The Charm Stone (23 page)

Connal turned to face him. “I know what happened between us, Guardian. 'Twas… celestial ”

When Bagan merely raised his white eyebrows, he said, “Dinna give me that look. I know I sound foolish, but there is no other way I can describe it. Only the gods would have enabled two people to join themselves as we did. Surely that union was blessed.”

Bagan tapped his chin and paced. “Hmmm,” was all he said.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Bagan paced on, silent for a moment, then turned to face him. “Ye say ye felt as if the gods had blessed ye. That it was no ordinary rutting about.”

“It was no’ rutting!” he all but shouted. “It was—”

“What?” Bagan asked, suddenly very interested in his answer.

Connal folded his arms and stared once again from the tower portal. “It was no simple slaking of pleasure is all I meant to say.”

“Hmmm,” Bagan responded again.

Connal whirled about, this time he'd wring the dwarf's neck for certain, only he found himself alone in the tower. “Just as well, imp,” he warned.

But as he looked once again out across the water, he couldn't help think on the guardian's words. This wasn't about surrendering his heart. He'd already surrendered his soul, surely that was enough. And it wasn't as if he found Josie abhorrent, in form or in intelligence. Nay, the Fates had seen to that. She'd do well in parenting their child.

Somewhere deep in his heart there was a small clutch as he imagined it, truly pictured her with a bairn in her arms. Their child. He knew he wouldn't be part of that picture, and felt that small clutch grab at him once again. He swung away from the portal. It didn't matter. His own needs and desires didn't matter in this. Josie would do what Fate had sent her here to do and that was all that mattered.

His part in this was done. He'd have to trust her as he'd trusted in the promise of the stone.

Trust her. That was asking much, but it was little enough when the alternative had been to allow Glenmuir, and the hopes of all who came before, to die. His fists tightened and his heart began to pick up speed. Now there
was
hope. There would be another MacNeil to rebuild Glenmuir!

He moved to the stairs, a maelstrom of emotions swirling inside him. He must find Josie. Merely to ascertain that she was well, and to put a few rules into place, he told himself. It wasn't because he'd missed seeing her awaken this morning, nor was it due to his own need to have her once again, taste her.

That stopped him cold. His bargain met now, there'd be no need to have Josie again. Nor to hold her, taste her. This time the clutch was lower and his heart felt as if it paused in midbeat. With all his strategizing, he'd not stopped to think that part through.

He'd only moments ago told himself his own needs and desires couldn't interfere, shouldn't. And yet… the idea of never touching her again… he couldn't even think on it without feeling that odd ache in his chest.

He tried to shake off the malaise. He should be celebrating, joyous in the rebirth of hope for Glenmuir. He'd been through much this past night, that was all. The fulfillment of a three-hundred-year-old bargain was enough to toss anyone's emotions about and he'd had a tempest full of them. He resumed his descent. But just because he'd have no need for her in his bed did not mean he was about to leave her alone completely. Nay, he would be involved in this venture, at least in as much as the gods would allow.

That thought had him slowing again as another realization sprung forth. He was still here today. He had not gone on to his greater glory… or to whatever plane the gods would see fit to send him. As Bagan had reminded him, they'd merely granted him the time to see the stone returned, his mate with it. But surely they knew as he did, as they'd not taken him the moment he held the stone, that it was only in creating a new life, the next MacNeil, that his destiny would be completely fulfilled.

Now that time had come. Finally, blessedly, amazingly. His knees folded and he sat hard on the stone step as the totality of this fulfillment washed through him. He'd truly done it.

The emotions that swept through him were close to overwhelming, but he recognized and could not ignore that not all of them were joyous. Josie would go on alone. At some point, the gods would call him back. Whether it be at the child's birth… or in the next instant, he did not know. And shouldn't care. He'd done what he set out to do.

Why then was there this piercing emptiness inside him?

He rubbed at his chest, then pulled his hand away and tightened his fingers into a fist. He'd managed this long with his focus intact, he'd not lose it now with the end so close. But see her he would, as mother of his unborn child and nothing more.

He stood then and finished his descent. He was across the sandspit and halfway up the beach, heading for the croft, when he saw the footprints. Narrow and long, but perfectly formed… just like their owner.

He turned and looked down the shoreline and spotted her, trailing just along the water's edge, head bent as if deep in thought.

“And Lord knows where those thoughts are this
morning,” he murmured. Best he had as much influence over them as possible, he told himself as he took off behind her, struggling to keep his newfound determination from wavering. He'd think only of the bairn, no’ of the feel of her, the taste of her, or the way they'd laughed even as they'd gasped in anticipation of their roaring completion.

Swearing silently as he struggled to block those images from his mind, he strode purposefully along the shoreline toward her.

She stopped and looked over her shoulder before he caught up. She remained where she stood, waiting for him, but with her hand shading her face against the rising sun, he couldn't see her eyes to be certain of her thoughts.

“Hello,” she said finally, as if at a loss on what else to say.

Now that he stood here before her, he realized his own tongue was not under his command either. She was… stunning. Her hair was a short tangle, tossed lightly about by the wind. Her legs were sheathed in some sort of soft gray fabric that clung to her hips and thighs, the bottom band tight and shoved up to just below her knees. Her top was also soft, white, and she wore nothing beneath. His body stirred and he willed his attentions elsewhere. His thoughts as well. But visions of last night assaulted him anyway. She'd been magnificent then, and despite thinking it impossible, she was even more magnificent to him now. And try as he might, his thoughts had very little to do with wee bairns.

He turned and looked out to sea. He'd have to get past this if he were to play any role in her life now. Any moment could be his last, and he wanted to spend whatever number of them he had left with her. And his unborn son.

“Would you care for company on your morning
stroll?” he asked, quite proud of his polite demeanor, which had cost him much since what he really wanted to do was take her in his arms and feast on those lips, taste her once again, have her beneath him so he- Dear Lord he needed to find control.

He shifted his attention to her when she didn't answer, only to encounter an unreadable expression on her face. “Is it so odd that I'd wish to accompany you?”

She folded her arms. “What's odd is you being so polite about it.”

He smiled then, even though her words stung a bit. “Have I been such an ogre then?”

She didn't smile in return. “At times, yes. And don't get me wrong, I'd rather the polite act than—”

“Act?” He heard the bluster in his voice and worked to tone it down. “ Tis no act. I spied you walking the beach and wished to spend time with you. But if that is no’ to your liking then—”

She reached out for him when he swung about, stopping him, then dropping her hand quickly when he turned back to face her. “I'm sorry,” she said. “It's just—” She lifted her hands, then dropped them again. Now it was her turn to look out to sea. “I'm confused this morning and I guess I was hoping to get my thoughts together before facing you.”

The first wisp of concern prickled the back of his neck. He didn't stop to consider the consequences and acted on instinct. He reached for her, took her arms in his hands and pulled her around to face him, so close that their knees almost brushed. “What thoughts are those?” he asked, searching her eyes. “Is it the bairn then? Are ye worried about being alone here to raise him, away from yer family?”

He knew he'd hit on the problem right off. Her gaze shuttered, then she looked away. He tipped her chin up. “Josie, listen to me. I know this must be
overwhelming to you, but I have faith that you were chosen wisely.”

She pulled from his grasp, or tried to. “There won't be a baby, Connal.” He let her go then and she stumbled back a few paces. She found her balance, then stood her ground firmly. Pushing the hair from her face, she sighed, and said, “I'm sorry, that's not how I wanted to say that. I know you have a great deal riding on this.”

It's not all about that,
he'd been about to say, then stopped when he realized it. What in the blazes was wrong with him this morning? “What do you mean, about the baby?” He moved closer, but she backed away, hand raised against him. The prickle of alarm became a full-fledged taste of fear. “Nothing happened to ye, did it? Josie, you must tell me. Is that why ye left my bed? Did something happen this morning?” Could something go wrong so quickly? He didn't think so, but his knowledge in this area was sorely limited. Maybe there was some way to—

“I wanted to tell you last night,” she said, mercifully interrupting his careening thoughts, “but you looked so happy, so… well, blissful is the only word I can think of to describe it. I-I didn't want to ruin that.” She looked down at the sand, pushing her toes into it. “And maybe I didn't want to ruin the rest of the night for myself either.” She nudged the sand again. “So there.”

If he wasn't so concerned and confused, he might have smiled at that last part. That she'd enjoyed herself and hadn't wanted the evening to end pleased him greatly. Too greatly perhaps, but that was for examination at another time. “What was there to tell me?” He stepped forward then, but again she shielded herself from his touch. That stung him almost as much as her previous declaration had
pleased him. “Tell me now, Josie,” he demanded, perhaps a bit more stridently than was prudent.

“I started my period this morning.”

He flinched despite himself. He didn't have to ask her to explain what she meant, that much he understood. “I see.”

“I'm sorry,” she said again, every bit as sincere. “But it wouldn't have happened anyway. Just missing one pill wouldn't have made me fertile; besides, it was the wrong time anyway. That's what I was going to tell you last night. I was already at the end of my cycle—”

“Please, enough.”

The silence spun out between them as he allowed the full import of her news to sink in. He didn't doubt she spoke the truth and wasn't about to ask for proof even if he did. His heart banged slowly, settling a bit lower in his chest now.

No wee one. No bargain met. He should have been crushed, devastated at having his greatest hope rudely snatched away before he could even fully comprehend all of it. But what filled his mind, and perhaps even some small part of his heart, was a sort of joy. There was no other word for it. Because he realized what else this news meant. He lifted his gaze to hers. He would have to claim her again.

As if she saw the intent in his eyes, she stumbled back, splashing a bit in the seafoam. “Connal, this doesn't mean I'm willing to-We can't—” She kicked at the water, splashing him, but he didn't flinch and continued toward her. She squealed then, turned, and ran off down the beach.

“A chase is it ye want?” he called out.

She spared a glance over her shoulder, but it wasn't fear he saw on her face. Or anger. It was… anticipation.

And that was all it took. That wee spark in her eyes. He had the fleeting thought that it would always be so between them, but refused to ponder it. He was too busy racing down the beach after her, his heart suddenly as fleet as his feet.

As if she could feel him near her, she darted up the beach, then back down toward the water, sending him on a merry chase. She squealed again when he lunged for her and barely missed, but she was grinning now. She kicked more water up at him, then again took off running.

He gave chase, surprised to realize the sound of laughter on the wind was his. “Yer mine, Josie,” he yelled out. “I'll have ye no matter how fast ye run.”

“Oh yeah?” she tossed over her shoulder, then darted straight out into the water.

He thought his heart simply stopped inside his chest when she dived cleanly into the waves. Without a second thought, he was in the water after her. He dived through the first wave, surfaced… and didn't see her.

He turned about, looked at the shore to see if she'd ridden in with the surf. Nothing. He spun back around. “Josie, where are you?” Real alarm filled him when she didn't surface and there was no bairn to conveniently place the blame on this time. “Josie!”

He felt a tapping at his back and whirled about. “Thank God. Dinna ever give me a fright such as that ag—”

“Tag. You're it.” She was smiling up at him one moment, then gone beneath the foam the next.

“Josie!” he thundered, no longer in the mood to play games. “Come back here.”

Her head bobbed up a surprising distance away. “Make me,” she said, then disappeared again.

Damn the woman. Did she think him part seal?

Chasing her down the beach was one thing, but he was not going to flounder about in freezing-cold water after her. He'd had enough of this. He climbed toward the beach.

He was almost out of the water when he heard the strangest sound behind him. Like a chicken clucking. He turned and found Josie, who was several yards down the beach and waist deep in the water, flapping her arms and making that ridiculous noise.

“Whatever are you doing?”

She merely continued, backing away from him as he walked toward her.

“I demand that you leave the water this minute.”

Her eyebrows lifted at that and he swore under his breath, remembering the consequences for giving her orders. But he'd be damned before he'd beg. And he was
not
going back into the water.