The Scottish Selkie Read Online Free PDF Page A

avoided that bit of history. “His father's death must have been hard on him. Mayhaps it is why? I mean he seems to fathom my grief. My father was killed by Kenneth mac Alpin's treachery.” 
    “Treachery?” Oengus smiled. “Some fool in the market said the hall has trap doors which open to bottomless pits. Such folly.” He let out a deep chuckle. 
    Remembering she had believed the same, Bethoc had never felt so stupid. But that feeling soon turned to anger. She placed one hand on her hip. “It is plain enough, the hall has no hidden pits, yet seven earls came in peace, were plied with ale, then killed. Death is not the customary end to a royal feast.” 
    Oengus stood still as he gazed at her. “M'lady, I am sad to hear of the loss of your sire and your betrothed. But Kenneth did not kill them. They died fighting.” He sat down on the dirt floor beside the chairs and began working. “Kenneth and Malcolm are good men. You will come to find it so, now that you live with us Scots.”
    Never would she think of Kenneth or Malcolm as good. But Bethoc had to put her thoughts of those two aside, and clean this rath if she was to sleep here.
    A sigh of exasperation escaped her lips as she picked up the broom. Bethoc swept to and fro; the rustling sound of the straw brushing the hard packed floor calmed her. She had been through much in the last days, from attempting to murder the King of Dalriada to marrying a Scot. 
    She heard footfalls coming up the path. Malcolm's tall frame filled the doorway. “Fixing the chairs? Good man, Oengus.” 
    “In truth, is the Pictish princess sweeping?” Malcolm's brows arched in surprise.
    Bethoc wanted to hit him with the broom. 
    A young girl with blondish red hair followed Malcolm into the rath. He gestured to the lass. “This is Riona, the steward's daughter. She will serve you in ... whatsoever ladies need help with.” 
    The fool, Bethoc thought. The tall handsome fool that she had trouble taking her eyes off. It did not matter. She would soon be rid of him.
    She glanced at the young girl at his side, mayhap four and ten years with a sweet face dotted with freckles.
    “Merry met, Riona.” 
    “M'lady, how can I serve you?” The girl curtsied. 
    “Mayhaps you can dampen a rag and wipe down the cupboard.” Riona rushed to the task. 
    Malcolm stepped up to Bethoc. “I can hardly believe it. The floor is clean.” 
    Grasping the broom, Bethoc held her arm out to the side and glared at him. She didn't want to say anything. She wanted to take the broomstick and knock that smirk off his face. 
    “Yes. I've swept, Riona's dusting, Oengus is mending your chairs, what work are you to do on your home?”
    “It looks like there is naught for me to do.” Malcolm spun around. “You three have it well in hand.” With a tilt of his chin he smirked. “I shall go and see how I can serve Kenneth.” 
    “I thought you were to guard me at all times.” 
    “The task is taken care of sweetling.” Malcolm flashed a wide, aggravating smile, then nodded at Oengus. “Remember what I said. It is all right to kill her.” 
    “Yes,” the burly fellow answered in a serious tone. 
    “Have a jolly time,” Bethoc sarcastically called out to Malcolm. 
    “Yes and you as well,” Malcolm retorted as he headed out the door.
    * * * *
    Knowing Kenneth would want word on what the would-be assassin was up to, Malcolm went to the hall. The king and his brother sat at a table scattered with pieces of vellum, discussing the new kingdom of Alba. A jar of ink and a writing quill set off to Kenneth's side, a pitcher of ale and a few tankards at Donald's right. 
    Kenneth leisurely stretched his long legs out on the bench. “Malcolm, how do you fair as a wedded man?” 
    “The Pictish princess has not killed me yet.” 
    The king's green eyes grew openly amused. “Not yet?” 
    “She has not even tried.” Malcolm grinned as he plopped down beside Kenneth. 
    “Ha, I am sure she will