiness she desired.

  Thorfinn smiled to himself. Ever the shrewd politician, even in matters of the heart.

  ***

  The showdown

  Orla saw Thorfinn and Magnus talking in the Upper Hall. She decided it was time to put her foot down. She was done letting men decide her destiny. She had just finished from the archery range and was in trews and tunic, still armed with bow, quiver and daggers.

  Orla stepped into the Hall and addressed her father, “Far! I need a word, please.”

  “I am busy sweeting, but I will talk to you later.” He dismissed her.

  Orla grabbed her bow, pulled out two arrows from the quiver strapped to her back and nocked them in the taut bowstring. She aimed at Thorfinn and Magnus.

  “Hey now! Whit is dis?” Magnus said, moving out her line of fire.

  “Dattar ye will not point that at me.” Thorfinn grumbled.

  “You will stop telling me what to do!” She yelled. “You will both listen to me or by the devil I will let my arrows fly.”

  “You dare threaten a Jarl and a King?” Magnus asked, although he was smirking.

  “Aye! Because when you’re dead and buried, no one can tell whether your bones are that of a peasant or a king. We’re all just bones in the dirt, none of the titles matter!”

  Both men contemplated her words and gave a begrudging nod.

  “Well, dattar, you have our undivided attention. What would you like to talk about?”

  “You willna annul my marriage to Brodie, do you hear me? I love that loud, rude man, and I cannot exist without him, so if you come between us, I will make sure you regret it!” She hissed.

  Thorfinn was proud of his daughter standing up to him. Pity it was unnecessary, but he would play along.

  Magnus was mesmerized and regretted his earlier agreement with Thorfinn. He thought Orla looked magnificent, especially when enraged.

  “Wipe that look of your face, Magnus!” She bit out. “Get it into your head, I already have a man in my life. If you insist on taking me to Norway, I will cut off your manhood when you sleep and feed it to the fishes!” Orla was practically shouting now.

  Magnus raised his hands palm up and said, “All right, you win. Because of your impassioned speech, I will withdraw my offer.”

  “You… you will?” Orla stuttered in surprise.

  “I will. I prefer my manhood where it is.” Magnus grinned.

  Orla redirected her arrows at Thorfinn, “And you Far? Will you withdraw your request for annulment?”

  “Aye, I will. You have made me see the foolishness of my ways, sweeting.” Thorfinn looked as if he was trying not to laugh.

  “Well, good. Good. I am pleased we had this talk and I hope in future you two will let a woman get a word in sometimes.”

  Orla un-nocked her arrows, turned on her heel and marched out the door.

  Humph I showed, them! She muttered to herself.

  ***

  The following day King Magnus announced he and his men were leaving. Magnus requested a meeting with Orla to say goodbye. Brodie stood guard by the door just in case Magnus tried to kidnap his wife.

  Magnus regretted they would probably never see each other again, but wished Orla well. He also shared that he was leaving to retrieve his dattar Ragnhild Magnusdatter. She was born out of wedlock, and he had secretly placed her in a convent away from court. Their hasty departure meant he could not find a suitable Scottish gift for her. She had asked for a doll and alas Magnus could not get hold of one.

  “Wait there your majesty, hold one moment.”

  Orla went to her chambers and retrieved the parcel Morag gave her with the doll inside.

  She ran back to Magnus. “This is a gift from my family to your dattar.”

  When Magnus saw it his face softened, and his smile was wide. “This is the most exquisite doll I have ever seen. She will love it. Thank you.”

  Orla just whispered “You are welcome Magnus.”

  ***

  Chapter 17 - Kiss of death

  A few nights later, the Great Hall was overflowing with courtiers and townsfolk to celebrate the King’s birthday. They had organized a large extravagant banquet for the occasion, and festivities were in full swing.

  There was so much food. Orla found that she was suddenly famished. The stress and threat of the past few weeks had affected her appetite and now she was happy to eat drink and be merry. Orla was sitting close to Brodie and feeling happier than she had in a long time. Master Ajani sat across from her upon her insistence and her brother Kato was next to her and he was speaking to her in both Amharic and English.

  “How did you both learn Angles and Gaels?”

  “Our seti ayati or what you call seanmathair invited many travelers and tutors who knew of such languages to teach us,” Kato said. “We each speak several languages which helps us communicate with many foreigners.”

  Orla said, “Really? These tutors traveled all the way to Abyssinia to teach you?”

  “Well… the Queen had them captured… but once they were there, they were very willing,” Ajani said.

  Orla chuckled.

  “What does Kato mean?” she asked.

  “It means second born of twins.”

  “What name do they give to the firstborn of twins?”

  “Zesiro. They can use it for boys and girls.” Master Ajani said.

  Orla said the name out loud a few times. She liked it.

  “Did my ma name me Zesiro?”

  “No, she named you Zala,” Ajani said.

  Thorfinn’s rumbling voice interrupted them, “Aye, Izara always said if she had a girl, she would call her Zala.”

  “Mor changed your name to Orla so as not to attract any more attention,” Torstein said. He had joined their table and had been conversing with Master Ajani. Tales of a place called Morocco fascinated Torstein.

  Orla was laughing at something her brother said when she took a sip of some honey mead. It moved down her throat smoothly and made her feel warm and tingly inside. She sipped some more and felt suddenly drowsy she could barely keep her eyes open and then her breathing slowed, everything slowed.

  The room spun. She tried to stand but could not. Her body and tongue felt heavy. She tugged on Brodie’s sleeve. He turned just in time to see her falling.

  The last thing Orla saw was Brodie’s panicked face reaching for her as he roared. She also saw her father running towards her and Kato trying to grab her.

  Then her eyelids closed, and all was darkness.

  Orla drifted to a strange but ethereal place, and she saw her mother, Izara, smiling at her. Her mother said, “Sleep, Zala.” And she did.

  When Orla fell from her chair, pandemonium reigned. Her brother Kato was yelling for help, Brodie was beside himself. They felt her pulse and could feel nothing.

  Dalziel bent next to her and felt her pulse. They trie
d everything, but her face paled and her lips were blue, her body still.

  The healer was summoned, and fifteen minutes later, her verdict was… death by poisoning.

  “No!” Brodie roared as he held Orla in his arms, weeping openly and rocking her body back and forth. He yelled for someone to get Amelia. But Amelia was over a hundred miles away and Orla was no longer breathing. He refused to believe she was gone. He kept telling everyone she had only fainted.

  Several retainers had to pull him away, but he refused to leave her body. Eventually they knocked him out before he destroyed everything.

  ***

  They scoured the Castle trying to find signs of who did it, but they found no clue.

  Word soon spread that Orla the Orphan of the MacGregor clan had died.

  Dalziel sent a missive to Beiste and Amelia that Orla had passed away.

  A grief stricken Thorfinn decided he was taking her body for a proper Norse burial in Orkney and Dalziel sent Brodie home with the MacGregor retainers.

  The MacGregor clan openly mourned, especially Amelia. She was inconsolable.

  Brodie felt adrift. His universe tilted, and he sank into a darkness and despair so bleak it almost consumed him.

  ***

  Chapter 18 – Death Becomes Her

  Brodie awoke in a dark room. He could hear voices and movement around the bed.

  “Someone needs to tell him.” Amelia whispered.

  “Aye love, I will do it,” Beiste said.

  He could hear Amelia crying.

  But tell him what? Where was Orla? He needed to see Orla! He had woken several times calling for Orla but felt fevered and clammy. He felt confused as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

  Finally, he opened his eyes. “Tell me what?”

  Amelia and Beiste looked stricken.

  He looked around and winced in pain.

  “Dinnae thrash about or you’ll ruin your dressings.”

  “Where’s Orla?” he asked again.

  “Just rest all will be well,” Amelia said.

  “Why will no one tell me anything? I need to see her. Am I dying?”

  “You’re not dying. You took on a fever from all your minor cuts after the siege at Dunsinane and have been fighting infection for three days.” Beiste said.

  “Where am I?”

  “Dalziel, had you moved back home so Amelia could tend to you.”

  “Then why are you all whispering?”

  “Orla is gone.” Beiste said.

  “Gone where?”

  Amelia burst into tears. “Oh Brodie, Orla was poisoned and passed away.”

  There was silence. “No! She just fainted, that was all she just fainted?”

  “Brother?” Brodie looked at Beiste, who just shook his head.

  He saw Amelia with tears streaming down her face and the reality hit.

  “Brodie, I am so sorry.” Amelia choked out.

  “Tell me this cannot be true!” He clutched Beiste’s arm.

  “She is dead. Thorfinn took her body to Orkney for a proper burial.”

  “No, no… it cannot be. She was alive, she was still breathing, she just fainted…” Brodie wept. He tried to sit up but collapsed onto the bed, inconsolable.

  “There was nothing we could do.” Beiste said.

  “Go away!” He yelled.

  “Brodie…” Amelia was about to say more.

  “Mistress… please, just leave me alone.”

  Brodie stared at the walls, tears streaming down his face. It was as if his entire life had ended in those words. Orla is gone.

  His woman. His love. Gone, and he did not know how he would ever survive. He could battle with sword and axe, he could take on fifty men, but this inextricable grief, the emptiness within him, could not be assuaged. It physically hurt to breathe.

  “My sweet huntress… my sweet huntress,” he whispered over and over into nothingness.

  ***

  Two Weeks Later

  Amelia said, “Husband, I am so worried. He has stopped eating altogether. He willna even see Iona or Colban. He willna talk to his men. It’s like he’s not there.”

  “Aye, we must give him time, that’s all he needs love.”

  Brodie sat in his room staring out the window. And like every day since he learned of Orla’s death, he opened the stopper of his whiskey bottle and drank. He needed to numb the pain and maybe, he would get through another day without her.

  ***

  The Murrays

  Dalziel arrived with a message, “I have tried to make peace where I can, but this came today from Macbeth.”

  Beiste reached out to take the parchment. After reading it he said, “Damn it to hell! This will destroy Brodie.”

  “Why, what is it?” Amelia asked.

  “Tis from the Murrays. The Chieftain’s daughter is five months pregnant.”

  “So?” Amelia looked confused.

  “She claims Brodie is the da and they’re demanding a wedding.”

  “No, that cannot be? Beiste, he has suffered enough please do something.” Amelia pleaded.

  “The Murrays petitioned the King and seeing as Brodie is now a widower, Macbeth conceded the marriage is to go ahead by the end of the sennight, to keep the peace.”

  “What if we refuse? I mean, we need proof. Surely this woman could be lying.” Amelia said.

  “We all ken Brodie’s reputation with the lassies, twill be difficult to dispute and we cannot openly defy the King.” Dalziel said.

  “Then one of you better tell him because there is no way I can bare to see any more heartbreak in that poor man’s eyes,” Amelia said.

  ***

  “She says I did what?” Brodie shouted in disbelief.

  “Aye, Brother, the Murray lass is claiming the bairn is yours and her da has received Macbeth’s decree that you wed her within the sennight,” Dalziel said.

  ‘Then she is a liar! Because I didn’t bed her!”

  “The Chieftain claims it was a drunken night when you were last with the guardsman at Murray keep. You seduced his daughter and left the next morning.”

  Brodie cast his mind back. He remembered visiting, but he did not imbibe. He distinctly slept alone.

  “She is five months along?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then it cannot be me. I have bedded no lass other than Orla this past year. She is lying!”

  “Brodie, it matters not anymore. Tis the King’s decision.” Dalziel quietly spoke to him.

  “And I’m telling you, I didn’t bed any wench in the last year for her to expect my bairn!”

  “C’mon Brother, are you certain? We all ken how you love to swive–”

  “Stop right there! I will say it again, I haven’t bedded any woman in the past year. How could I? Orla was all I could think about.” Brodie looked outraged.

  “Then we have a problem. Macbeth has decreed it and the Murrays are out for blood.”

  “Well, she’s a liar and I’ll be damned if I marry a lying wench who is trying to palm off a bastard child onto me.”

  Beiste rubbed his forehead. “Brodie, I am sorry, but this marriage must go ahead. Tis crucial for all clans involved that we dinnae defy Macbeth. But trust me, we will seek an annulment once we find out who the real da is.”

  ***

  Second Marriage

  It was the morning of Brodie’s second marriage and only three and a half weeks after his wife’s death. Brodie was resigned to his fate. It seemed as if the universe conspired against him to ensure he was as miserable today as he was yesterday.

  Brodie bathed and dressed, and he even ate some food. Only because Amelia would not leave him alone with her incessant nagging. The woman was infuriating. How Beiste put up with her, he would never understand.

  Now that he looked half descent, he downed four cups of whiskey to numb the pain.

  He could not care less what his new bride thought of him because he had no intention of touching her. There was already a babe in her be
lly. No one expected the marriage to be consummated and he sure as hell could not stomach making love to any other woman.

  As there was still time before the ceremony, Brodie lay back on his bed, fully clothed, and just stared at the ceiling. He did not care that he would rumple his clothes, which Amelia had painstakingly prepared for him, or that his hair now looked disheveled. Brodie did not care at all.

  He wondered, not for the first time, if this was how his father felt after Brodie’s ma left him. Is that why his da never stopped drinking? Brodie still could not understand how his da became so violent. Even drunk Brodie never felt a need to hit anyone, he just wanted to lie down and die.

  He must have fallen asleep because Brodie was startled awake by the sight of Morag, her white eyes and grey hair, leaning over him.

  “Morag, you scared me. What do you want?”

  “Och look at ye now feeling all sorry for yerself… tis, time. Get up Brodie, yer new bride is here, and she is a right bonnie lass.”

  “I dinnae care, Morag, I will never love her or even like her.”

  “Brodie, I miss Orla too, but she is gone, ye have to accept that.”

  Brodie rolled out of bed and stood, “Dinnae say that. I will never accept it. Never…”

  Beiste entered the room. “Brodie… calm. Let us go now.”

  Brodie nodded and walked out the door. He may as well be marching to his death. He just hoped the ceremony was quick so he could drown his sorrows in wedding wine.

  “I want you to know Beiste, I do this for the Clan. But once tis done, I expect you all to leave me be.”

  “Aye we will,” Beiste said.

  ***

  Brodie walked into the Chapel and straight to the front of the altar. He did not greet anyone. He wanted this blasted day over.

  “At least try to look amenable to your bride to be.” Dalziel said as he came to stand beside Brodie.

  “I dinnae care to be amenable to that deceitful wench.”

  “Brodie, you’re making this so much more difficult than it needs to be.” Dalziel said.

  “Does no one care that I lost… the love of my life? And now I’m being forced to wed some stranger based on a falsehood?” He hissed.