Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series) (10 page)

Moving soundlessly, Micah followed her slow ascent up the mountain, staying carefully hidden behind dense foliage a few yards behind. He studied her with intense curiosity. It was at once obvious that she was not very tall; her legs, the same strange bluish shade as her face and arms, mud-spattered up the entire length, barely hung halfway down the withers of the fully grown mare. The well-worn moccasins on her feet were tiny, no bigger in size than any child would wear; these looked to be caked with dried... blood?
Must be mud
.
Jesus, what has she been doing? And where the hell did she come from?
His eyes automatically sought the small hands holding the reins in her lap, knowing before he saw them that they would be child-sized as well. She was young, he knew. Her mother had said she was only a couple years younger than he and his twin, that this
Ailill
had left for the Scottish Highlands when she was four and had been there since, "furthering her education". Watching her lead the mare toward a runoff stream that drained into a small pond at the edge of the tree line, almost too close to the ranch for his own comfort, Micah was struck with a sense of disbelief. Disregarding her small stature, which wouldn’t be unexpected in any case, her own mother was nearly as tiny, Micah could see no trace of childish roundness in the sculpted form of her full, womanly body. No trace of any sign at all to say that the exquisite beauty was merely seventeen years old. And she was beautiful; even with the filth that covered her from head to toe, the questionable rust-colored substance spattered across her upper body, her filthy blouse, Micah could see a natural beauty in the form of her, a sort of grace in the small movements, the subtle shifting of her arms and legs so high up on the mare's back, quite at odds with his initial impression.
Ragamuffin, indeed
, he thought wryly. 

Dismounting with a suddenness that made him jump and duck behind a bush in surprise, the girl/woman tugged gently at the reins, nickered softly, urging the horse to follow her over to the cool, flowing water at the edge of a small glade already scented by the roses that grew wild about the place. Peering out through a break in the leaves, Micah watched as she balanced nimbly on one foot, then the other, removing the short leather moccasins. Even her tiny feet were that weird blue color, as if she were lacking enough oxygen. Her slim ankles were ringed with anklets that matched  wide bracelets he had noticed earlier on her dainty wrists; though covered with mud, they sparkled just enough to draw the eye. Stepping silently onto the wet grass growing up wild along the bank, face lifted skyward, eyes closed, she raised her arms straight out, level with her shoulders, and began to turn slowly, stopping at each point of the compass; her lips moved soundlessly in the still morning air. He had seen her father and mother do something similar during the weeks he and Jacob had lived at Hidden Jewel when they first arrived in the Smoky Mountains, though he'd been too shy to ask exactly what they were doing. It was none of his business, after all.

Moving with graceful ease, the girl took the few steps to the stream and stepped in, eyes trained downward, watching for sharp stones. Despite a decided nip in the air, she was dressed in a sleeveless brown top that came to just below her breasts; the vee shaped neckline ended with a criss-crossed lacing down the cropped bodice that moulded the shirt to the buxom globes, tied just tight enough to expose the lighter skin of her cleavage when she bent down to drink from cupped hands. She wore a short kilted skirt, the muted colors of a hunting tartan blending in with her surroundings so well that it almost seemed to Micah as if she might disappear completely into the dense forest of Wilderdeep if he so much as blinked. Hiking the skirt up high on muscular thighs, a rather unnecessary precaution, she waded into the knee deep water, churning up dirt and old leaves with her toes as she walked, spraying sparkling water droplets up into the air with the carefree motion as she moved toward the drop off that led into the pond.

He watched her in utter fascination, wondering why she had stopped there when she was already so close to home and plenty of heated water; his unspoken question was answered a moment later when she dove, clothes and all, into the cool depths of Rosewater. Emerging almost at once, muddy water streaming down her back and arms, her face, from the long, long lengths of her hair, she sat down on a flat rock near the bank and began to wash the grime from her face and arms with a wet handkerchief and a bar of soap he'd not noticed before. Her eyes were closed, the motions of her hands causing a thick, foamy lather as she scrubbed the dirt from her head, down her body; even her clothing revealed their natural color after she dove again, and once more, staying under long enough to fully rinse herself the third time. Micah couldn't take his eyes off the water, stared at the blue-tinted scum floating on the surface of a pond he and Jacob swam in almost daily. It seemed a long time before she climbed back out, wringing out the thick ropes of hair with quick motions.

A redhead
... he sighed inwardly at the unusual sight. Aside from Annie Mackintosh, there were few true redheads hereabouts; he found the idea quite stimulating, the proof of whom she was burning brightly with the tardy sunlight. Brushing damp locks back from her face with her fingertips, the curls shimmered like wild flames as she moved, drawing Micah’s eye to small gold and silver hoops in her tiny earlobes that matched a somewhat larger one pierced through her navel; a thin chain around her neck disappeared enticingly beneath the bodice of her blouse; no longer mud brown, it had cleaned up nicely to a pale, creamy beige. He could see through the thin, wet fabric, noted that the water was obviously chilly, and caught a glimpse of lighter bare skin beneath the edge of her skirt when she bent to look around. An uncomfortable rising under his own hunting kilt brought a hot flush to his cheeks. She paused briefly, turned away to gaze through the trees, toward the ranch in the distance. He wondered briefly if she sensed him there; it did not escape his notice that the young woman had bathed fully clothed, though those clothes had been as dirty as the rest of her. Or perhaps she was just looking for her elderly companion?

Taking advantage of the opportunity while her attention was focused elsewhere, Micah crept closer, knelt down behind a thick stand of bushes deeply shaded by the trees overhead, suddenly glad that he was dressed in colors that blended easily into the woodsy surroundings. From this new vantage point he could look out and see her clearly, directly before his eyes; closing them briefly, he took a deep calming breath to still the pounding of his heart. When he looked again, he thought he would surely die.

The sun burned through the dying mist, lit on her head as she stood, turned in his direction, setting the thigh length ringlets of bright copper and dark cinnamon ablaze, sparking off the sun lightened streaks throughout, as lovely as warm honey, like a crown of earth’s most precious jewels. Her heart shaped face was smooth, unblemished, cheeks rosy beneath tanned skin. Eyebrows the same shade as her hair arched delicately over wide blue eyes that sparkled like star sapphires in the watery sun, framed with long lashes, dark and thick as painter's brushes. Her nose was a small and delicately chiseled blade; a tiny diamond labret glittered in the right nostril, adding an exciting, exotic air to the overall effect of her features. Lips moist and full, a deep cherry red, invited kisses by the mere existence of them. Micah barely stopped himself from going to her, walking right up to the little beauty to see if her mouth was really as sweet and welcoming as it looked; with effort, he forced his gaze away. The smooth skin of her bare arms was deeply tanned, the soft golden bronze of one who spent much time out of doors, both narrow wrists encircled by the wide bracelets of interlaced silver and gold that added a marked contrast where they shimmered against the sun baked skin; hard, unbelievably well-developed muscles rippled immodestly beneath every inch of exposed flesh when she moved, blatant proof of much more than mere inner strength, making the young man stare, awed by the sight.

Turning to cluck at the mare, Ailill began rummaging through one of the saddlebags, scanning the surrounding tree line with narrowed eyes; her gaze settled momentarily on the dense vegetation that Micah was using as a cover and he froze, not daring to move a muscle for fear of her discovering him. Blinking solemnly, she set her jaw hard and pulled the lacings of the shirt free, letting it fall with a wet
smack
to the ground at her feet, followed instantly by her kilt. At the suddenness of her beautifully moulded body laid bare before his eyes, an inaudible gasp escaped through his tightly clenched teeth. Clutching himself with both hands to still the tremor that suddenly rolled through him, his body responded to the touch instantly; fire gathered in his loins and, with a sudden involuntary jerk of the hips, viscous fluid spurted to the ground between his knees, leaving him dazed, trembling with bewilderment and inexplicable shame.

Blood pounded through his ears with deafening force as he opened his eyes to find that the girl was once again clad in fresh, clean garments; so fast had she changed that he wondered if he’d imagined the entire thing, but no... his imagination had never been
that
colorful. Staring at the exact spot where Micah was hidden, Ailill tightened the lacings of an emerald green shirt, the same revealing cut and style as the one she had so nonchalantly removed a moment before; the clean kilt cinched low on her hips was the brightly colored tartan of the Mackintosh clan. Her eyes glittered with an odd mixture of beguiling sadness and knowing innocence, underlaid, much to his surprise, with curious expectation. That look was too familiar.
It  her!
he thought, staring.
My dream girl
.

And what a complete changeover. Before, he had thought, had had a very real impression, in fact, that she looked as if she'd recently been in battle. The blue tint to her skin reminiscent of the ancient Highlanders, bodies painted with woad, screaming like
Ban-Sithiche
in the Gaelic as they charged all-out across barren moorland. All too easily he imagined her amongst them, sword drawn, a fierceness in her strange, iridescent blue eyes. She certainly looked strong enough. The image his colorful mind had dredged up had been so stunningly real... and now... Oh! now she looked as if she should be swathed in velvet robes and silken gowns, a crown of silver and gold set upon that fiery head.
Such beautiful perfection!

He stared into her lovely, expressive eyes, fought the sudden compulsion to show himself when she seemed to stare back as if he were in full view.

She knew he was there, oh yes; had known the entire time. He thrummed with a vibrancy of life that matched her own; she had sensed the quicker rush of his life force within the slowly aging forest the moment her mare had turned onto the path leading up the south-face of the mountain, had been aware as he followed with the silent stealth of an accomplished hunter, watched her with the intense curiosity of a stranger who believes himself cloaked into invisibility by shadows. Without doubt, she knew this was one of the two she had come for; a stranger in this age of ruin and renewal; a ghost of her past. A true and perfect match for herself, one of three. She sighed softly, willed herself not to acknowledge his unwanted presence.

The hidden stranger’s immediate, almost volatile, reaction to her nudity overwhelmed her. She felt his response deeply, the intensity of his desire struck her with a force that made the blood sing in her ears, her head swim with vertigo; when his release came on an aching need washed over her, tingling in her breasts, her womb, leaving an unaccustomed slickness in its wake as the feelings he evoked slowly dissipated. Fighting off an urgent desire to run across the stream and confront him, this lad who had caused such strong feelings to resurface after long months of carefully burying anything resembling need, Ailill quickly covered her nudity and stared hard across the water, willing the stranger to show himself, to acknowledge her presence with an introduction; with an exchange of names, a wave, a nod, anything. So that she would not have to. Instead he remained hidden from her imploring eyes, stubbornly unmoving in his discomfiture. Even when James raced into the clearing, impatient to be reunited with his daughter at long last, he stayed carefully out of sight. Heading out of the wood beside her father with a noticeable reluctance, she glanced back frequently for a glimpse of the visitor until the tree line curved away, taking her, as well as the possibility of seeing him, out of sight.

When she was gone Micah stood up, legs trembling from crouching so long, his limbs weak with the ferocity of his sudden release- it had been a shock, as if his own mind and body had been controlled by some unseen force. Casting one last look of longing at the spot where the fiery beauty had stood, exquisitely nude, he shuddered and quickly made his way to the village below, impatient to search out his twin and share what he had seen. His desire to meet the girl was great; strong enough to overcome the initial embarrassment he felt over spying on her. As his mind replayed the scene over and over his face burned with shame. He felt that he had violated her somehow, that his release had unlocked a door into the realm of her innocence; he vowed to fix it, either by latching it again, somehow, or by being the one to open it wide. His incensed mind knew that she, the mysterious and very beautiful Ailill Mackintosh, was the reason he had saved himself, as surely as she had known he was there all along.  Deeply smitten on first sight, he went home to fetch his twin back up the mountain with him, knowing that Jacob, a shameless wanton, could never turn down the meeting of a beautiful girl.