Beyond A Highland Whisper

by Maeve Greyson

  “Don’t you mean you hate it when I’m right?” With a devilish grin, Trish pushed her in the direction Latharn had headed in his blind fury across the field. “Why don’t you go find him? Talk to him, Nessa. And stop being so damned afraid to start living the life you deserve.”

  Nessa scooped the keys up off the ground and lobbed them at Trish’s head. “One of these days, you’re going to meet your match and I’m going to sit back and laugh.”

  “It’ll never happen!” Trish replied with a laugh and headed for the doorway.

  Nessa made her way through the tall, waving grass. She followed the path Latharn had pounded down in his fury. She didn’t know what she was going to say when she found him, but she had to find a way to make it right.

  Trish was right. Damn her to hell. That redhead should’ve been a shrink. Since he’d become flesh and blood, Latharn’s presence in her life scared the living hell out of her. With his freedom from the crystal, he could be lost. What if he decided to leave her? What if he found that, after all this time of pining for her, she wasn’t what he wanted after at all? It was kind of like shopping. The biggest thrill is trying to find what you want. It’s kind of a letdown once the rush of adrenaline passes and you’ve gotten what you’ve searched for all along.

  Nessa reached the top of a small knoll and paused to scan the area. The grass thinned out making Latharn’s path less apparent, the packed dirt hard and covered with scattered clumps of thistles and good-sized stones. Looking around, Nessa recognized the clustered trees up ahead as the copse of pines surrounding the goddess well.

  Nessa hesitated, wondering if Latharn had gone to the spring. If his mother had chosen to appear to Nessa at the well, then what would prevent her from appearing to Latharn? Taking care to ease into the trees, Nessa thrilled as the murmur of voices met her ears. Peeping through the bushes, Nessa spotted Latharn with his mother beside the well.

  Latharn sat upon a stone, his hands clenched in front of him, his head sagging as he scowled into the shimmering waters below. “Has love between a man and a woman changed so much, Mother? Has it become a mere diversion or a passing thought? I couldna even convince her to say she would marry me. We’re only to be handfasted with the next full moon. It’s as though the lass thinks we’ve just met. She thinks we need to get to know one another, when I know her better then she knows herself.” Latharn dropped his head into his hands, covering his face and heaved a dismal sigh. “She’s mine, Mother! I’ll always keep her safe. Why can she no’ trust that I’ll never leave her?”

  Too busy eavesdropping to watch where she stepped, Nessa didn’t see the brittle stick lying like a guardian across her path. The snap echoed throughout the wood. The birds flushed from the trees to announce Nessa’s presence to all.

  Both turned in unison; Latharn and Rachel visibly relaxed when they saw it was Nessa in their wood. Rachel pressed her face to Latharn’s ear, then smiled at Nessa before she disappeared. Her image evaporated into a mist as though she’d been nothing more than a passing shadow.

  Latharn rose from his seat upon the stone. He stood silent, watching as Nessa drew near. His gaze smoldered, smile gone, hands flexing at his sides.

  Guilt weighed heavily on her mind. Nessa knew she had put the sorrow in his eyes. She swallowed hard against her storming emotions, struggled to slow the drumming of her heart. What a fool she had been, avoiding the truth, so afraid he’d slip out of her life. “I’m so sorry, Latharn. I didn’t mean to be such a...” She searched for the words, the words to make it right. She gave up, no words would ever do. Crying out, she rushed headlong into his arms.

  She leapt on his chest, possessed his mouth, and poured her apologies into her kiss. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she buried her fingers into his hair and molded her body against his.

  Latharn wrapped his arms around her, carrying her to the moss-covered bank beside the mouth of the spring. He lowered them both to the ground and leaned them back against a fallen log. Nessa straddled his body, fueling her kisses with her deepest emotions. He had to forgive her. He had to know how she truly felt.

  Slipping his hand up the front of her shirt, Latharn pushed her bra aside. He let out a muffled groan of pleasure as she shivered beneath his touch. Cupping her breast, he circled her nipple with his thumb and slipped his other hand down the front of her pants.

  Latharn teased his way into her folds, swirling his fingers deep inside her. “I ache for ye, Nessa,” he breathed into her mouth as she moaned against his lips.

  Breathless, she raised her head from his mouth, slipped her shirt down her shoulders, and tossed her bra aside. Nessa writhed and moaned as his talented fingers danced inside her. Gripping his shoulders, she closed her eyes, her head thrown back in pure bliss. She ground her hips hard into his hand, taking full advantage of his expert touch. His teasing thumb tantalized her nub until she cried out and shuddered on his hand.

  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 ru
mbled 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.