Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series) (13 page)

After spending all of her free time in the company of the darkly handsome twins, Ailill found herself as captivated by them as they obviously were by her. Especially Micah, the watcher, who seemed shy for all his size and obvious strength, giving his twin the floor throughout most of the conversations they had had with an ease that made it quite clear to the young woman that it had always been so. His silence did not come across as rudeness or a lack of interest as one would expect. In fact, the exact opposite seemed to be true; Micah’s deep blue gaze caught and held her own eyes most of the time while Jacob talked on about nothing of any real significance. The people he spoke of, citizens of Willow Wisp, were as unknown to Ailill as she was to them. There hadn’t been more than a few dozen inhabitants in the town when she left for Scotland more than a decade before. Apparently it had grown immensely since then but she felt no desire to meet anyone else; she had plans brewing for a return to Scotland, as soon as she could bring herself to carry out her reason for being back on Jewel Mountain in the first place. Her mind wandered frequently to that particular conundrum as Jacob’s low voice drawled on and on each day. She found her interest in the quiet one growing quite rapidly and it startled her, the eyes of the incredibly good looking lad holding her attention too easily, showing a similar expression in the dark depths as the one she knew was in her own. Each time their eyes met, Ailill and Micah both felt the spark of instant attraction. It was difficult to tear her gaze away, even more difficult when the friendly visits came to an end to pull herself away, which is why she had asked them to come home with her in the first place though, perhaps naively, she had not thought much past eating.

Despite the way that both stared at her constantly over the meal, shared beneath the vivid hues of a setting sun, supper went well; she was pleased with the lads, more than she cared to admit. They were both downright likable, in
almost
every way. She had once sworn never to meet them, had promised she would hate them forever and a day. The fact that she
liked
them, both of them, was disarming; she knew them, or had thought she did, even if they did not know her, but the reality of the bonnie lads left her quite breathless. When they spoke plainly to her, the lazy drawl of their speech pulled at her, words of admiration, blatant in the way each man flirted with her, held her attention like a tether ball, swiftly volleying back and forth. She began to see the error of inviting them soon after the meal, the fact that only she knew where her family was gone to hanging over her head like a smothering blanket; she would be alone for the night, possibly two, and although she refrained from mentioning that, it almost seemed as if both had guessed. It also seemed that neither were too willing to leave her completely alone on the mount. Odd... careful questioning had proven that they did not know anything about her; and, if they knew anything of themselves, it was not forthcoming.

They helped her clean up, an easy excuse for staying longer;  insisted on helping her settle the animals in stall and pen for the night after learning that it was the helps' night off, dragging things out until she began to wonder if
she
were the only reason neither man wished to go home.
Hardly, lass
, she mused as she watched them walk about the stables, the two moving as one beside each other, a lightness in the mirrored steps that she was sure was not usually there, she thought of a way to pass the evening to her own advantage, cringing at her audacity even as she set her expression into a sweet smile, beckoning them to follow her back to the house.

The mugs of frothy beer drunk with dinner were a special brew, much higher in alcohol content than the paler ales the twins had become used to since living in the area. Urging more of the drink on them after chores, a necessary evil if she was to discover more about them yet keep the two at bay, Ailill was briefly surprised when both politely declined. The brothers lived with a man who spent most of his waking hours drunk; they had taken pains not to become like him, a fact which Micah related in a softspoken voice, his eyes taking on a rather hunted look when they moved to the darkness beyond the veranda, knowing that if Kiah took it into his head that he wanted them home he would come looking for them, possibly putting Ailill in danger of all manner of things. It was not beyond imagining for his father to take a woman he wanted, the two had seen him do it before. Understanding far better than Micah would ever know, the sudden image that floated up behind her far seeing eyes infuriated Ailill.

“
We are safe here,” she stated with calm surety, eyes gleaming, hard as blue steel. “There are wards in place over every square inch of this mountain. I placed them myself. You may be as carefree as you wish, Micah. I won't blame you at all for wantin’ a bit o’ relaxation, lad, nor for any way you wish to come by it.” Her determination wavered only slightly with the look that came at once into the dark blue of his eyes, a flame so bright she was half sure it would burn her if she so much as touched him. “Well, perhaps that isn't completely true,” she added in a half-whisper, glancing over to where Jacob stood in the shadows, listening. “We all have our limitations, after all.”

Softening the intensity of his gaze, Micah reached for the mug in Ailill’s tiny fist. “That we do,” he agreed softly, his fingers lightly caressing the smooth skin at the back of her hand, the touch a tentative question before he took the drink she had offered and quaffed it, wiping dribble from his clefted chin with the back of his hand. “It ain’t like we never drink, Ailill, or anything else, either,” he said after a moment to catch his breath. “Hell, our personal preference is smokeable, less filling in the gut.”

She noticed Jacob’s back stiffen beneath the ghostly white of his shirt; a bare shoulder shined palely when his dark head turned, showing his face in profile. “But, we’ll stick with the strong beer, darlin’,” he cut in smoothly, an odd note to his voice. “If that’s all y’all are offerin’.”

His words made Ailill wonder if the two had figured out what she was about, her plan to get them drunk enough to talk, to reveal how much they knew of themselves and of her; too intoxicated to try anything she did not want, backfiring before she had a chance to see if it would work. Unaffected by the thought, she grinned magnanimously, lifted the second mug to her lips and drained it as if it were water, certain that they would either follow her lead or believe that she would soon be too drunk to care, too easy to compel.
Oh, but they are in for a surprise
, she mused, reaching beneath the swing for a bottle of very well aged Scotch. 

While she was pleasantly numbing a constant ache that had taken up residence in her heart over the past months, the lads seemed to be getting, quite literally, sloshed. Micah’s tongue loosened considerably with the spirits; she found that he had the same charming ability to speak his mind, however bawdy, as Jacob did without alcohol. His come-ons were softspoken, clearly meant. Less inhibited, Micah asked her a great many questions which she normally would have deemed too personal to answer, and yet she did, as honestly as possible without revealing her true nature, all the while his deeply hued eyes alight with the attraction she had sensed for weeks. He tended to stare harder, too, she soon noticed. Ailill stared back in silent wonder, her eyes roving boldly over he and Jacob, hungry for the many characteristics that proclaimed them to be of her own kind, her own people easily recognizable to one another. The resemblance to her first love only made her look harder, seeking out the differences, which were a sad few; she did not bother to hide the fact that she was looking, either; it was not her way to hide. Moving into the light of the cozy living room to play a game that Jacob had laughingly called quarters, Ailill gazed between them both with open appreciation, seeing beauty in every square inch she set her gaze upon, from the dark glossiness of their long, straight hair to the graceful curve of each well formed muscle beneath inherently bronzed skin.
Exquisite
, her mind coerced over and over, her eyes tracing the clean, chiseled lines of high cheekbones, strong jawlines;
as perfect as they come, and why not? They are of your own ilk
. It was all she could do to keep her thoughts on the unusual new game, the shiny silver quarters a form of currency taken out of distribution long ago when running a hand, or an eye, along a scanner could buy a person just about anything their greedy little heart desired. Jacob carried the now worthless coins around in a tiny pouch for just such an occasion. His pleasure on learning that Ailill had never even heard of such a thing had been evident, his eyes flashing knowingly when they met Micah’s over her head, until she proved a good aim nearly every time the shiny coin made it into the heavy shot glass, forcing him to drink when he had expected it to be the other way around.

“
Y’all can’t be that good, darlin’, if ya ain’t never played b'fore,” he slurred after her sixth quarter clinked on the smooth rim, falling dead center into the bottom where it winked merrily in the flickering light of lanterns. Ailill did not care for the artificial light of electric bulbs, and had spent a good ten minutes setting out as many of the small glass lamps as she could, the squat beeswax candles melting slowly down inside each one making the room smell like honey.

Ailill sniffed delicately and flashed a smug grin, eyes shining a deep emerald in the yellowed light. “Och, then laddie,” she burred, at ease enough to slip into her native tongue. “I am no the one who’s drunk, now am I?” Laughing, she added, “Didna ken that Scots drink like the wee fishies in the sea, did ye? We raise our bairns on the water o’ life, to be sure.”

“
Y’all ain’t truly a Scot,” he countered, raising the glass she had poured moments before with a good-natured shrug. Micah watched his twin with narrowed eyes, not quite sure if the man was flirting because he was drunk or just in a good mood. Jacob had maintained his own careful distance since the day they met Abby. “Annie says you were raised right here, on Jewel Mountain, ‘til you were four,” Jacob added lightly, hoping she could not see just how far gone he really was. “That makes you as
American
as us, darlin’.”

Her look was intense, eyes darkening momentarily with the denial that rolled easily from her tongue. “Nay, Jacob. Truth be told, yer as
Scottish
as I am, as any born in the Heilan’s.” Grinning in amusement, she added, “darrrlin’,” and bounced another quarter off the table, missing on purpose to take Jacob’s attention off herself, if only for the moment. He cheered noisily, sloshing whiskey from the glass as he passed it over the table, his grin triumphant when Ailill downed it in a single gulp.

Micah watched her carefully, less intoxicated than his twin so far, but not by much. Enough to see that she had deliberately aimed a bit to the right, the coin bouncing off the side of the glass, into his lap; he smiled back when she met his eye, dimpling prettily up into his face. “God, you’re beautiful,” he couldn’t help saying aloud. He wondered if she had ever been kissed, wished he could get up the nerve to do it, and handed her back the coin.

“
Aye, and ye are truly gone wi’ drink, Micah,” she countered, feeling a bit tipsy despite her unusual ability to handle spirits. “Perhaps we should stop awhile?” Her eyes glowed almost invitingly but when he leaned toward her, Ailill stood up quite suddenly. “I believe I shall make ye a bracer, to keep the whirlypits at bay,” she said quickly, moving back a couple steps, rapidly retreating into the kitchen where she leaned against the wall just inside the doorway, out of sight of the twins. Her heart was pounding mercilessly, breaths coming in soft pants, as if she had run for miles. When she noticed that her knees were trembling, Ailill clenched her fists, wanting to be rid of the feelings the men evoked in her, seeing, at last, the error in having them here.
Perhaps I should send them home after all
, she thought miserably, knowing that she would not when the sight of Micah’s lips rose up unbidden, the intensity in his blue eyes when he had come so close to showing her how good it might be to kiss him, as she had been wanting to do all night; as she had wanted to do for many weeks now. Closing her eyes, she sent out a silent plea for forgiveness, feeling as if she were betraying the only man she had ever truly loved; she nearly jumped out of her skin when long, warm fingers suddenly curled around her wrist.

“
Abby? Y’alright?”

“
Och, aye,” she huffed anxiously, her hand coming up to rest over her hammering heart. “Ye startled me, is all, Micah.” His fingers tightened, pressing the wide bracelet into the tender underside of her wrist, drawing her gaze up to eyes turned black beneath the shadows of the darkened kitchen.

“
How d’ya know who I am?” His voice held a peculiar note, more than simple curiosity.