Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series)

by Strong, Jennifer

  Her family encouraged her freedom, in most every aspect, and in the end had been rewarded with an unbelievably gifted, perfectly disciplined and unusually beautiful young woman who knew enough to have never before so unwittingly placed herself into a position which could compromise her virginity, which had always been strictly guarded. Her innocence had its own purpose within the life she was expected to lead. But, her guardians were nowhere now, the saving of herself was a task which she did not mind; she had stopped caring about it; had become careless since leaving her home, since leaving her first true love behind. She, honestly, hadn’t thought about it at all in many long months, there had been no need. And then she met Micah and Jacob. She did not know how to stop herself from giving them both all they would ever desire.

  The experience with Micah and Jacob, seemingly innocent in any regard, had been one hell of a slap in the face, given the minuscule amount of her own experience in that particular area. She had had to practically drown herself in order to keep away from their nakedness, their long, lithe bodies, so strong. Even drunk, she had been fully aware of the masculinity of them, the musky scent of their sweat. It had carried over into her dreams. As had the twin kiss. The heat of them within the cool water, the taste of them both...

  One hell of a physical awakening.

  She had never felt so absolutely unsure of herself.

  And she had never, not once in this entire short life, felt so completely, so continually, aware of her own body as in the past weeks. The feeling she had nearly given into, pure unadulterated desire for the dark twins, was one which, though she had experienced something similar before, had never been so strong. Her need, her wish, for Micah, who wasto be her first, to take her tonight, to do all manner of things to her, to pass her on to his own twin for still more, was an adrenaline rush unlike any she had ever felt before. A purely primal instinct. As natural to her and her own kindred spirits as survival was to mankind. It had surprised her to still be innocent when she awoke, the dream had been so real, yet Micah was nowhere to be found; it had surely been just a dream. Her body ached for him, a hungry, desperate need, grown more insistent with each passing year since her small body had completed the change. It was a veritable call to arms that she could not ignore and yet, she was just not ready for all that opening herself to any man would entail... not ready to be shared.

  Despite her promise, she had no choice but to leave, as soon as possible; just as she had no choice but to return again; her fate was predestined, simply out of her hands.

  Ailill stopped where she was, at a crossroads both literally and figuratively. Her toes touched the edge of the newer trail, the foliage flattened into the dirt, packed down by constant foot traffic. Her heels rested on the cushion of ferns. Her old life, her childhood, lay back the way she had come; the softness of that path was deceptively misleading; it was the same place she had first seen her future, in the velvet-black eyes of a six year old boy, a small Prince of darkness. Her new life, the sudden shift into adulthood, lay before her. Turning her head, her eyes sought the tiny, nearly invisible tracks of her light tread behind with the keenness of a hunter in the dark, of a being used to walking through the shadows. If she chose, she knew, she could turn about where she was and go back the way she had come, back to the innocence of childhood. Back to her life before she met the twins. Back to Tiernan? Perhaps. With an inaudible sigh she turned her gaze forward, her body leaning slightly to see up the trail.

  She had come back to the forest to choose, her last dream, pointing out the correct path to take, only led her up to this point. It was up to her now. She found that she was unsure of herself once again. An all too common occurrence since returning to her parent's home. Rocking slightly from heel to toe she called up an image of the two tall, long-haired men, as beautiful as any she had ever seen. The brothers were like two halves of one man. So alive...so perfect. They had no idea that even together neither would ever be complete.

  Her feet moved of their own accord, stepped over the brink and up the path. Stopping, Ailill replayed the scenes in vivid detail in her mind, every chance she had carefully avoided while with the brothers; her young, ripe body responded, committed to memory the feelings within as she moved on.

  The roses, just beginning to blossom, held the same pungency as she remembered from childhood, almost overpowering her as she stepped up to the small pond, Rosewater. Quickly stripping down to bare skin, she dove in, her heated body contracting in the cool water, stiffening luxuriously as her temperature slipped back towards normalcy. Climbing out, her gaze settled upon a forgotten blanket spread out beneath a tree; she did not remember seeing it there tonight. Stepping over to it, she lay down, noting, as she stretched out on her bare back, the sweet/musky smell of the two men within the damp folds of the cloth that instantly wafted up to mingle with the scent of ozone that lay thick in the still air. Had they swam in the pond this morning, before James had made her angry enough to seek escape? Possibly watched, unseen, while she had worked her father's herd shortly after dawn? Had they lain on the blanket to dry? Alone, she noted with relief. Theirs was the only scent her well-tuned nose detected.

  Her eyes searched the treetops, looking for the next flash, seeing it almost instantly. The moon was nearly covered now and she jumped slightly, startled by a sudden clap of thunder that rolled overhead, vibrating through the ground beneath her. As she watched, sheet lighting arced across the sky in a spiderweb pattern that burned into her retinas, leaving blood red streaks behind her closed lids, and she called up the image of the brothers once again. Thunder moved closer, the storm nearly over the mountain now, and her pulse quickened in excitement, in fear; once more, her mind added faces to the feelings beginning to pulse deep within. Three faces, nearly the same, though one was turned from her, in silhouette. Another deafening clap of thunder, the vibration of the earth below rolled through her body, making her breath come quick, pulse racing. Her small hands roamed over her full, ripe body; exploring; truly discovering herself for the first time, and she was shocked at her response, appalled that she had used it as a tool, a weapon, when it was capable of so much more. The throbbing deep within kept time with her panting breaths and on the next rolling, vibrating, deafening roar a small scream escaped her as her hips jerked with involuntary paroxysms of ecstasy, making her understand what it must be like for the raven twins, the desire so wrought in their eyes each time either looked upon her. Making her selfishly want them both after all.

  The rain washed over her in sheets, chilling her overheated body in a steaming deluge, and Ailill forced herself to lie still as the large stinging drops beat out a rhythm on the surface of her flesh that echoed the pulsebeat deep within. She had never felt so incredibly erotic; so completely fulfilled. The events of two summers ago had opened her eyes, her mind, despite the overall experience of nearly losing her first love. Her time with Tiernan, before that fateful day, had planted the seed in the primitive recesses of her brain, made it impossible to ignore these two men though she tried, valiantly, to fight it. The storm had awakened her untouched body to its most basic animal instincts, the knowledge of sexual awareness, of desire, and it had, quite literally, rocked her to the core. She could not move for a long while, did not want to, as the pounding of her heart settled back into a normal rhythm and her muscles, drawn taut below the surface of her skin in succor, relaxed into lucidity with the drumming massage of the downpour.

  When she felt like herself once again, she stood on shaky legs and slipped back into the pond to bathe, frowning slightly in distaste as she washed away slickness from between her legs. Smiling at the knowledge that the two tall, powerful, beautiful young men could, and would, if she allowed them to, bring her to the same dizzying heights of awareness as the storm had, she slowly slipped beneath the surface.

  Two pair of dark blue eyes, thickly fringed with black lashes, watched from the shadows under the overhanging roof of the veranda as Ailill silently stepped out from the dense black of the forest
. They had seen her, not believing that she was real when she had vanished into the warm, humid night like a smoky spirit, leaving nothing behind but an eerie feeling of emptiness in the hearts of the two young men. The rain poured over her head in a continuous wave, flattened her long hair so that the delicate shape of her skull became visible beneath; soaking the thin fabric of the thigh length nightgown she wore into transparency, moulding it to the voluptuous curves of her body. A blinding flash of white hot lightning streaked across the sky overhead, burning the image of her nakedness beneath the gown forever into the memories of the two men as she stood fearless below the blaze of the atmosphere, her small, muscular arms stretched out at her sides, face tipped toward the heavens in expectation; a stubborn set to her head and shoulders, as if she were daring the mighty Thor to smite her where she stood. She turned slowly, ignoring the pelting rain, paying homage with a nod to the four airts. Eyes closed, her lips moved in a rhythmic chant, soundless below the continuous rumble of thunder. Her feet, bare and dainty, began to move over the thirsty earth, slowly at first, speeding up as they stepped and kicked in a dance more primal than any either man had ever witnessed before. Lightning arced continually back and forth across the charcoal sky, sparking off the bands of interlaced silver and gold around her ankles and wrists, her neck; her bonds, symbols of quasi-slavery, in a sense, though to whom she was enslaved, neither knew; as if in answer to her call, the otherworldly fires above lit the graceful movements of the true fairy-woman from within.

  Drawn by the unusual performance of the beautiful Ailill, dark eyes widened in wonder, unable, unwilling to look away, even to blink, Micah and Jacob both knelt by the railing of the porch, watching. There had been a change in her over the past days; very subtle, but evident. A loosening in her joints, a bold sensuality in the sinuous movements of her lithe, firm body. They watched in fascinated awe and all at once both men knew, on some basic level, that somehow her time in the forest had awakened her and that what they were witnessing was her thanksgiving; her answer to the primitive call of her body.

  The frenzied movements of her dance slowed with the storm. The soft patter of drizzle shooed her away, back toward the tree line and she stood still, breathless and dripping, as the moon peeked out once again from behind the clouds, staring across the yard into the wide, gleaming eyes of Micah and Jacob Mac Morna; a slow smile spread across her face, lighting up her elfin features at the unexpected sight of them. In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

  The Little Death

  The ripe, rich scent of dung was almost overpowering after yesterday's heat; it wafted between the outbuildings, through open windows, trailed about the ground like a smelly vine. Micah was pretty sure he smelled better, even after three days wearing the same clothes, but Jacob would soon change that, as long as he could slip into the tiny cabin, retrieve a stack of clean clothes, and slip out again unnoticed. Ahot shower would be nice, he mused as he followed the pungent odor, seeking the source, and Ailill.

  None too talkative this morning, the Mackintoshes headed down the mount after pointing him in the general direction of their daughter. Apparently still angry at her family over the deceit she had uncovered, Ailill had not shown up for breakfast; sitting at table amongst the farmhands had been uncomfortable, a tangible frustration over the lack of the girl's presence hung thickly in the air. James and Annie fairly prickled with it and Fallon had seemed to silently loom over the room at large, like a queen watching over her own personal serfs. The workers had eaten as fast as Micah had ever seen them, disappeared within ten minutes to begin work for the day, leaving a tower of dirty dishes in their wake. Feeling badly for the mess, the men normally rinsed and stacked, he'd stayed behind to help the maid, a small woman with wren-brown hair and sharp, birdlike features, and who went by the unlikely name of Ellfie, to clear away the mess. Why the Mackintoshes kept a maid was beyond Micah; their massive home was always impeccably clean, as if an army of maids went through the place ten times a day to wipe away all traces of habitation.

  This Ellfie proved to be a gossipy type, which Micah had found irritating right off. He did not give a damn who was seeing whom down in Willow Wisp, or who had broken what law, or who's family would be moving to the area come Fall. The majority of the he said-she saidfell on deaf ears, until the blathering maid said a name that hit him like a fist in the gut.

  He'd been wondering where Ailill was all morning, she was at the forefront of his mind; the maid mentioning her name with an oh-so-casual air put him instantly on his guard and he looked at her so sharply that she flinched.

  "What about Ailill?" he demanded, not at all casual in tone or demeanor.

  "Oh, well, the daughter of the Mackintosh, she's leavin', Sir; next week at the latest."

  He really hated being called Sir; it made his skin crawl. He and Jacob had come to this place with far less than most people; not even a spare change of clothes, the plaids wrapped tightly about their half-frozen shoulders worn through in spots. It had been embarrassing, to say the least, and even then the workers had spoken to them as if they were something better than the poor boys they had always been. It had taken weeks to get everyone to call them by their given names.

  "Please," he said, nostrils flared in irritation at the chirpy woman. "Don't call me Sir. I am Micah, that is all. And what do you mean Ailill is leaving? Where'd you hear that?"

  Though she had shrunk back at his rather harsh tone, Ellfie took the proverbial bait and sat down after a quick glance around to be sure they were alone. Micah pulled out the chair nearest and sat, his innards clenching hard enough to make him feel ill.

  "Everyone's talkin' about it, S- mmm, uh, Micah. They're all sayin' that the old woman with the ghostly eyes demanded that Ailill... mmm, well, couple with... you, and with your brother, the first night she was here, and when the girl refused to do it she was threatened with never returning to Scotland as long as she lives." Pausing, Ellfie glanced about, making certain they were still alone, though in this house it had often seemed the exact opposite, as if the very walls had ears and hid vast secrets which she could not even begin to fathom. She leaned closer to the handsome man, as if she'd always been his closest confidant, though his beautiful eyes remained hooded, as always.

  "It seems," she went on in a half-whisper, "that Ailill's decided to leave anyway, and since the woman lied to her, about her friends dying and all, she has chosen to just do it get it over with so she can go home. She hates it here, everyone says so, and there's word that she hates her parents for sending her away when she was a baby, only to insist that she come back now, to live here at Hidden Jewel." The narrow cheeks pinkened appropriately with the admission, but her eyes gleamed with an odd light as she looked him over, a hunger for yet more news to spread. Micah was disgusted by the woman's tactics, cursed himself silently, viciously, for falling so readily into her trap.

  "And? What of it?" he demanded after a moment, easily feigning prior knowledge of all she had said. The close-set brown eyes widened in surprise.

  "Oh, well, I didn't think you knew, is all. I know how much you like her; everyone does, and if she plans to use you just to leave, well..." Ellfie fidgeted under Micah's cold scrutiny, almost too frightened of the huge, intimidating man to look away.

  "Yeah, so? Who wouldn't like a woman as beautiful and intelligent as Ailill? Who wouldn't want to be used by the likes of her?" He flashed a wicked grin, leaned close as if the bird-woman were hisclosest confidant; so close that her nostrils flared delicately with the minted scent of his hot breath. "Hell," he went on, seeing his effect on the tiny bird, liking the power he suddenly felt course through his veins. He had a fair amount of pride, after all, despite his meager beginnings. "Who wouldn't want to bed her as often as possible in a day?" the man queried, his tone dangerously soft. "Who wouldn't want to fuck her senseless, break her overused sense of self-worth like the bitch that she is? I know I would, if I could get her cornered long enough to lay a finger, or a tongue, on that luscious body;
give me long enough to lift that tiny skirt and I'd fuck her like a dog." Reaching out one long finger, he flicked the front of the woman's blouse just over her left breast, hard enough to make her jump in startlement, one thin, work worn hand coming up to cover the pebbled nipple beneath. Answering the movement with a wolfish grin, he whispered, "Y'all ever been fucked like a dog, Ellfie?"

  Emitting a strangled gasp, her head shook rapidly side to side. She leaned as far as the back of the chair would allow and stared at him with dawning horror. Barking a laugh, he half-stood, loomed over her in the most menacing stance he could muster, and growled, "Maybe that's 'cause y'all talk too damn much, ya gossipy wench. Maybeif you'd shut your mouth for five minutes a man might see something attractive in you, and maybe, just maybe, if you could stop spreading tales about your leader's private lives, and that of every other person in town, you'd get the chance to be fucked like a dog, Ellfie Quinn. Fucked into submission like a bitch in heat."