Latharn turned to his mother. There was one more thing he had to say in his defense. He didn’t care if the rest of the MacKay clan didn’t believe him. His mother would believe his innocence.
“Mother! As many abandoned bairns as I’ve rescued while on my travels, as many waifs as I’ve brought home to this clan, do ye honestly think I would be able to deny a child of my own blood, a child I had sired? Do ye truly think I would turn my back on a bairn of my very own?”
Latharn towered over his mother, peering down into her eyes and opening his soul to her senses. She had to believe him. He trusted his mother’s intuition to see the truth in his heart. His voice fell to a defeated whisper as he groaned and repeated his earlier words.
“I swear to ye, Mother. I am not the father of the woman’s child. I know of no Leanna MacKinnett!”
Rachel’s hand fluttered to her throat, and she slowly nodded. “I believe you, Latharn. Moreover, I will do what I can to shield you from theirbana-buidhseach. I hear this woman’s powers are amazing, perhaps even stronger than mine. But I’ll do whatever I can to protect you from any evil that may be traveling upon the mists.”
With a heaviness in his chest and a catch in his voice, Latharn embraced his mother and whispered, “Your belief in me is all I’ve ever needed, Mother. Ye know I would never bring dishonor to our family or shame upon our clan.”
He brushed his lips across his mother’s cheek just as chaos erupted at the archway of the hall.
Her shrill cry echoed through the keep as the MacKinnettbana-buidhseachscreeched like an enraged crow. “I demand retribution for Clan MacKinnett. That heartless cur has sullied Leanna MacKinnett’s good name!”
The bent old woman rocked to and fro at the entrance to the hall, brandishing her gnarled walking stick overhead like a weapon.
Her white hair hung in tangled shocks across her stooped shoulders. Her black eyes glittered in her shriveled face, like a rat’s beady eyes from a darkened corner. Her somber robes swept the rush-covered floor with every dragging step. Even the brawniest Highlander in the crowd faded back as she hitched her way to the front of the cavernous room.
Drawing a deep breath, Latharn’s muscles tensed as the old crone edged her way toward him. Tangible power emanated from her swirling aura as he studied her twisted form. This seer’s energies rivaled those of his time-traveling mother. The battering rush of the crone’s malicious emotional onslaught threatened to slam him against the farthest wall.
His mother’s powers had been refined through several generations to her in the twenty-first century. However, her aura had never emitted such waves of energy, not even after magnification through the portals of time.
Immense anger emanated from deep within this old woman, reaching out toward Latharn like a deadly claw. The crone’s soul overflowed with touchable hatred.
Latharn braced himself as a rising sense of dread curled its icy fingers around his spine. He shuddered, swallowing hard against bitter bile as he noticed something else. Thebana-buidhseach’saura seethed with an underlying layer of evil his mother could never possess. The witch’s pulsating energy roiled with a menacing thread of darkness he’d never seen the likes of before.
Cocking her head to one side, a malicious glint shone in her eyes. Her mouth curled into a grimace as she croaked, “What say ye, MacKay cur? Do ye deny robbing my laird’s daughter of her precious maidenhead? Do ye deny ruining her for any other man?”
With a single stamp of her crooked staff upon the floor, enraged lightning responded outside, the flash splintering throughout the room. Everyone in the hall cowered against the walls, shielding their faces from the narrow windows high overhead. The acrid tang of sulfur hung heavy in the air from the burn of the splitting energy.
Theatrics to get her point across. This did not bode well. His hands tensing into clenched fists, Latharn took a deep breath before he spoke. “I fear there has been a grave misunderstanding. I have not been outside the walls of Castle MacKay in the passing of the last five moons.”
“Exactly!” she spat, jabbing her bony finger from deep within her ragged sleeve. Thebana-buidhseachhitched sideways closer to Latharn and shook a threatening fist in his face. “Ye appeared to the lass while she lay in her bed. Your vile essence washed over her silken body by the light of the swollen moon. As your spirit swirled upon the mist of the bittersweet night, ye violated her ripe nest and filled her with your seed.”
Eyes flashing with a mother’s protective rage, Rachel shoved her way between Latharn and the snarling hag. Resting her hand on Latharn’s chest, Rachel stood nose to nose with the crone. “Surely, you don’t believe in such an outlandish tale? The girl could not possibly find herself pregnant in the way you just described.”
The crone hitched her way even closer to Rachel, her dark eyes narrowed into calculating slits. Hissing her reply, her foul breath nearly colored the air around her as she spat through rotted teeth with every word. “Do ye call me a liar, Lady MacKay? Do ye slur the name of Leanna MacKinnett and the honored MacKinnett clan?”
The hall crackled with the conflicting forces of emotional energy as lightning once again splintered the electrified air. Thunder roared, shaking the walls until debris rained down from the rafters.
Rachel circled the wizened old hag. “I’ve nothing to say about Leanna MacKinnett or the good name of the MacKinnett clan. I defend my son’s honor against your lies. I challenge your slander against an honorable MacKay son!”
With a wave of her hand and a narrowed eye, the hag halted Rachel where she stood. The spell she cast silenced Rachel’s voice and paralyzed her body. Sliding around Rachel, she stabbed a gnarled finger into the middle of Latharn’s chest. A demonic smile curled across her face as she sidled her body closer. With a flourish of one hand, she withdrew a ball of swirling glass from the folds of her tattered robe. Her cackling voice rose to a maniacal shriek as she lifted the ball for all to see. “Do ye deny lying with every maiden whose head ye happened to turn? Do ye deny withholding your heart from every woman in which ye’ve ever planted your cock?”
Latharn’s voice fell to a low, guttural whisper as dread gripped him in his gut. “Who are ye, woman? What is it ye seek from me?” An icy premonition, fear of what was to come, stole the very breath from his lungs. Latharn knew in the very depths of his soul there had never been a Leanna MacKinnett. This wasn’t judgment for ruining some woman or the name of her clan. The stench of something much more sinister hung in the air. It rankled with every breath he took.
With a crazed laugh, the shriveled old woman transformed before his eyes. Her dry, tangled hair lengthened into flowing black tresses. Her sallow, wrinkled skin smoothed into creamy silk. Her bent frame straightened, blossoming into a shapely woman, breasts full, hips round and firm.
Her eyes remained black as the darkest obsidian, and her full red lips curled into a seductive, malicious smile. Her voice became a throaty, honey-laced melody, deadly in its hypnotic tone. “Do ye remember me now, my beautiful Highlander? We were together once, you and I. We were lovers, but now I come here as your judge and jailer. And I have found ye guilty of withholding your heart from the only one who truly deserves your love.”
“Deardha?” Latharn recoiled from the seductress bearing down upon him.
As she thrust the deep violet globe into his face, Deardha’s voice echoed across the hall. “Aye, Latharn. Ye remember me now? Listen closely to my words. I condemn ye to this eternal prison. I banish ye to this crystal hell. Ye are far too powerful a charmer of magic to be toying with women’s hearts. No longer will I allow ye to sow your seed with any poor fool who warms your bed. If ye willna pledge your heart to me, then ye shall wish ye were dead.” As Deardha uttered the spell, blinding white energy swirled from the tips of her long pale fingers. The shimmering tendrils flowed and curled, constricting around Latharn’s body.
With an enraged scream, Rachel broke free of Deardha’s binding spell. Forcing her way between Latharn and the witch, she clawed at Deardha’s face.
“Mother, no!” Latharn roared, fighting against the tightening bands of the curse meshed about his body. “Ye must get away from her. Save yourself!” He couldn’t breathe. His heartbeat slowed and the room darkened around him. This must be what it felt like to die. Latharn struggled to focus his eyes.
