Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series) (40 page)

A stack of clothes, folded neatly into the pillowcase, was the next thing in the bag. Picking up a square of cloth on top, Micah recognized it as the blouse Ailill had been wearing the first time he saw her, a tiny beige linen top with no sleeves, the narrow bands of material over the shoulders no more than an inch wide. The laces up the front had accentuated the firm, round fullness of her sizable breasts, the length came only to the paler skin just below, showing off the rock-hard muscles of her stomach and abdomen to their fullest advantage. In the picture in his mind, Micah could see her clearly, dripping wet from the hasty bath in the stream, the plum color of her nipples showing clearly through the wet fabric just before it fell to her feet. A newly familiar stirring in his loins brought his attention back to the present and he opened his eyes, the shirt clutched against his chest suddenly forgotten as he looked into Jacob's eyes across the fire, alight with knowing and hidden laughter. Flushed with embarrassment, he quickly refolded the fabric and shoved it haphazardly back into the bag, hiding his face by burying it in the half-empty pack. The other two pillowcases held his and Jacob's clothes. Looking over at her sleeping form, he was suddenly glad that Jacob had thought of it.

Ailill was the cleanest person either of them had ever known; almost too clean. Both had noticed early on her penchant for bathing at any time of the day, which was odd, though not terribly so during the heat of summer. The thing that had struck them most was the way her skin glowed pinkly after she showered at night, before going to bed. It looked as if she were trying to burn the day's dirt from her body with scalding water. Jacob had asked her about it, the third time they'd stayed the night, as she climbed between the two men in the darkness of the porch where they slept, her flesh still hot as high noon in West Texas. She had snapped at him, a look of pain in her moonlit eyes so deep that Jacob had instantly apologized. That was the first night that Ailill had refused either man's soothing words, tentative touch; brushing their tender caresses away with a growl of irritation, she had rolled over onto her stomach and dropped instantly into troubled dreams. Blessed with the ability to sleep through anything, Jacob had not heard her crying in her sleep hours later. Micah had. He had done his best to comfort her and she had responded in a heated rush, over before it had even begun, slipping back into the darkness of her dreams before he had even moved into place, between the clutch of her thighs. One long, frantic kiss had sent her back into dreams and he had wondered  if he was destined to be a horrible lover; it seemed he had a knack for boring her to sleep before he could finish the deed.

A cup of steaming liquid, smelling strongly of the tang of medicinal herbs, moved slowly back and forth under his nose, drawing Micah's gaze up. He had been staring at Ailill as if in a trance and Jacob hovered nervously nearby, his own attention drawn down to where Ailill lay whispering in her sleep in that ghostly language he could not understand.

Taking the cup, Micah tried to smile reassuringly into the face of his twin, understanding the anxiety so clearly written in Jacob's deep blue eyes. He had been struck with a similar feeling the first time he had noticed her ghost-speak, as he had begun to think of the weird whispers; but Ailill did not ever sleep in daylight and hearing her this time sent a chill up his spine, as well. The sun had dimmed behind thick clouds, the bruises on her cheeks looked dark in the shadows of the wood, her skin the color of ash. Even her fiery, vibrant hair looked darker than normal against the pallid tone of her flesh. Jacob's arm shot out suddenly, shaking her with quick, jerky movements, an odd strangled sound in the back of his throat, a terror in his eyes that Micah had never seen before.

"Wake up! Ailill, wake up!" There was an anguished pitch to the tone of Jacob's voice and Micah saw that there were tears in his eyes. Jacob was absolutely terrified.

Even before her eyes opened, Ailill rolled backwards off the bed, springing to her feet in one fluid motion. Crouched down, low to the ground, a foot-long dirk clutched menacingly in her fist, her head swiveled slowly around in an arc, eyes glinting, dark and fierce, seeking the danger that had yanked her so abruptly from her dream. Her gaze lit on the two raven heads, flickered away and then back, coming to rest intently on Jacob's pale, stricken face.

"Why do you weep, Jacob?"

Her voice was low, rough with sleep. It took a moment for the words to register in Jacob's brain. Her question had been spoken in Gaelic.

"I was frightened," Jacob answered in the same language, wiping a muscular forearm across his wet face in embarrassment. Ailill studied him for a few beats before her defensive posture relaxed.

"Aye. That is obvious," she said softly, slipping back into her usual tongue with ease. Brows raised in curiosity, she asked, "of me?"

"For you," Jacob mumbled. His gaze swept over her body, seeing the pink flush that rose slowly from her bare toes to the top of her head. With a glance at Micah, Jacob's head dropped forward, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion and defeat.

Reaching forward, Ailill slipped the dagger back under the folds of the bison hide, where it had been since she had placed her bed there the day before.  Meeting Micah's uneasy gaze with a tired smile, she stood, watching Jacob with wary silence; he looked as if he was angry with her. It should be the other way around, she knew, but her kind were not the type to stay angry for long.
Such understanding shall certainly be the death o' me
, she thought ruefully.

Leaving the two men behind, she walked barefoot behind a screen of bushes to relieve herself, looking back unobtrusively once she was out of sight. Micah moved forward, laying a large hand on Jacob's shoulder, a look of deep concern etched across his face as he pulled the man into a surprisingly intimate embrace. Her heart gave a lurch when she realized that Jacob- tall, lean, unbelievably strong-with the ability to bring her to her knees in a bout of fury or make her melt against him in the face of his own blinding need- her own beautiful Jacob- was crying, and that his twin was comforting the man in her place. The sight of it made her feel distinctly uncomfortable, the closeness of the men more than obvious with the addition of Jacob's unexplained fear for her. Uneasily, Ailill finished attending to her personal needs, returning quietly to find that the two had moved some distance apart, silent discord plastering a frown across the dark brows of both as they glared at one another. Neither seemed aware of her return. 

Micah's head was throbbing atrociously with the pounding of his heart; his face flushed, then blanched, breaking out in a sudden sheen of sweat. He turned away from the sight of his painfully opportunistic twin, the foul taste of bile rising in the back of his throat, burning his sinus cavity as his mouth filled with bitter saliva; standing suddenly, swaying with vertigo, he bent forward behind the nearest tree, his knees buckling under him as he lost his breakfast with one violent heave. Trembling, he held his head in his hands and moaned hoarsely, his long body folded in on itself.

"Are you alright?" Ailill's voice was soft, slow with not being fully awake, and both men turned in surprise to find her sitting in a tiny ball near the fire, her arms wrapped tight about her knees. She had an odd sense that something was terribly amiss between the two; something that had made the blood pump too quickly through Micah's wounded skull, making him sick. Something that made Jacob's eyes glint coldly as they lit on her face. She frowned.

Nodding slowly, Micah turned away to hide his embarrassment, spitting out the sour tasting saliva that filled his mouth before pulling damp leaves over the mess he had made.

Jacob stared at Ailill, studying her with an intensity that made the blood rise in her cheeks. In her usual manner, Ailill boldly met his eyes, stared back at him with a highly censorious expression, a stubborn set to her small, slightly pointed jaw. Her hands itched to sooth Micah's wounds; she clenched her fists hard to keep from going to him but the train of her thoughts was soon clear on her face. Jacob glowered.

"Don't y'all think twenty-two stitches to the back of the head is a good enough reason to keep your goddamned hands off my brother?" Jacob snarled viciously, standing up and taking the few long strides across the clearing to where Ailill was seated. He grabbed her by the hair, yanked her brusquely up from the ground with a violence that shocked her, bringing a yelp of pain to her lips, stinging tears to her eyes. "Lookit 'im, you dumb fuckin' bitch!" he snarled, twisting her head around. Micah, still crouched on the ground, gaped at his twin in utter shock. "He nearly died last night, a fact of which I don't care for as I would die, too, and I come back here to find you sound asleep instead of takin' care of him like you're supposed to! Git over there and clean 'im up or I'm gonna whip the skin off your tight little ass and show you the real meanin' of havin' two men in your bed!"

Lifting one long leg, Jacob kneed her in the small of the back, sending her sprawling face first into the dirt. In disbelief at his use of violence, Ailill rolled onto her back and stared up at Jacob with wide eyes, shocked into silence by the black fury so clear in his own eyes as he loomed over her. When she didn't move, he pulled back a leather-clad foot and gave her a swift kick in the stomach, making her double up in agony, tears streaming from her eyes as she fought for breath.

"
Get up! I fuckin' told ya to get over there!
" he roared, rearing back to kick her again. His eyes widened in shock when his foot touched on nothing but thin air. The woman had vanished from his sight.

Micah's hard, muscular shoulder rammed into Jacob's chest with enough force to knock him flat on his back; instantly pinned beneath the weight of his twin, Jacob did not struggle when Micah cuffed him above the ear with a fist as hard as stone.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Micah's rasping voice demanded, eyes, full of fury, glaring hatefully down into Jacob's face. "Nearly raping her last night ain't enough, now you gotta beat on her, too?" A drop of sweat rolled down the knife-sharp edge of Micah's nose, landed on Jacob's flushed cheek. "You've become just like
him
, like Kiah; fuckin' brutalizer! None of this is her fault! None! If you ever touch her again, if you lay so much as a finger on her, I swear I'll fuckin' kill you, Brother or not!" He glared into his twin's deep blue eyes with open hostility, accusation. "Why?"

It was one word, spoken in a barely audible whisper, the last of his voice used up in the hateful words he had rasped into his brother's furious face; the face of a stranger behind the familiar mask of Jacob. One word was enough.

"Jealous." Jacob's voice was low, husky with feeling, his brows drawn down in a deep vee. "There's something between you; a closeness that I noticed the first day." He grimaced, trying to draw breath. "I didn't think much of it at first, but lately it's...watching you with her...it's gettin' to me. I can't help myself. There's a connection between you and it don't include me. It's driving me fucking crazy!”"

"It would include you if you weren't mean to her all the time; if you'd prove yourself!" Micah answered angrily, the words no more than a pinprick in Jacob's mind. He leaned hard into his twin, making Jacob wince as his breath was slowly squeezed from his chest. His eyes glinted in the sun, as blue as a midnight sky. "I don't get this mean streak in you lately. I can't remember you ever hittin' a girl before. And she
loves
! She gives everything that she can to both of us! She saved your wretched life, Jacob, and this is how you repay her?" There was a deep sadness in his eyes when Jacob met them.

"She's taking you from me," Jacob whispered, so softly that Micah could hardly hear him.

"She's keeping us together," Micah argued soundlessly, his lips forming the words carefully so that Jacob could understand without being overheard. "She was raised to be with both of us. She
wants
to be with both of us!"

A stubbornness shown darkly in Jacob's eyes, a willfulness that Micah had not seen for quite a long time. "I want you both for myself," he growled, trying to ease out of his twin's grasp. "I don't wanna share. Not with you, not with anybody. I want
all
of her." He looked like a wayward little boy.

"Too damn bad. I ain't givin' her up. Y'all ain't gettin' your way, Jacob, and I mean it this time. I want her too much; I love her, and all you are is cruel to her. Cruel as Kiah was to us."

Jacob lay still, staring past his twin with wide, disbelieving eyes as he suddenly remembered Ailill's reaction to his barbaric treatment. "Get off me, man." He struggled briefly, managing to push his twin's weight up, though Micah did not move. "Get
off
!" Micah scrambled quickly away, head pounding with a rush of blood when his twin reached down and gave his testicles an eye-popping squeeze. Jacob jumped swiftly to his feet, eyes sweeping the area within and around the clearing. "Where is she?" he demanded, glaring in accusation at his twin.