This week my assignment from the Book Boyfriends Cafe is to pick a celebrity who inspired my latest work.
This particular guy has inspired a lot of my writing. I tend to like tall, dark and broody, and he fits the bill.
So here's the inspiration for Erland Blodson, the hero of Viking in Tartan.
Here's a fact that many don't know about this actor: his name is not pronounced the way it's spelled. It's pronounced "Rafe Fines." French, ya know.
Here's a little about the story that "Rafe" inspired:
Viking in Tartan, part of the best-selling Naughty List holiday boxed set, brought to you by the Naughty Literati
Setting: 13th century Scotland...A Viking raider brings change to little Clan Kilbirnie, especially to the chieftain's daughter, Rhona.
Here's my hero in action:
“Kaptein!” a cry came from the bow. “There’s a...there’s a girl in the sea!”
Erland smacked a hand to the side of his head to clear water from his ears and strode forward, evading the rowers and the sea chests on which they sat. “Are you mad, Sigurson?”
Holding a lantern aloft so Erland could see, his first mate pointed over the ship’s side. Erland looked down, gripping a rope. He believed Sigurson wanted the title of “Kaptein” rather than “first mate.”
But this time, Sigurson wasn’t lying. Below, trapped between the vicious storm-surge and the longship’s side, a small sailing curach bobbed. Its one sailor clutched the splintered mast. Whips of wet, dark hair clung to a pale, terrified
|Image from WikiCommons|
A pale, terrified, beautiful face.
Ensuring it was tied to the longship, Erland tossed the rope he held over the side to the girl. “Grab it!” he roared.
She didn’t react. Had she not heard him? Mayhap she had not understood. She should, for they spoke a common language.
He thumped the ship’s side to get her attention. “Ho! Girl!” He smashed his fist again on the wet wood.
She looked up. Hope brightened her eyes as she reached for the rope. Thick leather gloves, he noted with approval. Though the girl was no doubt insane or desperate to have challenged the waves on a night like this, she was still in possession of her senses enough to have dressed intelligently.
She started to climb the rope, but was sorely hampered by her gown. Woolen, no doubt, and probably heavy with moisture.
“Hold tight!” he shouted. “I’ll pull you up!”
Had she heard?
She gazed upward again and he thought he saw acknowledgment on her desperate face. She wrapped a length of the rope around her body, and he again found himself approving of her brains. He began to haul her aboard.
Scant seconds later, she was halfway up the ship’s side and released the rope to scrabble for a hold. “No!” he yelled. “You’ll fall!”
The rope slipped and into the storm-tossed water she went.
He followed her without hesitation. The icy waves squeezed his lungs and for a surprised moment he wondered if he’d pass out, die here in a strange Scottish fjord. But his natural affinity to the cold reasserted itself, and he kicked upward until his head broke the water’s surface.
Where was she?
Scant moonlight gleamed on a dark, wet head and he swam with powerful strokes toward it, hoping he wasn’t in pursuit of a seal. He grabbed an armful of wet, shivering woman and hauled her close. He knew that his body would supply no heat, but he could keep her head above the water, keep her alive until he got her aboard ship.
He slung an arm beneath her chin and used his other hand to push her body upwards. Though weighted by her heavy dress, she floated enough that he could get her back to the ship.
The ship. Where was it?
He looked around with a frantic gaze until he espied the rope, the same rope he’d thrown to the girl. He snatched it before the waves took it away, but only one tug revealed that it was no longer tied to his ship...which was gone.
At last, Sigurson had his wish.
Here's where you can buy the boxed set:
Remember, this is a blog hop! Read aboutother authors' inspirations here: