The Charm Stone (15 page)

That feeling had dimmed.

“I know this hasna gone as it should,” Bagan began.

“An understatement if ever there was one.”

Bagan paused, then cleared his throat, drawing Connal's attention. “It's simply that…well, in all my time as guardian to the stone, since your ancestors took on its blessing, naught like this has e'er happened. With your father, and those that came before, each embraced what the stone promised as did those betrothed to them. More importantly, they embraced the promise in each other. It was from that happiness what came joy and prosperity. I know not what to do, or what rules apply. I only wonder if perhaps—”

“It's obvious they are testing my faith still,” Connal stated flatly. “I know they were angered by my brothers’ refusal to believe. The fates have made me wait long, tested me well. But I have proven—”

“Dinna ye remember what the gods said to ye, in that moment ye lay there, bloodied and dyin’, beg-gin’ a second chance to secure yer clan's future?”

The last thing Connal wanted to be reminded of was that day, and those that followed directly after it. Years of days, centuries of days, spent helplessly watching the ragged remnants that were his clansmen, though there were precious few men left among them. It was mostly the aged, the women, and the children left by the time battle claimed him and took the life of their last laird. And he watched as others came to claim the few left standing. Forced to observe as what had been his to protect was taken, destroyed, ravaged. But rather than dim, his faith had been forged even stronger in that time. It was all he had to cling to. His only hope, and theirs.

“I told them I'd prove to them my faith in the stone, as my brothers had not. My soul was the only thing I had left to bargain away.”

Bagan moved closer, and quietly said, “And do ye
recall what they said to ye? They said that you'd naught to prove to them. That the only one you had to prove anythin’ to was yerself.”

Connal swung around, fists clenched. “And haven't I done just that? Proven to the gods, to Fate, and to myself that my faith in the promise of the stone is strong enough to outlast any test? And they're no’ done testin’ me, I ken that, I do. It is why the stone isna working its magic as yet.” His thoughts went unbidden to the previous night. Magic, aye that she'd been. “But it's begun. And I'll do whate'er it takes to see that this land doesna fall to its final ruin, that Glenmuir is given the chance once again to prosper, so that future MacNeils will know the pride of this isle.”

“Maybe Destiny willna deliver it to ye. Maybe she has some other idea in mind. The gods themselves never promised anything, they only said—”

“They said they'd grant me eternity to await the promise of the stone. And it is here, is it no’?”

“And what if that promise is no’ to be the bairn ye seek? They never promised anything other than time.”

“What else can it be? I promised my soul in return for one to lead on in my place.” He leveled his gaze at the guardian. “So they continue to test me, I accept the challenge. You yourself said no one had thwarted the stone's promise before.”

“But you didna thwart—”

“My brothers did.” He waved a hand, tired of this dialogue. It was one he'd already had with himself a hundred times over, a thousand even. “And I am willing to pay for their sins. Have been paying. Surely that is enough, or they wouldna have granted me the time. And Fate surely wouldna hae brought the stone home to me, in the hands of a woman, if no’ to allow Destiny to fulfill her promise of hope.”

The imp fell silent and Connal finally turned his back on him, more weary than he could ever remember being. He'd spent the last hours thinking like a man. It was time he thought like the laird he was. “Can ye find this medicine of hers?”

He turned just in time to catch the immediate, instinctive resistance in the dwarf's eyes.

Connal sighed in disgust. “Don't tell me she's captured yer heart in such a short time. Ye may be her guardian, but yer loyalty is still to the clan first.” He held Bagan's gaze directly. “I want the medicine in my hands tomorrow.”

“Perhaps she's expecting ye to visit her tonight. Ye could retrieve it yourself.”

Connal shot him a glare.

Bagan sighed, clearly unhappy. “Fine, fine. I'll do wha’ I must.”

Connal turned for the tunnel, wanting to burn off this sudden excess of energy. He'd like nothing better than to burn it off inside that croft… inside of Josie. But he didn't need to cloud his mind with more thoughts of her sweet taste. Until he removed this… barrier between them, there was no point in it anyway.

His renewed focus did little to ease his frustration. Or his desire for her. She was a weakness that he could ill afford right now. After all this time, neither could he afford any mistakes.

“Will ye no’ be seein’ her tonight then,” Bagan called out after him. “Is there a message I can deliver for ye?”

Connal paused, then turned and said, “No man-made barrier will keep me from fulfilling my destiny. Our destiny.” He started to go, then stopped once again. “Find it, Bagan.”

It was simple enough to leave the tower and Bagan behind him. However, Josie didn't leave his thoughts
so easily. The sun set and the night turned into the longest one he'd spent since his death. He haunted the tower, stalked the beach, and fought against the need to go to her, until he'd finally stormed back to his rooms. But there he was confronted with the lingering essence of her presence. Her scent clung to his bedclothes, clouded his mind. And there was no solace to be found in the chair fronting the fire. In fact, he didn't think he would ever be able to fall asleep in front of the fire again.

The sun broke the horizon right about the same time as Connal's weakness broke him. However, it was Bagan who met him at the door to the cottage.

“Where is she?”

Bagan swallowed hard, but said nothing.

“You did find them, didn't you?”

He fluttered one stubby-fingered hand in a vague motion. “Actually—”

“Och, spare me. I'll do it myself.” He pushed past the little guardian and entered the croft. He knew immediately that she wasn't there. She hadn't been on the beach, either. He spun back to Bagan. “Where is she?”

“In-in town.”

Connal worked to reign in his temper. “Fine, that will give us time to find those blasted pills and get rid of them.” He climbed the stairs to the loft.

“She's taken her things with her,” Bagan called out.

“I can see that.” Swearing, Connal popped out, then back in below. “Why are you here, then? Why are you not with her? It's a wonder you didn't lose the damn stone instead of drowning with it!”

Bagan ignored the slight and gave him his most winning smile. “She will be back, my laird.”

Connal growled and stalked to the door. Her car was not in the drive. He hadn't even noticed, his
thoughts being so single-mindedly on finding her. “ Tis a small island, but I am no’ comforted at the thought of her packing up and taking up residence a farther distance from the tower. It was your responsibility to make certain she-What?” he demanded when Bagan's gaze suddenly wavered.

“She was no’ relocating to new lodgings. She was plannin’ to catch the ferry.”

For a split second Connal felt as if he'd been run through yet again with a mighty sword. Gone? It was simply beyond reasoning. She was destined to be his. Destined to be the one to bring hope back to Glen-muir in the form of his son. The next MacNeil.

She couldn't simply leave. He wouldn't allow it.

“There willna be a ferry after such a storm,” Bagan offered quickly when Connal rounded on him again. “She'll be forced to return.”

“Ye never should have let her go in the first place.”

Bagan made a helpless gesture with his hands. “She's no’ a woman ye tell to do a certain thing. In fact, I'd say that would be the swiftest way to ensure that she does the opposite.”

“Then use her woman's logic against her.” Connal waved off his reply. He hadn't factored in that she'd try to leave him. Barrier or no, he realized now he should have kept her in his bed, wedded her needs to his, if not her heart. And the woman had a voracious need… He shook off the memories and turned on Bagan. “Pop off to town and determine when this ferry departs.”

“But—”

“If I'm to keep her from leaving, I must be able to cut off her route of escape. I'm a warrior, Bagan. I'm no’ willing to allow my opponent to retreat from the battle.”

“If I may be so bold as to suggest—”

Connal glared at him, but as usual, the dwarf seemed impervious.

“She is no’ supposed to be yer opponent, m'laird, but yer partner. You plan to have her raise yer child, do ye no’? Perhaps it would be wiser to turn her attentions toward championing you instead of runnin’ away from you.”

“I do not need you of all people to be telling me how to take control of this situation.”

“I've explained that I've no’ encountered these difficulties before, but I've no’ done anything to prevent the charm stone from workin’ its magic. In fact, if it wasn't for me, ye'd have never had cause to rescue—” He stopped suddenly, coughed. “Yer right, I should pop on over to town.”

Connal narrowed his gaze at Bagan, but was not in the mood to discuss whatever shenanigans he'd been up to. Right now he was concerned with one thing only: finding Josie Griffin and getting her back where she belonged.

In his bed.

Josie sat in her car, arms folded, focusing intently on the horizon. But no matter how hard she stared at the whitecaps, not even a shadow of a boat emerged in the distance.

“Dammit.” She was tense, hungry and half expected either Bagan or Connal to pop into her car at any second. The waiting and wondering alone were close to unnerving her. Now she was faced with accepting the fact that the storm had thrown off the ferry schedule. Which meant going back to Gregor's place. And dealing with Bagan.

And facing Connal.

God knows she didn't need to spend any more
time thinking about him, but a fat lot of good that realization was doing her. She could think of little else except how his hands had felt skimming over her… and the things he could do with that mouth of his… No, she'd been strong enough not to go running back for seconds, to end the whole little fairy tale and head back to reality. Hopeful that sanity would return shortly thereafter.

She sighed, backed the car down the ramp, and turned to town. No, she wasn't ready to face Connal again. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And Bagan… she didn't think she could take any more of his assistance. This morning he'd thought to prepare her some breakfast and almost succeeded in burning Gregor's croft to the ground after all.

She'd told him she was going out to check the surf, when in fact she'd been strapping her board and gear onto the car. She'd come back in to find him sorting through the bag she'd left packed on Gregor's bed, waiting for the moment she could sneak it past him.

It had taken only five seconds for her to realize he'd been looking for her pills. So much for their tentative accord. When she found out Connal had set him to the task, they'd ended up in a shouting match which culminated in her storming out, daring him to try to stop her. Fortunately for both of them, she thought, still stung by the whole exchange, he'd let her go. She only hoped Connal found him before he'd had a chance to work his magic on the croft.

“Serve the little imp right to have to explain the torch marks on the kitchen walls.” She pulled up in front of Maeve and Roddy's place, but made no move to leave her car. Maybe she could beg a bed from them for a night, she thought, and brightened a bit. Surely the ferry would be able to cross by tomorrow.

Dougal pulled up on his bike just then, tipping his hat to her as she climbed out of the car. “Something happen out at Gregor's place?” He nodded to the car, obviously packed with her belongings.

For a split second she worried that someone had seen the fire the other night and reported it. How would she explain the lack of damage? “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, sometimes Gregor claims he sees—” He broke off, apparently thinking better of whatever he'd been about to say. “Never mind, lass. Usually in his cups he is when he tells such stories. Tis nothing. Yer okay then?”

“Everything's fine,” Josie said, but before she could pursue Gregor's drunken claims, Dougal's expression fell.

“So you were thinking to leave us then, with no surf lessons before you go.”

Josie had the grace to blush. It wasn't that she'd intended to leave without saying her good-byes, she'd just been mad and in a hurry to leave before Bagan or Connal could stop her.

Plus, she supposed she hadn't really thought they'd go through with it, that it was just another one of their larks. But Dougal's hangdog expression told her they'd actually been counting on it. “You didn't really go and order gear, did you?”

He shrugged. “Roddy has been looking on eBay. He's a cagey sort though, won't bid on something unless he's checked out the references and such. He's been trying to work a shipping deal to the U.K. Monstrous rip-off for sure.” He took his glasses off and wiped them on his sleeve, not looking at her. “Suppose I should go tell him not to bid on anythin’.”