Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series)

by Strong, Jennifer

  The attention her companions received was naively unexpected, disturbingly unwelcome; at least to Ailill. One girl in particular raised her ire, the one with the sky-blue eyes; her short blond hair and a high-pitched tinkling laugh set the fiery wee Highlander’s nerves to humming. Jacob had called her Jade and kissed her on the mouth in greeting. Micah had whispered that she was too clingy even as the slim, pretty girl insinuated herself between him and Ailill, clinging to his arm with a death grip, trying to steer him away from the tiny redhead whom she'd intentionally given no more than a passing glance. He carefully extracted his arm, a glance directed at Ailill enough to show that, though she hadbeen his first bonafide lover, Micah had done at least a bit with this particular girl; her knowing gaze swiveled about the room, not surprised to find that kisses were given freely to the popular young woman, reciprocated with an eagerness that made Ailill cringe beneath a carefully worn mask of standoffish inscrutability, seeing such wherever her eyes roamed. Sitting back with an inward groan, she wondered what the hell would possess the twins to bring her to what would ultimately be no more than a Bacchanalia; even at home she had been carefully guarded from situations such as this, spirited away just as night passed into the next day, the witching hour, when even the most upstanding citizens of her own hidden hamlet shed the facade of goodness like a cloak, the inborn nature of them all coming out in a most blatant form of hedonistic revelry. , in all honesty, she hadbeen a virgin up 'til but a few months ago. Even still, the very idea of her being here... Och, it'll definitely not take long for these people to shed their own cloaks, and even less if the ones over in the corner are any clue, she reflected in silent vexation.

  At first an organized affair, with tables of food and a bar filled to brimming with a wide variety of homemade spirits and ale, blah, people chatting companionably on the benches lining the walls around the dance floor or at the tables opposite, the gathering soon picked up. The tempo of the music blasting from speakers on the walls became more rhythmic, a pulsing beat that Ailill felt deep inside, made her stand up, resolutely seeking escape through narrowed eyes. She was not the only one who felt it, but noted with delusory clarity that she was the only one in the room who did not need the addition of alcohol or drugs to be affected by it. She watched from the corner of her eye as Jacob and Micah shared a spliff with the blond Jade, who had apparently made her circuit around the room, returning to stand between them, as if that were her right! The girl’s eyes followed their own to where Ailill was standing a few yards away; the rather pouty lips moved near the ears of both men, saying something crude about their choice of a date, no doubt. She was tall enough that she did not have to shout to be heard above the din, her pale face nearly even with those of the men. Casting an inconspicuous glance down her own length, Ailill cursed softly; she was the shortest person in the entire place, a fact that had never bothered her before. Her choice of dress for the evening seemed only to add to the lack, her small body too well covered, invisible despite the fact that she had worn a more revealing dress beneath; experience had proven just how warm a large gathering of young people could get. She was not the only one to double dress, she noted with a grimace, her eyes on the rapidly filling dance floor.

  When Jade’s irritating laughter rang out over the increasing noise of the party, Ailill’s spine stiffened visibly beneath the blue cotton blouse she had worn, a color Micah said he loved the first time she had worn it; she turned and walked away, instantly despising the very idea that her men, as she had begun to think of them, would even want to be around the ruttish bitch. When she turned back, casting a glance over her shoulder, the shot of whiskey she had just swallowed trailing a pleasant flame down her chest, Ailill saw that the girl had moved, her pale eyes flashing invitingly from a few feet away, near what looked to be a curtained alcove; the dark eyes of both men rested steadily on her while they lit up once again, the aromatic smoke encircling their sleek heads in a blue haze. Flashing them a not too friendly look, Ailill picked up a full bottle from the bar and left the room. She wished desperately for an escape from the entire situation, missing her first love, the only lad she had ever gotten stinking drunk with, far more than she had over the past few months.

  It took no more than a word, spoken silently to herself, to unlock the mental door, as Tiernan had described it to her when she was twelve. It was a defense, this door, against anything unwanted from happening to her, a way to keep herself fully aware even while everyone around was getting sloshed. If she wished to be drunk or sober, she only had to unlock the door. Hehad told her how to unlock it; hehad been by her side when she got falling down drunk the first time; and it was hewho had helped her when her first, and only, taste of vinifera wine had sent her tumbling headlong into the worst incidence of nightmares she had ever had.

  “Och, lad. I wish ye were here,” she muttered, raising the cool bottle to her lips, smiling at the heat that slithered downward, toward the jagged shard of ice that had taken up residence in her belly since she had stepped into the midst of this uncouth, unschooled group of juveniles intent on having an orgiastic good time.

  Orgiastic seemed quite right, to Ailill’s mind, the sounds coming from the smaller side rooms making her uncomfortable just to be standing in the hallway, drinking alone as a light snow began to fall outdoors; the small flakes shimmered like diamonds in the glowing flames of the streetlamps, a steady fall cut momentarily sideways in a gust of chill wind. Turning back toward the noisy revelry, she paused in the doorway, frowning. The overhead lights had been turned off earlier, the room lit with dimmed electrical sconces along the walls for better ambiance. In the quarter hour that she had been gone, those lights had been replaced with colorful strands knotted about the ceiling, making the room almost too dark to see beneath the chasing lights. A strobe flickered rapidly overhead, in time with the pulsating beats of the music, the gyrating bodies seeming to move in slow motion over the dance floor, a primitive call echoed throughout the close-packed forms, the waving limbs. It took awhile to find them, the dark heads of her men invisible in the shadows, the black shirts both had worn adding to the difficulty of seeing where they had gone when neither was where she had left them. Irritated, with them for being invisible to her, off with the damn blond, irritated with herself for showing the jealousy that was not even supposed to be there, the green-eyed monster gaining its head through the flickering light, Ailill strode down the room and sat down on the nearest empty couch, idly checking the bottle in her hand to see that she did not overdo it. Long legs moved close, drew her gaze up just as a strange young man with close-cropped brown hair bent down, a bit too close for comfort, and attempted to ram his tongue down her throat, his efforts squashed with a swift kick to the shin. Making a face at such rudeness, Ailill swilled a bit of whiskey to rid her mouth of the unwanted taste, spat it at the lad's retreating back; turned her eyes to scanning the room as it slowly began to tilt and spin.

  She felt them before she saw them, a sense of being drawn away from the noise, the occasional arm or leg or bared torso that passed by with the lights, her gaze pulled up at once to where they both stood, side by side, unmoving amongst the throng. The darkness of the brother’s eyes pierced her heart, intense with the feelings of letting go of their usual stoic demeanor, long bodies loosened up with more than just the green goddess, apparent when they moved as one toward her. Suddenly uncertain, Ailill quaffed as much of the liquor as she could before they reached her, the half-empty bottle snagged from her fingers with an ease that surprised her. Blinking, feeling downright pissed with drink of a sudden, she saw Micah raise the bottle, eye the level she had left, and say something to his twin before they both drank deeply. Bending down, close to her head, Micah peered into Ailill’s flushed face, her darkened eyes holding him for a long moment.

  “Y’all wouldn’t be trying to get drunk, would ya, Abby?” he nearly yelled, to be heard above the music. Her head shook in answer and a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Aw, you can’t lie
, darlin’. It just ain’t in ya.” Jacob’s face appeared, grinning wolfishly, and he sat down beside her, pulling her hand into his lap.

  “Y’all can’t be getting drunk here, Abby,” he laughed. “Around all these people? That ain’t such a good idea, you bein’ so beautifully innocent and all.”

  “I... can get pissed... wherever I wish it, Jacob,” Ailill answered with a nod. Turning as Micah eased down on her opposite side, she added, “I plan on gettin’ a-stoned as well. When in Rome, ye ken?” Her fingers fluttered vaguely, taking in the mass of drunkards, of heaving bodies, not all dancing. Flashing his twin a surprised look, Micah shook his head at her, the glossy black mass of his hair shimmering with the rainbow colored lights above.

  “Uh-uh, Abby. Nope. Y’all need a level head at one of these things.”

  That struck her as hilarious, seeing the dilation in both man’s eyes, the complete lack of a level head in the entire room. She giggled, amused, found she liked the sound better than the music and giggled again, feeling loads better for it. “Och, how stupid do ye think I am?” she drawled, a dark glint in her eyes. “If ye wanted a chaperone whilst yon pale-faced hoor gropes and fondles ye, aye, you’d be better off askin’ me mother! I intend to have a grand auld time amongst the rabbleo’ my father’s piddling village. How does that sound to you?” Taking the bottle back from Micah, she laughed aloud and sunk back into the softness of the couch, pulling them along with her. Much to Micah’s surprise, she kissed Jacob. After a thorough job of that, she wiped her mouth delicately with a fingertip and set to work on his twin. When she drew away at last, Micah and Jacob stared at one another, perplexed. It was the first time she had initiated anything since she'd gone away for two months, the first time she had really kissed Jacob of her own free will.

  “How does that make ye feel, then?” she asked, forcing them to look at her. “Did ye like it? The sharin’? ‘Tis what you’ll have to get used to... if ye want me!” When neither man answered, she scowled. “Well, and I dinna ken if I like the sharin’ o’ youwi’ all these lassies. Radjy, every one. I dinna like blondie’s hands all o’er you, and she lookin’ to see is the whole room watchin’ ye let her do it. Where did ye go, after I went out for a bit o’ air?”

  A look passed between the two, unmistakeable, and Ailill forced a laugh, hurt.

  “We didn’t leave this room, Ailill,” Jacob said, a gleam in his eyes; a half-truth.

  “Nay, ye didn't. But, o’ course ye wouldn't need to, what with the debauchery going on. Ooh, look how dark it is, Jacob. So easy to hide what is happening.” Turning to Micah, she asked, “What would inspire you to even bring a lass to such a gathering, Micah? Nor yourself, if ye are so pure as you've claimed? Not that I believed it to begin with. Nay, you’ve only given me reason not to believe a word ye say.” He shook his head, unsure how to answer. Ailill jumped to her feet, a ferocious grin on her elfin face, cheeks flushed with spirits, with feelings better ignored.

  “Come, lads,” she called, giving the hands of both a forceful tug, her own natural strength drawing them easily to their feet. “We shall dance a wee bit. I will show ye how it goes at a true Tribal ceilidh,ere I get a few answers as to why you’d everlet such an unsavory mouth as that one touch ye there.”

  Her movements were fluid, graceful, the steps unlike anything either young man had ever seen before, almost primal; her dance was most unusual, absolutely sensual, and in the heat of the packed room, Ailill gave way to the inducement of spirits, mainly her own, showing her true nature completely and without apology as she shed her heavier garments like the others; the pale silken slip-dress she had worn beneath the darker blouse and overskirt fit her like a glove, sparked the attraction of both men to the point where neither could keep away, eyes directed solely on her lush form, her beautiful face; hands reaching for her beneath the flickering light came up empty nearly every time. She gave herself up completely to the rhythms, drawing close to the twin men, pulling away just enough to be out of reach, evading them until neither could stand anymore, each one forcing her still for a kiss before she moved away again, nearly crushing her between them at one point, the heat of long fingers, of large callused hands startling against her already heated flesh. When she tired of the dance, of the feelings she was intentionally bringing out in the two, Ailill spun away, disappearing into the shadows with a husky laugh, trailed by the flames of her fiery hair before either even knew she was gone.

  They found her lounging on the couch where she had been earlier, the rest of the forgotten bottle of whiskey disappearing in thirsty gulps. Excepting the way her head seemed to sway to a different beat than the one playing, she seemed quite sober; the fact that she was far from it very well concealed from those dark, searching eyes.

  “Ain’t y’all dancing anymore, darlin’?” Sitting down to her left, Micah flashed Ailill a pleased grin and lay a large hand on her thigh, a question obvious in the light touch.

  “Nay. I’ve teased you long enough. Both of you,” she burred slowly, looking up at Jacob, sidelong. “In fact, I’m ready to go.” The deep hued eyes of both widened at that, their surprise evident.

  “Go? Go where?”

  “Hidden Jewel, o’ course,” said Ailill. “Snow flies even now, lads. I don't care to trek up the mount in a blizzard.” Unconcerned, both heads shook in unison. Micah’s fingers clamped into the smooth flesh of her thigh, bringing her to an awareness of things she had not given any serious thought to. When he leaned in to kiss her, Ailill turned her head, his lips catching the sharp line of her cheekbone.

  “Come on, Abby. It’s too early to go. We’ve only been here a couple hours,” Jacob said, displeasure clear in his tone. “I don’t wanna leave, and neither does Micah.” He took a seat, pulling her hand into his lap. She could see his jaw clenching and unclenching in the dim light as his gaze scanned the room.

  “Stay for just awhile longer... a few more dances, then we’ll take you home,” Micah drawled, his voice smooth, coaxing, fingers tracing a circular pattern up her thigh.

  Shaking him off, she stood, then wished she hadn’t for the way both pair of eyes swept over her. She shook her head and sat back down. “You are unbelievable, you know that?” she stated clearly. “And if it keeps snowing... what then? Did you plan to keep me here? Amongst the rudest people I’ve ever seen? I do not wish to be stuck in this...this, mphmm, bawdyhouse, throughout a snowstorm, nor through the night. Some strange lad already tried to gag me with his slimy tongue. I can only imagine what else might be forced upon me, the way people look at me.” Glancing about the room, still amoil with heaving bodies, less on the dance floor than on the couches, the floor, even some of the tables, Ailill groaned.

  “Oh, aye. I’d wish to be here,” she growled, feeling a bit ill. “Shall we disappear into yon alcove as you did with the blondie? Perhaps she might wish to join us there, give me a few pointers on ceann-là, or even dàirich, as I am supposedly so innocent! Or did you wish to take me right out in the open, just like all those other lasses are doing?” Ailill gestured emphatically nearby, the increasingly irritating strobe-light making the rhythmic movements of the closest couple seem oddly slow, almost comical. When she turned back she was not smiling. “Well you can fuck that idea, the both o’ you, and you can go fuck yourselves. Or better yet, how ‘bout any o’ the dozen lasses who were a-frothin’ at the mouths when you walked in! It's a certainty you’d have your pick there, as many as you’d like, but it will not be me.” Jumping up, she stalked away, retrieving her things as she passed the table she had tossed them onto. She had to literally tug her capuchin out from under a couple in the hallway, the fact making her angry enough to scream though she held back, cursing a long-winded stream in Gaelic that earned her more than a few curious looks, the eyes of all those strangers ugly to her, plain grays and browns.

  “And of course, not one pair of lovely bejeweled eyes anywhere in this whole horny throng!” she snarled, literally growling aloud at a half-dressed couple nearest to the
exit. Slamming through the heavy doors, at last, she breathed deeply through her nose to rid it of the smells inside, trying in vain to remember the single word, the key, to lock the mental door once again because it wassnowing, just as she had said.

  “Oh, aye, a fuckin’ blizzard.” Muttering to herself, she set off without a backward glance, taking the back way, through Wilderdeep, because it was the shortest distance from this end of the village. Her intention was to leave the brothers far behind, to hole up in her room at the ranch with only herself, a few books, and a cozy fire until the storm blew its last breath. That plan lasted as long as it took to reach the mountain trail, the snow falling so heavy, so fast that she swore half a foot had already covered her tracks; the wind swirled icy tendrils up under her warm clothes so that she cursed the lads once more for talking her into going with them, for looking good enough that she could not have said no had she tried. Head down, she watched her feet sinking deeper in the wintry mess with each step, the wind nearly bowling her over a few times when it gusted against her small form, howling in her ears beneath her hood, through the swaying pine trees turning white before her very eyes. A sound pulled her attention up from the ground, familiar, oddly distant, and she turned, sure she was only imagining it.

  “What the hell?” Squinting, Ailill could just make out two dark forms in the whiteout, Micah and Jacob, dark hair flying on the wind, following not fifty yards behind. Another blast of cold up her skirts unbalanced her and she fell face first into the snow, gasping for breath even before she attempted to right herself. Her nose felt ice-burnt, eyes watering as she wiped away the frosty wetness. Strong hands hauled her to her feet, patted the clumped snow from her cloak with a brusqueness that made her jaw ache.