The Charm Stone (18 page)

Probably had to be pretty strong to lift sheep into a loft, she thought, but kept the observation to herself.

Once back in the croft, she said, “I need to shower, so just make yourselves—”

“We've been to Gregor's many a time,” Dougal said, waving her off. “We'll start the tea for you.”

Josie nodded her thanks and headed up to the loft, only to come to a dead stop when she saw her bed. And the man presently lying on it.

Her heart leaped to her throat… the rest of her body pooled with heat.

A slap of a cupboard door from below shook her from her momentary hot flash. “What are you doing here?” she whispered fiercely.

Connal smiled at her, though it wasn't a casual smile if the glittering light in his dark eyes was any indication. “I figured this was the one spot they wouldn't be accompanying you to. Only after that display of machismo on the beach, I did have some doubts.”

“Ha, ha, very funny. You can't stay here.”

“On the contrary, lass, I can stay wherever I will myself to stay.”

“Fine. I'll go.”

He merely stretched and made himself more comfortable. “Were you no’ going to change before makin’ yer escape?”

Had she really dreamed of going to bed with him again? Actually, they hadn't gone to bed. They'd gone to chair. Whatever. He looked pretty damn fine on a bed, too, as it turned out. But it couldn't happen again. He had all these far-fetched ideas about how she fit into the grand scheme of his life. She had to swallow the hysterical urge to laugh. Farfetched? His life? The former went without saying, after all, he was a centuries-old ghost. Which more or less negated the latter.

She rubbed her temples, her amusement fading. She only wished a similar death to her libido. “Listen, we can't do-that, again. Ever.”

He cocked one dark brow. “That?”

“You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. It won't happen again.”

He rolled to an entirely too graceful sitting position and swung his feet to the floor. He wore black fitted breeches today, which were nice-really nice. But she found herself thinking how much nicer he'd look just now in a kilt… with all that bare thigh exposed.

Stop it, Josie.
Sheesh, a person would think she
was desperate or something, the way she- He stood then and everything froze but her pulse, which went into immediate overdrive. She lifted a suddenly shaky hand. “I mean it, Connal. No more hanky-panky.”

He smiled and her knees wobbled a bit. “Hanky-panky? I'm no’ familiar with the term.”

She narrowed her gaze. “I imagine you can figure it out.”

He stepped closer. “Oh, I have quite a vivid imagination, Josie lass. In fact, I've spent an inordinate amount of time imagining how I'll have you again.”

“I-I have guests,” she stammered. “Right downstairs. This very minute. Making tea.” Dear Lord, but she wanted him again. She took a step backward, grasping the stairwell railing for balance. Sex for the sake of pleasure was one thing, when both people were consenting adults who understood the rules. Connal didn't understand anything but what he believed. She absolutely couldn't do this.

“I'm-I'm not staying on the island,” she blurted out. “I'm only here now because the storm threw the ferry schedule off. So there's no point in wooing me.” Wooing? Where had she come up with that? He wasn't wooing… he was seducing. And doing a damn fine job of it, too.

“I'm aware of your attempt to flee yer destiny. That you were thwarted by nothing less than such a dramatic display of Mother Nature should tell you something.”

“Oh, so now the storm is the Fates’ way of sending me a sign?”

He shrugged. “What else could it be?”

She shook her head. “I'm going downstairs. When I come back up here, I expect you to be gone. Understand?”

He moved unexpectedly fast. She was up against
him before she realized what was happening. Then his mouth was covering hers and nothing else registered. He invaded her mouth, took without asking, demanded without apology.

She was already swept in before she thought to deny him, if that would have been possible. He ended the kiss as abruptly as he'd begun it. Looking at him now, she didn't doubt he was the warrior he claimed to be. Her heart pounded, her throat was dry… and the bathing suit she wore beneath her neoprene was soaked… and not with seawater.

“That is what I understand, lass,” he said roughly. “Now, you'd best dispatch of your guests or they'll be treated to the screams I'll elicit from you when I make you come apart for me again.” He stepped closer. “And again.”

C
onnal stared in disbelief out of the loft window as Josie rode off on Gregor's dilapidated bicycle, following her two guests. The brief white shorts she now wore displayed the fine length of muscle in her thigh as she pedaled off. Apparently she'd left some clothing in her vehicle, not that it mattered if she had an entire wardrobe at her disposal. Clothing was not necessary to the plans he'd made for them, and she'd well understood that.

He had been so certain, beyond a wisp of a doubt, that she would comply. He'd had her exactly where he wanted her. Aching for the release only he could provide her. At least on Glenmuir he was the only one who could. He swore under his breath at the images that accompanied that thought, not liking the notion that she could have other lovers once he was gone.

He took the stairs to the lower level. He was doing that a lot more of late… expending energy as a mortal would. But he found he had a great deal more of it to expend. He'd have much rather divested himself of it in a far more pleasurable way, but-“Things didn't go as planned, I see.” Connal glared at Bagan, who was perched on the counter next to the kitchen sink. “Why is it you only decide to spend time in my presence when you wish
to annoy me?” He waved a hand. “Dinna answer that.”

“I believe I explained that commanding her to do something was only likely to have her do the exact opposite.”

“I dinna need yer counsel, Guardian. In fact, I had hoped your absence earlier was a sign that—”

Bagan waved a little pink wallet. “Done. Though I'll be tellin ye, I had no liking for the task. She should be a willing part o’ this.”

Surprised and pleased, Connal took the packet from him and examined the white-and-green pills inside. “She knows exactly where I intend this thing between us to lead.”

“Which is why she is presently pedaling for town?” Bagan slid off the counter. “Yer strategy is brilliant, I must say, m'laird.”

Connal lifted his eyes to the heavens but refrained from asking the gods why they'd saddled him with a three-foot tall conscience when his own was working perfectly well. “As ye said earlier, 'tis no’ like she can leave the island. If she gains some measure of confidence in flaunting her independence, that is all fine and well with me. I can be a patient man.”

A small noise, sounding suspiciously like a snort, erupted behind him, but when he turned on Bagan, the imp's face was full of angelic innocence.

Connal knew his expression was anything but at the moment. “I believe three centuries of waiting proves my point. But mark my words, Guardian, patience or no, I will have what I want. I sold my soul for it. I'll no’ be letting it simply walk away from me.”

Josie slipped off her sneakers, then let her feet dangle over the edge of the sheer cliff. The late-afternoon sun felt good on her shoulders and she
tipped her face to it as well. If only her life were as carefree as the breeze, she thought. She looked down at the shoreline. The northern tip of the island was little more than a tumble of rocks, with no beach and little vegetation. A hardy sprig of heather here and there was the only color amidst the otherwise dark stone. The waves pounding the rocks kicked up a spray that misted the air and cloaked this end of Glenmuir, making it feel remote, cut off, even more so than Gregor's little croft. Which suited her needs perfectly.

Not that she suspected Connal couldn't search her out, if he was so inclined, but at least she'd make him work for it. She sighed and lay back on the rock, framing her eyes as she looked up at the clouds scudding across the brilliant blue sky.
How did I end up in this mess?
she asked herself for at least the thousandth time since landing on the island.

She'd left Dougal and Clud at a hilly crosspath midisland and headed this way, leaving them to go on back to town while she explored. Glenmuir was truly stunning in its diversity, the change from the green, heather-dotted east end to the dramatic cliffs of the north captured her imagination and not a little of her heart. The connection she felt to this place would have been intriguing if it hadn't been all wrapped up in tales of Fate and Destiny.

She let the mist cool her sun-warmed skin, wishing she could stay in this little place out of time forever. But Gavin and Roddy were due at Gregor's later, and she figured on arriving right about the same time. That was if her butt lost some of its numbness by then. How did these people ride bikes on paths so rutted anyway? And their butts were a great deal more bony than hers, too.

She smiled, thinking of Dougal and Clud's excited chatter on their ride back. Both were even
more eager now to test their prowess on the waves. If she wasn't so terrified of them shattering every bone in their bodies the first time they took a spill, she'd actually be enjoying this. Of course, she thought with a smile, if their bony backsides could handle the skeleton-rattling rides to and fro on those bicycles, maybe they were in better shape for surfing than she gave them credit for.

She continued to look up at the clouds, her thoughts drifting to her father. Had he gotten back yet? Had he gotten her message? She'd left one telling him she'd stayed on to check out this little island she'd heard about, and that a storm had stranded her a bit longer than planned. It was the truth, anyway, if a very pared-down version of it. She knew he wouldn't mind in the least, he was always encouraging her to enjoy her freedom, her youth, and her growing bank account. She smiled. She and Griff had a lot of traits in common, but wanderlust wasn't among them. She'd already had her share of adventures, just growing up with him.

When he'd decided on settling in Parker's Inlet, she'd been surprised, but happily so. She was as ready for a slower, more steady pace of life as he'd claimed to be. She'd wondered if maybe he was doing it for her, if some latent parental gene had finally kicked in and he'd suddenly felt guilty for dragging her all over the place. She grinned. Big Griff was the last man to be swayed by what others saw as the norm.

If anything, he worried constantly that his need to set himself apart from the cutthroat, competitive politics of his sport and industry had stifled her own sense of adventure. She'd argued with him on many occasions that she was perfectly happy where she was. And she was perfectly happy with her life. Or had been before that stupid trunk had tumbled its way into it.

And just like that her thoughts drifted right back to Connal. Again. There really was no escaping him. Not on this island… or anywhere else she feared.

“Ye have him worried, ye know.”

Josie shrieked and almost slid off the edge of the cliff as she scrambled up to a sitting position. Her eyes had drifted shut somewhere along the line and she hadn't seen Bagan pop up next to her.

“You could have killed me!” She clutched both hands over her racing heart and scooted another foot or two back from the edge.

He looked honestly taken aback. “I merely thought to sit and dangle my feet with ye for a spell.” He clambered to a stand. “But if my company is no’ appreciated, then I suppose—”

“Oh, for heaven sakes, don't go off in a pout.” Geez, what was it about the little pain-in-the-kilt that made her care about him anyway? “Next time whistle or something before you just pop next to me, okay?”

Bagan nodded, sniffed, then sat down once again beside her. “I'd thought to come and apologize to ye.”

Now Josie was surprised. And wary. “Oh really.”

He looked at her, all sincerity and cherub cheeki-ness. “Aye, really. I shouldna’ hae argued with ye back at the croft. Tis only that I must still answer to Connal.” He sighed, quite a long-suffering sound it was too. “He is no’ an easy master to please, I confess.”

Josie found herself stifling a smile, though she couldn't have agreed with him more. Connal was rather… demanding. She abruptly shifted her thoughts away from just what he'd demanded of her a few short hours ago. And even more abruptly away from just how badly she'd wanted to give in to those
demands. But Bagan, for all that he spoke the truth, was so obviously working her, she was interested despite knowing better, in where he was headed with this. “What obligation has he burdened you with now?”

Bagan glanced away, but not before Josie spied what looked like real discomfort flashing across his face. So, he wasn't being a drama king. Well, not as much as usual anyway. “Bagan?”

He cleared his throat, but kept his gaze out to sea. “I, well, ye see, lass, I have an obligation to the both of ye. Now that yer his, you know I'm to guard ye until the blessed event takes place.”