by Willa Blair
Breathing hard, she held him locked in her gaze as she rose and shed the rest of her clothes. Nessa stretched before him, bare as the day she was born, still tingling from his touch.
With a wave of his hand, Latharn’s clothing disappeared and he knelt before her. He traced his hands up her thigh, his tongue tickling and nipping close behind. He spread her legs and held her body steady as he buried his face between them. Suckling and teasing, he licked and nipped, until Nessa felt sure she risked bursting into flames. Moaning, gasping, Nessa raked her nails across Latharn’s shoulders and pulled his head hard against her. Just when she thought she’d surely die, he slid his finger deep inside and pushed her over the edge.
With a shudder, Nessa fell across his shoulders as Latharn carried her to the pond. She gasped as the icy water of the spring washed over her heated flesh. As Latharn walked, he slid Nessa down around his waist and buried himself inside her. As he moved toward the headstone with the goddess’s face, he clutched her tight against his chest. With each step he took, he slid deeper still, burying himself to the hilt by the time he’d reached the stone.
Latharn balanced Nessa against the hollowed-out ledge. It was as though the seat had been made for just such a joining. Leaning back against the rock, her arms rested along the sides of the bank, Nessa reveled in Latharn’s thrusts. The icy water rushed in with each of his delicious thrusts as he pounded deeper into her body. Neither of them spoke, just stared into each other’s eyes, hypnotized by the dance.
The rhythm increased, the world reeled; Nessa drowned in Latharn’s fathomless gaze. Her body suckled him, begged for his essence, enveloped him with her timeless needs. She shattered, unable to take anymore, her screams of ecstasy echoed out across the wood. His shoulders knotting as he clutched her tighter, Latharn roared his possession, his growls echoing with her cries as he filled her with his seed.
Shuddering as he emptied, Latharn claimed her mouth, burying his moans in her throat. She spasmed around him and continued to climax; he hardened again and resumed the dance. Her eyes half-closed as her passion stoked again, Nessa barely noticed how the waters shimmered with a strange glow around their bodies. Arm in arm, they finally emerged from the water. With a tired wave of his hand, Latharn materialized a tartan around them. He wrapped them in a heavy winter plaid, the softest wool his magic conjured protected their bodies from the evening chill. As they lay together upon the mossy bank, Latharn squinted and a roaring campfire appeared. Nessa stirred in a feeble attempt to prop her chin on his chest.
“Latharn.”
“Aye?” He didn’t open his eyes.
“I’ve changed my mind about the handfasting ceremony,” she whispered, watching his face.
His eyes flew open in alarm, his arm tightening around her shoulders. “What are ye trying to tell me, my love? Nessa, what are ye saying?”
As she snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm, Nessa yawned before she replied. “I want a wedding. I want us to be married when the child we just made is born.”
Latharn’s arm relaxed around her and his deep chuckle rumbled beneath her head. “Ye mean when our children are born.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Did he say exactly how many children?” Hands buried in the makeshift filing cabinet, Trish glanced at Nessa. Pencil clenched between her teeth, she paused in her filing.
Studiously ignoring Trish’s probing gaze, Nessa trained her eyes on the screen of her laptop and shrugged her shoulders. “He won’t tell me. Just gives me that smug know-it-all grin that says he’s proud of the fact he’s successfully sired the first of his brood.”
Trish chuckled as she pushed the drawer shut and tucked the folders under her arm. “I’d bet a paycheck you’re at least carrying triplets. You know he’s not going to let himself be outdone by Brodie. That would be unbecoming of the laird!”
Nessa felt a bit faint at the prospect of triplets. Swallowing hard, her breath hitched as she remembered the strange effects of the well and the wonderfully erotic afternoon. “Oh, don’t even joke about that. What if it is triplets? Are you going to move in with us to help me maintain control of the herd?”
Trish fixed Nessa with a wistful gaze as she nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world. But you know I can’t sponge off you guys forever. Once this project is over and our grant money is gone, I’ll eventually have to go back to the States. My work visa won’t be good forever.” Trish’s voice quivered as she turned away.
Nessa caught the earpiece of her reading glasses between her teeth and spun around in her chair. “Obviously, we’re going to have to get you hitched to a MacKay. If you’re family, you’ll have to stay.”
“I think we need to concentrate on your ceremony first. After all, it’s only three days until Latharn makes an honest woman of you.”
Trish nodded toward the desk, dropped the folders on the chair, and frowned at an oddly carved stone lying in the middle of the blotter. “What’s this? I thought we’d crated up this week’s artifacts. Who’s head are you gonna have on a plate for leaving this one behind? And it’s not even properly labeled.”
Nessa rose from behind her desk, brow furrowed as she leaned closer to the ancient rock. “I’ve not seen this one before. Maybe they just found it this morning. But they know better than to bring it in here. I can’t imagine any of them being this careless. Every one of them has been more professional then I could have ever hoped.”
Nessa opened the drawer, fished out a pair of gloves, and snapped them on her wrists. She cupped the football-sized stone between her hands. Turning the stone, her eyes widened as a surge of energy jolted up her arms. She grimaced and tried to set the stone back down on the desk. Nessa panicked when she realized she couldn’t pull her fingers away from its surface. “Trish, I can’t put it down! This thing won’t let me let it go!”
Trish rushed to her side, trying to grab the stone. Whenever she reached for the artifact in Nessa’s hands, the stone yanked itself, as well as Nessa, out of her reach. “This isn’t an artifact from the site, Nessa. That thing’s carrying some kind of a curse meant for you alone. You’ve got to find a way to put it down. You’ve got to concentrate on letting it go!”
Nessa struggled, pulling against the invisible force, her body trembling as she fought to break free. Terror overtook her with the realization that nothing she tried worked. Nessa cried out, battling against her rising hysteria. “Get Latharn! He’ll know what to do. Hurry, Trish. Before it’s too late.”
“Trish!” A roaring wind drowned out her words. The inside of the tent. Trish’s face. She couldn’t hear, couldn’t see the words Trish’s lips formed. Spinning. If she closed her eyes, she might be able to stand but she feared she’d never see Trish again. She stumbled, the spinning increased, and the out-of-focus whiteness snapped to black.
****
Latharn tried to get through Trish’s panic as she grabbed her keys and stumbled for the door. “Latharn,” she bellowed again at the top of her lungs. “Latharn! You’ve got to hear me. Nessa’s gone!”
He felt her attention focus on him. Latharn shushed her. I am with ye, Trish. I can hear ye. Ye must calm down. We will save her. Just get here as quick and as safe as ye can.
“She just disappeared. She just vanished!” Trish sobbed as she pounded on the steering wheel.
Latharn let her anger play itself out before speaking again.
Trish moaned. “Who the hell could’ve done this to her? Where could she be?”
I swear to ye, Trish. We will find her. I did not wait six hundred years to be with my love only to have her torn away. And I will not forfeit my children either. Now, calm down and get here as soon as ye can.
Alerted by the horn as Trish roared into the driveway, Latharn yanked open the door and pulled her from the seat almost before the tires had stopped turning. “Ye must tell me every detail of what happened at the site. Ye must leave nothing out if we are to find where Nessa has been sent.”
Nessa’s
friend blinked at him in confusion. “Where Nessa has been sent? You sound as though you expected this to happen. Are you telling me you knew she was in danger all along?”
How could he explain it? There wasn’t time. Raking his hands through his hair, Latharn struggled to make Trish understand.
Brodie rushed to his side. “Brodie and I have been watching an increasing darkness, a growing disturbance among the mists and the ripples of time. We felt sure it was the evil of Gabriel Burns and his negativity disturbing the energies with his rage. But with this kind of magic, the strength of this kind of curse...I just don’t know for sure. We can take nothing for granted.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Fiona emerging from the outer shed. She was well-dusted from head to toe from searching through storage shelves. Pale, her eyes shadowed with shock, she brushed her hair back with a trembling hand. With a nod from Latharn, Fiona clutched at Trish’s hand. “I saw the vicious devil practicing the darkest of magic. I saw his altar once when he didn’t know I was about. But always before, his spells failed. That was part of the reason for all his anger.”
Latharn steadied Fiona’s shoulders as she shifted a box filled with jars labeled in an ancient script higher on her hip. Her dazed look deepened as she recalled Gabriel’s dark habits aloud. “As far as I knew, Gabriel was only capable of physical evil against women. Not once did any of his curses come to pass. I once found the journal he kept where he tried to discover what he did wrong. I just assumed he didna have the gift.”
Brodie growled and fisted his hands. “This time he will die if he’s the one to blame for this evil. We will send him to meet his master of darkness in the very pits of hell.”
Taking the box from Fiona and settling it in the back of the jeep, Latharn turned to find Trish glaring at all their faces. “If he’s the one to blame? You mean you’re not even sure Gabriel’s the one we’re after? If not, Gabriel, then who? Or what could be to blame for Nessa being zapped out of existence into thin air? Latharn, what’s going on? You promised me Nessa would be safe!”
His rage drummed the call to battle; his body tensed, ready to attack. Latharn jerked his head in Trish’s direction. He didn’t have time to explain, especially not to a novice such as Trish. Growling, he yanked open the back of the jeep. All this chatter solved nothing. They must get organized, plan their attack. They had to move. “Enough. There is no time for this banter. We must get to the castle. A hidden library is there that will aid us in our search. If we are unable to find her before the full moon, she may be lost to us forever. The autumnal equinox could realign the stars and hide her away from this reality for an untold number of years.”
Spurred into action by Latharn’s words, Fiona set the dusty carton down and held out her hand to Trish. “Come help me, Trish. We must gather the rest of the bottles and books that we’ve kept hidden here over the years.” Fiona pulled Trish by the arm and led the way to a hidden room behind the storeroom walls.
Latharn directed the two women as they filled every box until nothing remained in the room. He selected vials and bottles of morbid-looking objects, wrapping them to ensure they survived the journey. He packed ancient texts that would make any archeologist tremble in excitement. Latharn double-checked everything they packed, nodding his approval before each box was sealed.
He turned one last time to scan the now bare room, to ensure they’d left nothing behind. Latharn wouldn’t entertain the thought that they’d not get to Nessa in time.
They reached the castle just as the edge of the fiery orange sun had dipped below the horizon and the glowing white moon had begun to rise. The promising light shimmered upon the rippling waves of the ocean, oblivious to the malevolence in the air.
Latharn’s gaze settled on the home of his birth for the first time in hundreds of years. His chest tightened as memories of his childhood flooded his mind.
Shadows of children at play, of women as they bustled about the castle grounds danced before his eyes. Images of ancestors laughed, slapping each other on their backs as they walked their horses in from the courtyard gate. His emotions squeezed the wind from his chest as he watched three brothers laugh and wrestle in the mud.
Latharn shook himself free of the ghosts of the past and made his way into the great hall. Once Nessa was safely back at his side, the memories could surface then. He led the others to the northernmost tower and up the spiral steps. Yanking down on the iron sconce on the farthest wall, he waited for the timeworn stones to obey the forgotten command. An eternity passed before the answering grind of the stone gears rumbled from far beneath the floor.
At a snail’s pace, the dingy passage appeared. Within it was a small landing bearing two sets of stairs. One staircase descended into the musty darkness, the other rose in the direction of a shaft of shimmering moonlight. At Latharn’s nod, they took the staircase leading to the stars. Latharn held the torch high over their heads, its flickering light doing little to beat back the shadows of the narrow stone hall.
His heart drummed harder the higher he climbed. This was mother’s tower. A gifted witch from the twenty-first century, she’d traveled back in time to join with his father. The portals of time had strengthened her powers; her mystical abilities had grown with the energy within the veil. Inhaling a great breath, Latharn held the torch higher. He didn’t fear the unknown the darkness held; he feared the emotions of the past.
Mother had combined her knowledge with that of the chief druid of the clan and the two of them had recorded everything they had ever learned. Usually, rituals were committed to memory by repetition and practice. Ancient druidry wasn’t recorded on parchment or stone. But neither Latharn’s mother nor the wise druid of the clan wanted to risk the knowledge ever being lost. Death was an ever-threatening thief of knowledge. It could strike down a gifted teacher at any moment.
With a shudder, Latharn recalled the day his mother had told him of her plans to hide the gathered knowledge after his father’s murder. She’d seen to the concealment of the library of the mysteries before she’d jumped to her death. Although it had been several centuries ago, the memory still pained him, as though the wound was still fresh. It was a dark time for the clan MacKay; several members had been falsely accused of spell craft by rival families. The avaricious witch hunters had gone so far as to torture one poor woman to death. This death had sparked a bloody clan war. A war that had sent his father’s lifeless body home, his shield laid upon his cold, still chest. His mother had then ordered all the clan records of the mysteries hidden within the castle walls.
Defending magic and his people had killed her husband. Never again would she allow magic practiced among the clan. Then she’d gone to the cliffs overlooking the ocean to fling her body down upon the jagged rocks below.
Latharn shook himself back to the present as they arrived at a heavy door with a single iron circlet hung in its center. Handing the torch to Brodie, he gritted his teeth, set his shoulder against the barrier and shoved. Dust and dirt sifted out of the crevices that hadn’t been disturbed in hundreds of years. The ancient portal groaned its way open and revealed a suffocating darkness within.
Brodie raised the torch, the glowing circle of light struggling against the shadows of the room. Latharn instructed him to light the additional sconces hammered along the wall. Lights blazed about the room, revealing a high-ceilinged chamber. Mouths agape in amazement, Trish, Brodie, and Fiona all spun around to gaze at the sheer number of books lining the walls.
Trish groaned as she wandered around the room, staring at all the shelves. “We’ll never find the answer in three days’ time. This place is as big as the Library of Congress!”
Snapping around, Latharn grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her an irritated shake. “Never speak such negativity again! Ye attract whatever ye send out. I willna listen to words of defeat. In three days’ time, my Nessa will be back at my side.”
Trish fended him off, twisting out of his grasp as she backed her way acr
oss the room. “I’m sorry, Latharn. It’s just there are so many books, so many scrolls, so much…stuff. Tell me where to start and I’ll help any way I can. Just tell me what I’m looking for.”
So many shelves. So many books. How had mother managed them all? Damn, Mother. Did ye have to write down every thought? Scrubbing his jaw, Latharn turned and eyed the croweded shelves covering the walls. “I wish the mirrors of time hadna been destroyed. I could’ve traced her soul across all of the planes with one simple incantation.”
“Mirrors of time?” Trish arched a brow as she turned the pages of a dusty tome she’d pulled from one of the shelves.
“Aye, the mirrors of time. I remember reading about them.” Brodie nodded in complete agreement. “There were three of them. Past, present, and future portals. Ye could scry with them, ask them to find ye anything, and if ye had the gift, they would tell ye the answer ye sought.”
Trish emitted a low whistle of admiration. “Well, that would’ve definitely made our search a lot easier. What happened to them?” She turned to Latharn after she replaced the book she’d been studying back on the shelf. “You said they were destroyed? Who would do such a thing to something so rare?”
“My mother.” Latharn heaved a heavy sigh as he remembered the incident as though it happened yesterday. Rachel had thrown a fit of uncontrollable rage when Caelan’s body had returned lifeless and cold. “She cursed them with a shattering spell for not warning her of the danger to my father’s life.”
Her mouth formed into a silent O. Trish cringed and turned back to search the shelves. “So what subject am I supposed to be searching for? Curses? Autumnal equinox? Full moon? Disappearing into thin air? What?”
“Scrying,” Brodie shouted from across the room where he pawed through the lowest shelf in the corner. “What about scrying? I know ye don’t have the mirrors, but there are other tools that can be used to see into the mists.”
