Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series) (34 page)

Deliberately, Ailill pushed thoughts of the man aside, easing her numbing backside against the softness of her bedding, knowing that she would not be able to sleep if she tried. Instead, she drew on thoughts of animals at random in an attempt to put a stop to the thoughts of anything, or anyone, at all. Wild animals were a natural part of life these days. Without enough people to hunt them, the beasts were once again beginning to roam plains and forests alike in vast numbers, the animal population growing exponentially in the last thirty-odd years, outstripping humans by the thousands.

Wolfsong rang out in the distance, a counterpoint to the rhythm in her body; her fingers clamped hard across the frets, stilling the vibration of the strings so that she could listen to the beautiful music of the beasts echoing down the canyon that ran for miles through the center of the mountain range.

They stood on the rocky outcrops of the mount opposite, eyes glittering golden in the moonlight, coats shimmering silver, as if they were ghost-wolves. Ailill could see them clearly from her vantage point, watching her with intelligent curiosity in their gleaming eyes. Her head tipped back, exposing the pale column of her throat, her hands raised, palms up as if in surrender even as she stared boldly into the eyes of the handsome leader of the pack. A few yips led up to a full rolling howl in answer to her gaze and she called back with a throaty song of her own. As suddenly as they had appeared, the pack turned as one, fading back into the densely packed pines behind, out of sight.

Never one to chance the possible return of a wolf with less scrupulous curiosity, Ailill carefully laid the guitar back in the case at her feet, closing the lid with a soft thump, and lay down, stretching until her joints popped, sounding very like shots in the quiet of the forest.

The night air was cool under the thick cover of trees, chilled by the evaporation of water continually siphoned from the earth by the roots, sucking the mineral laden lifeblood up into thick trunks and sturdy branches. The coolness did not bother Ailill; her body was still, and would likely always be, accustomed to the often bitter cold climate of the Scottish Highlands. She was comfortably clad in old blue jeans and a tank-top that covered her slim waist; the sweater in her pack was unnecessary, but she had brought it at her mother's urging. It had been considerably warmer nearer to the house since her return. She wondered how Jacob and Micah fared; she was over being angry, though she had been furious to return home only to find her cousins already gone. Except Declan. Her giant cousin had frightened the living daylights out of her, hiding out in the darkness of her room as he had, his musical voice heralding a
wee message
that had forced the tears whether she liked it or no. His orders, he'd said, were to "take a verra guid look at our wee lass, to see if aught was amiss". Orders, aye. From the mouth of the first born of the dark princes, who had crossed o'er the barrier himself only to chicken out ere she appeared. Hiding the melancholy aura she knew had begun to swathe her in shadows, Ailill had reluctantly sent the green-eyed lad away, an angry message sent back with him that had momentarily stolen the light from his iridescent gaze.

Jacob and Micah did not return; after her outburst, both had gone down the mount, back to Kiah's cabin, their own true home, the one they deserved, at least in their eyes. She and James found them there later, sleeping on the porch, out of doors, away from the smell of Jacob's own blood dried upon the floorboards; her father insisted they come back, live at Hidden Jewel. To make things easier on everyone, they had politely declined the leader's generous offer. The look mirrored in the eyes of both when they refused had been truly awful; a hunted look that made Ailill's wame curdle with dread. In a compromise, they'd been persuaded to sleep at the old cabin in the wood. She shifted, restless with the knowledge, unable to get her mind to settle down as easily as her body. That had been two weeks ago.

“
And here I still set,” she muttered softly to herself, sighing in frustration. “On the mountain that only wishes it could be home... thinking thoughts I shouldn't about men I don't want to think at all about... aye, men suck!”

It was not the first time her thoughts wandered back to the two men as she sat alone in the dark, mere yards away from the entrance to the chambers she would most likely enter at dawn; it was imperative to wait. If she allowed her heart to lead her, Ailill knew, she would go one of two ways. Either through the doorway so close by, to prove her love to Tiernan, or she would take the long walk in the opposite direction, to the other side of Wilderdeep, and sleep in the arms of both raven twins, if only to spite the fiend who had managed to claim them for so long. The first choice was too much to contemplate; it filled her with turmoil. The other choice was one she had contemplated many times already tonight. She wanted to go to them, and yet she didn't. Her cheeks flushed suddenly at the thought of them, though not in embarrassment; more, it was a sign of something Micah had said,  a few weeks before, about controlling desires with a look, or a touch, or a word. The problem was that both men had somehow managed to learn such control over her, with nary a finger laid upon her person, and she was having a very hard time controlling those urges brought on by imagining the double pleasure they could so easily give her. She wanted them so badly it frightened her. She could not leave. Neither could she stay without losing her sanity.

The hours alone in the wood had already done her much good. She had used the time to reflect on everything that was expected of her in the weeks and months to come; and for the rest of her life. She blinked up at the moon, pushing  the solemn image that came unbidden behind her eyes back into the recesses of her mind, wishing she had someone to talk to, knowing that that someone was across a divide which seemed impassable just now because he had sent her away; and that the other someone was the other two-thirds of one perfect man, whom she had bidden to stay away until she had worked out all of the turmoil so deeply embedded within her psyche. Her cousins were an option; she could always open her heart to them without fear of recrimination, yet she was wary of bringing anyone else into this land; she still wondered what had caused them to make such a hasty exit, passing up the chance to at least look upon her. Annie was mum, as was her father, to the point that she'd finally fled, frustrated, to the darkness and silence of the woods.
All for the best
, she silently acknowledged, swallowing down the bitter taste of loneliness; a bitterness she'd not tasted in too many years, since she'd first given her very self up to the Druids- coming to them as a mere acolyte, and a small child. Then it had only lasted a month or two, and she'd gotten through it easily, at the time missing only one lad. Tiernan. Again. Sighing her frustration, a half-groan in the silence, Ailill squeezed her eyes shut, willed the images away with a force that left her head throbbing, the answer to her question a lonely
nay
. As neither Micah nor Jacob yet knew whom they were, it was hard enough with only herself; adding three gorgeous men to the equation, men who had avowed themselves for her own safety... she could only imagine how the twins might react. Jealousy was frowned upon within the Realm and both had proven a very green streak, indeed. Not to mention the anger within each, so strong; unresolved. They were proving to be worse off than even she'd expected. In a way, Ailill doubted they could ever understand. She certainly didn't. The Elders should have just left well enough alone, regarding those two.
Nay, lass. Yer not so selfish. MacDuff deserves to have his sons back
, she silently berated.   

Sitting up with a sigh, Ailill picked up the small aluminum pot warming on a flattened stone just inside the firepit she had set up when she first arrived at her campsite. She had carefully dug the hole and lined it with rocks in order to spit-roast an unwary rabbit she had come across on the way through the wood. It had been an easy kill with a simple bow and arrow. It had been delicious for her dinner, cooked over the licking flames. A mist of scented steam rose from the spout along the top of the battered old pot and she inhaled deeply of the aroma as she poured out the herbal tea into a mug.

"Come on, Ailill, pull yourself together," she muttered under her breath. "You can sleep alone in the wood for one bloody night. You've done it a many times before!"

Retaking her seat, she raised the cup to her lips and closed her eyes at the instant relief to her parched throat, leaning back against the tree to stare into the dancing flames, resigned to the prospect of a lonely, sleepless night shared with the ghosts of the past and the realities of the future.

"Whad'ya think she's doin' right now?"

"Talkin', most likely," Micah answered immediately, flashing a white grin over at Jacob. He had been thinking about Ailill all night, ever since she had announced her little camping trip "alone" and he'd been pondering the very same thing. Jacob looked at him blankly for a moment, letting his smoke-filled lungs clear with a slow exhalation. The aromatic cloud wafted toward his twin who, waving a hand, cleared the air in front of his face, a solemn expression in his dark eyes as he watched Jacob drift ever higher.

"Who would she be talkin' to in a boneyard, Micah?" Jacob asked, truly perplexed.

"Ghosts." His eyes took on a sadness which was lost on his twin. "She talks all night. In all the times we've stayed over you never noticed?"

"Uh-uh. Only when she was sleepin' off healin' me." Head swaying side to side, Jacob said, "to y'all? Or to herself?" His red-rimmed eyes squinted through the dim, smoky light. He was grinning, completely at ease where he sprawled, half-naked, on the other end of the overstuffed couch, waiting for Micah to answer.

"She talks to the people she sees in her dreams, Jacob. Has long conversations with 'em all night long."

"Who's she dreamin' about, 'sides y'all, Brother?" Coughing, Jacob wheezed, "Or maybe even me."

"I told ya. Ghosts." Sitting forward, elbows resting on his knees, Micah reached for the spliff Jacob held out to him between thumb and forefinger. "Don't laugh, man. I asked her about it, after the first time we stayed the night... she told me she dreams about our ancestors, and her own family. Dead and alive; talks to 'em in her dreams and they talk back to her. It's how she connects, she says; how she knows things." He looked around uneasily, suddenly feeling unsettled; wanting to go to her even though she told them both to stay away. Her cheeks had been flushed, eyes dark with feeling, though she commanded in a clear voice that neither follow her. It had been more than difficult to keep that particular promise, which was how the brothers came to be sitting in the cabin, their temporary new home, passing a joint back and forth, late into the night; though the chances of Kiah suddenly returning, searching them out this late at night, were slim, they'd been careful to keep hidden in amongst the forest of Wilderdeep until long after dark, just to be sure though neither would have admitted such a fear to Ailill; to anyone, except each other.

"I wonder if she talks to
him
, about us," Jacob said after awhile.

Shrugging his broad shoulders, Micah stared into the dancing flames inside the fireplace, unable to avoid thinking about that himself; unable to shake off a feeling that, despite her wish that they not join her, it would be better for them all if he did.

The sight of her had been a mild surprise. Neither man had ever seen Ailill so clothed before, yet she held the door aside, reluctantly granting them entry into her room dressed in long, well-worn bluejeans that showed off the curve of her hips nicely, a pair of knee-high buff colored moccasins, not yet laced, hugged the lines of her calves when she turned back toward the large, soft bed that took up most of the room. The bronze skin of her arms glistened in the suns last rays streaming through the unshaded windows, a light sheen of perspiration along the rippling limbs the only sign of her discomfort at being overdressed as she shoved a small pile of necessities into the bottom of a canvas pack with rough, jerky movements, as if she were still angry.

Apologies quickly taken care of, both stared at her in expectation.

"We'll still be staying down at the cabin," Micah stated, tentative, drawing her eyes up at last.

"Aye, I ken it. It was my idea, after all."

"Well, then you can stop packing. We won't be around to bother you, Abby." With a glance around, she picked up a small sheathed knife which she strapped to the top of her moccasin. "Didn't y'all hear me? We won't be here, or anywhere else to bother you." Micah said, his eyes boring into her backside.

"I won't be here either," she replied, looking up. Exchanging a glance with his twin, Micah glowered into her upturned face.

"So, you're gonna leave after all, is that it? It's been a couple weeks, ya know. You'd really rather leave us altogether?"