Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series)

by Strong, Jennifer

  “Hmm. I dunno, Abby. Dreams are kinda... well, personal. They say a lot about a person.” Uncomfortable, Micah looked away, his gaze turned out into the charcoal landscape, a massive smudge in the blue-black of a midnight sky, the same color as his eyes. “I don’t know if I want you to know some things. You might not like me then.” More than embarrassed, he felt suddenly far younger than his twenty years.

  “No,” Ailill argued gently. “More likely, you won't like me. Once you’ve come to know me. I am not just some lass.”

  Clearing his throat with decision, Micah disagreed, shaking his head for emphasis, though she could not see it. “No, you’re not. I loved you since the very first dream, Ailill. I knew it was youwhen Annie said you were on your way, weeks ago, but when I tried to find out about you, no one seemed to know anything, and anyone that did wouldn’t say much. Just speculation, that’s all I got, really.”

  “And?” Ailill leaned closer, the heat rolling off her drawing his head back around. He could almost swear she was fevered. The tips of his fingers tingled with the recent memory of her overheated flesh; he rubbed them hard against the scratchy wool of his kilt, head cocked to one side as he observed her silhouette. “When did you know it was truly me?”

  “What, my dream girl? When I watched you come up the trail behind your grandmother. I saw you and I just knew.” His chagrin was almost tangible. “I’m sorry I watched you. I... couldn’t look away. And then...” He left the rest hanging between them, unsure how to put into words everything he had ever felt for her since that first dream back in Texas; twelve years old, recovering from the most brutal beating he'd ever had from the man he never believed was his real father, and the vision of supernatural beauty had been half-hallucination, the effect of Jacob’s helpful intervention. He still remembered the look of bald fear in his twin’s eyes as Jacob held the hand-carved bowl to his battered lips, urging him to hold in the aromatic smoke though Micah had felt as if his chest would explode, most of his ribs cracked in more than one place by fists as hard as granite. The soothing effect had numbed him, from the torn mouth to the very tips of bruised fingers and toes, a dreamy stupor pulling at his heart until he felt the reality of the fairy-goddess he could see standing beside his bed, her eyes as wide as saucers, full of righteous anger, of sadness, her everyoung face shimmering like gold-dust. His preferred method of escape had been the sweet green goddessever since. Micah half-wished he had a bit now; his heart ached from more than the pummeling his chest had endured once again; it seemed that Kiah had chosen a new favorite, as far as punishments go.

  “I loved you as if you werereal, Ailill. I believed in you with all my heart since I was twelve, even though Jacob used to make fun of me for it. The dreams helped me get through every hardship, helped me save myself, for you; and then, suddenly, they stopped, when we left Texas. That trip took months, always traveling at night, on foot; always careful to cover our tracks ‘cause Kiah insisted... it was like we were bein' chased by something, or someone; we got here the winter before last and I waited for the dreams to begin again but they did not. I figured it was because I had come home, to the place I always knew I was meant to be. The trees, you see," he whispered, gazing out at the darkness of the forest, "the green for miles around, that seemed always to be the backdrop of my dreams; an unreal color, the only thing missing was your fiery hair against the emerald leaves... you.” He stopped, feeling not a little sad, willing the lump in his throat away so that she would not know his true feelings for her, a stranger to all but his heart.

  “I dreamt o’ you, as well, Micah. Only, I knew you were as real as me before I met you in the dreamworld. It was a connection we shared for... six years, before I severed it willfully. Does that sound about right?” Ailill’s tone was apprehensive; she could feel the depths of his own feelings as if they were her own, was rather unsettled by the fact.

  Astonished, Micah nodded soundlessly. “Six years, that’s exactly right,” he agreed when he found his voice. “I... mmm. How? Why?”

  “How is as I said, a connection. Jacob has got it as well, but he denies himself the happiness he seeks, the comfort; that is why he is such an... mphmm, avid lover? With the many lasses he has bedded; heseeks to escape from everything, including me. Why, though...well, I guess that will never be answered completely. We are meant to be, all of us. A chosenfew.” Glancing up quickly at the emphasis she had put on the word, Micah could not help asking why she stopped visiting his dreams. “Oh, well, that is where my selfish nature comes out.” Her tone was so embittered that Micah eyed the girl uneasily, his gaze taking in the barest gleam of copper in her long hair, the sparkle of the diamond in her nostril, nothing more. “I am to be shared, lad. A prize of the highest honor, given freely into the hands of the triple aspect, so that I may bring forth many more. That is my lot in life, my burden to bear.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Och, then, frankness it is, my bonnie raven prince. Very impressive for you to come to the point... It means, Micah, that my sheets will not be warmed by only you, if you choose to lie with me to begin with. It means,” Ailill said angrily, “that I am to be yours, andJacob’s, andTiernan’s, my love back in Scotland, though I don’t know for certain that he will have me after I have lain with both of you. He sent me away, to be with you, and he was damn near dead when he did it!”

  Micah was silent for a long while, his thoughts more jumbled than when he had been drunk, his mind troubled by what Ailill had said. “This guy, in Scotland,” he settled on at last. “What happened to him?”

  “The wretched disease that has killed half o’ mankind.”

  “Oh.”

  “Aye.”

  Micah sniffed softly, took her hand. His fingers tightened ever so slightly, a match to the feeling in his throat at thought of the losses he had suffered, too. He tactfully changed the subject. “He didn’t die, though? Your boyfriend?”

  Hearing her relationship with Tiernan stated in such simple terms made Ailill pause, her gaze trained on the lad before her. She wondered at the possibility that Micah did not recognize the name, seemingly not at all. “No," she said softly, "but I blame myself either way. We, mphmm. Sweet Brigit but the truth is difficult to say!” When she tried to yank her hand away, Micah pulled her closer, holding tight.

  “I’m willing to listen, not place blame. Tell me everything, Ailill, because the next time we are on the brink of makin’ love, I don’t wanna share it with a ghost. Even a living one.”

  “We don't normally have such useless aches, headaches and the like,” she began slowly, leaning into him a bit. “I had been busy tending to a great many who were dying of the sickness, yon horrible plague, and then we were forced to battle. A small feud, but still enough to call a many to arms. Upon returning, I learned that my father had demanded my return to Hidden Jewel. I had, senselessly, let on that I knew where you'd been living, you see, in that wretched desertland, though I'd only just begun to figure it out the year before, and I'd been wrong so many times already. I guess I didn't have faith in myself, for I doubted the truth even when I was fairly certain. Although I voiced the possibility that I was likely wrong again, there was something that made them sure that time. Straightaway, a search was sent out for you, but Kiah had made sure you weren't found; even by then, you'd apparently been gone awhile, and then, in the meantime, you had all shown up here, at my parents home, in the dead o' winter. I was called to return within the week, you see, and, once again, I refused."

  "Well, months passed and I wouldn't5 be swayed. I was determined, quite stubbornly insistent, if you want to know the truth, that I would notcome back here. I refused to hear anyone out. In a single last effort, Tiernan took it upon himself to give me the bad news, that you'd both become too comfortable here, amongst the villagers, that Jacob had taken to hoorish ways while you, Micah, had become introverted, spent all your time in the forest. The Elders deemed it to be too dangerous for us all if I didn't come, at least to meet you. James a
nd Annie insisted I return to them, supposedly to help you better adapt to the lifestyle you will live amongst your true peers, though I knew their reasons were far more self-serving than that. James had the nerve to obtain an achd, a decree signed by the Ard Banrigh, Herself, to remove me, bodily if necessary, to Hidden Jewel. Tiernan was honest, forthright about all of it, as he had been about everything a few years ago when he clued me into my fate, the truth o' my obligations to the Tribe. I was furious, and rightly so. I had fought against my return for two years. I believed I had won, ye ken, and I didna wish to leave my home, nor my love, for I truly love the lad, but it seemed I had been given no choice. I fought with him over it, taking out all my feelings on him as I always had, only that time, I lost control; he sided with my parents, see, and I felt the betrayal like a dirk plunged deep in my heart." Her voice was low, husky with the memories dredged up, face turned away, in shadow; in shame.

  "I struck him, which is never acceptable. It is the first Law, and I broke it. Tiernan just stood there, takin’ all my fury with a warrior’s stoicism, and then he kissed me. It was not the first time we’d kissed, only... I wouldn't let him stop that time. I knew how he wanted me, as I wanted him, though it isn't for him, my innocence well guarded, a gift for one of you. I believe I talked him into claimin’ it anyway; we would face the consequences after the fact, and show our love as we had wished for so long. When we, Tiernan and I, were just about as close to, hmm, sacrificing my innocence, as you and I were in yon kitchen, he suddenly fell terribly ill; the headache which he had complained about since returning from battle not long before, well... I had ignored it as the most obvious sign of something amiss, though the signs were crystal clear. As a healer, I had failed the lad. Utterly. He thought he had hurt mewhen he saw the blood.”

  Micah could not hide his agitation at hearing her recount the intimacy she'd shared with another. His leg joggled against the swing until Ailill stilled it with a light touch. His fingers curled convulsively over her own, jealousy humming through his veins. When she began to talk about blood, he misconstrued her meaning and became angry.

  “Y’all lied to me then,” he accused harshly, interrupting. “I thought you were a virgin, that you were cryin’ ‘cause I came so close to taking it! I felt terrible for you, Ailill, and I don’t hold with lyin’.”

  Unable to hide her surprise at his outburst, Ailill yanked her hand away with a forceful tug. “I ama virgin! I didn't lie!” she cried vehemently. Anger swept over her with a swiftness that would have been surprising, if she had not been fighting it for so long already. “I cannot lie, 'tisna possible! The blood was his, ye fuckin’ arse,” she hissed, furious. “When ye moaned, in the kitchen, I began to believe you were him, expected you to be bleedin’ out all over me, like hedid. The vision was so real, I cannot tell you how it affects me. Tears are naught; the filthof such a disease! I tried to heal him, he screamed at me to go, to let him die alone; he said he hatedme, for everything I had ever done! For bein' alive. He made me swear to come to you and Jacob or he would make sure he died after all. I didn’t have a choice! I swore to hate you and I cannot. I swore to stay away and I am drawn to ye, Micah. You don’tknow me, not a single thing of import have I shared, but I know you. I know yer past and yer future as if they were me own! Like lightning to the earth, we are compelled toward one another. ‘Tis in your eyes. I was so ready, so willin’ against my will, but when I believed ye to be him, I wanted to, mphmm, wanted-”

  When he could take no more, Micah cut off Ailill’s ranting with his mouth, the force behind his kiss mercilessly stealing her breath, the hardness of his teeth splitting the tender skin inside of her lips until she tasted blood, her own this time. When she moved to pull away, he bit her lip with surprisingly sharp teeth, pain making her eyes water even as his fingers wound through her damp hair, holding her tight against himself, still, as his tongue flicked over the blood he had drawn; a sound rumbled deep within himself, of ecstasy, need, his baser instincts bringing out a forcefulness he had believed he did not possess. The pain of sharp fingernails digging into the skin of his arms brought a gasp to his lips, breaking the connection momentarily, long enough for his teeth to clamp down against her throat, tongue moving in a circular pattern that made her writhe against him at last, as she had earlier. The tiny punctures he made, drawing blood, startled Ailill into awareness, his erection rising up between her thighs too close to triumph.

  Not here, not like this, her mind commanded clearly. The sleek darkness of his head rose up from her tender throat as if he had heard her. He had; kissing her again with a thoroughness that nearly made her forget herself, Micah lifted her into his arms, carried her into the dimly lit living room, and up the stairs, remembering from before which room was hers, though he had never been inside. The cool sheets rose up to meet them, a stark contrast to their heated flesh, and he lay beside her, his head full of her scent, his mind full of her. Moving away, taking a moment to catch his breath, to remove his moccasins, his shirt with careful precision despite the fearful hammer of his heart. He left his kilt in place until she wished to remove it, a barrier of sorts, in case the girl changed her mind. When he turned back to her, Micah blinked in surprise. Ailill had fallen asleep, her fingers resting on the half faded bite marks he had left on her neck.

  Sighing heavily, regretting the fact very much, he lay down, watched her sleep, ignoring the damp that drifted over the room through the open window, a promise of rain. It had taken him some time to become accustomed to the mountains, the temperature in the summertime far cooler than where he had grown up, the winters so cold at times that he dreaded going out of doors, usually spent most of his time sitting near a small fire in the cabin that had been the first home in the area, before James had built the ranch; a massive undertaking, he mused, eyeing the heavy log beams across Ailill’s ceiling. Three stories high, the entire thing made of logs bigger around than the average man, he wondered idly how the guy had managed; it had to have taken years and James Mackintosh wasn’t even close to middle age yet. Staring over at Ailill’s face, relaxed in sleep, he noticed how much she still looked like a child. A beautiful child. The thigh-length nightie only added to the effect, the soft linen ruffle about the neckline, extremely feminine, softened the rounded swell of her breasts, diminished them somewhat. He’d been mighty surprised that she was so well endowed, her small frame blessed with a perfect hourglass figure; but not fat, he reminded himself with a shake, the etched lines of amazingly well-developed musculature seen clearly in the scattered bits of moonglow. Full woman, childlike innocence. And nursing a badly broken heart. He took the time to replay all that she had said, sorting the reality from the damn crazy babbling she had resorted to. She makes no sense, none at all; and still, he could not get her out of his mind. Laying here ain’t helping in the least, either, he decided, the closeness of her, the warmth, the fact that ya almost had her twice and still have your own damn virginity to show for it.Moving slowly from the bed, he left the room with a last wistful look, and went to search out his twin or a shower, knowing that one would be available. He needed time to think, to decide if sharing the girl might be an option he could live with, if she had been speaking honestly when she said that. “I can wait as long as it takes,” he quietly reiterated to himself. “But I will have her.”

  Clash of Wills

  The glaring noonday sun beat down on the damp earth, glinted off small puddles that lay beneath thick, emerald green tufts of grass that had fallen in on themselves during the previous night's downpour, giving the impression that the ground had released its hold on a treasure trove of jewels in a great whiff of steam. The heat was tremendous; the sun's fiery caress burned the backs right through shirts that clung to the sweat soaked skin of a small group of spectators who had gathered near a timber fence to watch. Most wore hats, the wide Stetson brim shading the still faces of both farmhands and Mackintoshes alike from the intensity of the bright orb as each pair of eyes beneath shifted constantly back and forth, ba
ck and forth, watching the ongoing duel with rapt attention.

  Ailill had been truly angry by the time she returned home, alone, nearly an hour earlier. Obstinately refusing her father's placating offer to wait a few days, she had growled, "forget the fuckin' sticks", the wooden swords used for practice, grimly gathered up her own impeccably cared for weaponry and headed for the meadow above the stables without a backward glance. James' expectations for the night before had been too much, his demands for this day unreasonable, unfair. In her mind's eye, Ailill could see herself, locked in a never ending battle to protect her own carefully guarded innocence and the man, this stranger who had sired her, wished her to just give in; to fling her purity to the four winds at his command, as if he had ever had any right to order her about. She'd left him with a resounding Nay!, as well as a few choice words, only to return because the objects of her father's fascination, the twin ravens, were still at the ranch; last thing she needed was any one of her kin opening their cursed maw to the two lads whom she had stayed up talking with 'til all hours on the second night they'd stayed. No, she'd come to discover that she liked the two very much, had felt almost happy for the first time in many long months, and James had nearly succeeded in dashing it all to hell!

  A tornado of raging fury from the first clash of steel on steel, Ailill was still going strong; thrusting, parrying, whirling effortlessly on her toes away from her father's jabs, thwarting any attempt he made to overtake her with an unapologetic strength and grace to rival his own.

  The sun sparked off the highly polished metal of the broadswords like lightning, each clang of the blades producing a miniature blaze that fizzled out with a whiff of smoke as each molten ember fell to the wet ground. Rivers of sweat poured from the bodies of the two master duelists as each tried to outmaneuver the other; soaked from scalp to ends, the strands darkened with wet so that Ailill's gleamed deep chestnut while James' shone like black velvet beneath the sun's rays, the long manes of both dripped in a continual patter over the ground beneath their mud-spattered legs and moccasined feet, occasionally spraying outward to hit the crowd like raindrops when either of the two whirled around on a steady heel. Muscles bulged, hardened to oak with the efforts of each and Ailill's sun-browned skin glowed in the shimmering light, slick and smooth, firm and rippling; a most awesome sight.