The tension that Connal had so deliciously rid her of last night crept back along her spine, making her doubly irritable. “Meaning?” She eyed him steadily.
Bagan gamely held her gaze. “The bairn, lass. Ye might be carryin’ the little lad as we speak.”
The tension ebbed, the relief sweet. Josie smiled. “I'm no’ carrying any bairn.”
“How can ye be so certain. The Fates—”
“Can't circumvent the Pill, as far as I know.”
“Pill?”
She nodded. “Small, hormone-filled tablet that prevents women from getting pregnant. Marvelous invention.”
Bagan looked quite concerned. “You've taken this pill?”
She nodded, seeing how upset he was and knowing she should feel bad. But she was hardly going to get pregnant just to make the dwarf happy. “Every day.”
Bagan sighed and stroked his chin. “Well, this is an unforeseen complication.” He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then a spark lit his bright blue eyes. “How many of these pills do ye have with you?”
“Enough,” Josie shot back. The ferry was scheduled for tomorrow. Then she'd sail away from this madness. She idly wondered if Connal would be up for one last night. Greedy, aren't we? She swallowed a grin. Sue me.
Bagan seemed unfazed by her remark, which should have alarmed her, but she was still daydreaming about another possible encounter with Connal.
He slid from the chair and waddled to the door. “There are clean clothes by the hearth for ye. Once yer dressed, I'll escort you back to the croft.”
That jerked her from her fantasies. “Where is Connal?”
Bagan turned and sent her a look. “What of it? Ye dinna need him now that ye've had yer pleasure of him, aye?”
Josie did have the grace to blush. “I wanted to thank him.” She quickly added, “For helping me with the fire.” Now that she thought of that, she realized she had no idea what kind of damage had been done. She had to take care of that before she left. Gregor didn't even know he had a houseguest, much less one that had tried to torch his cottage. “I'll let you know when I'm dressed,” she said, sadly accepting that her fling was over. Oh well, she thought, it would provide her with many a warm recollection. She smiled as she picked up her clothes. More than warm.
Then she realized that they were, in fact, her clothes. She shot a quick glance to the door, wondering who had retrieved them from the croft. Bagan, or Connal?
She dressed quickly, gave one last lingering look at the small, Spartan rooms. Somehow none of that had mattered last night. Were Connal to stride back in the room that moment, she thought it probably wouldn't matter now either.
Trying to ignore the twitch of desire, she called for Bagan, who led her back down the tunnel.
“Is the tide in?” she asked, wondering why they were going this route.
“Oh, aye, you could say that.”
The storm. Duh. She'd forgotten all about it. She'd been too busy making thunder of her own. The surf would likely be huge. She felt the adrenaline surge and she grinned. That was just what she needed. A good couple hours working the kinks out of her muscles.
They rounded a corner in the tunnel, only to arrive at the dead end Josie recalled from yesterday. “How does this work, anyway?” She started feeling along the stone for some kind of secret switch or something.
Bagan held a lantern, but there had been small sconces lit all along the passageway this time. “What do ye mean?”
“The door to the outside. Is there some kind of trick to opening it.”
Bagan looked perplexed. “It's right there, behind ye.”
Josie whirled around and damn if there wasn't a slender opening between the stones in the corner. “How did I miss that?” But the question went unanswered as she stepped through it only to be pelted by a cold rain. “Oh, great.”
The surf was deafening, which was likely why
Bagan was tugging on her shirt. She turned, and he handed her Connal's cloak.
“Put this over yer head, lass.” He went to step around her, as if to lead.
“No, that's okay,” she shouted to be heard over the deafening surf. “I can handle it from here.”
“Nay, lass,” he shouted back. “I'm to stay with ye, unless Connal is about.”
That stopped her. “What? You're kidding?” She didn't even bother to stand there and argue. All her sympathy for him being stuck out in this weather evaporated as her temper rose. “I do not need a chaperone,” she sputtered as she stalked up the beach. “And I'll be damned if I'm going to have you around, underfoot, questioning my every move.”
If he was answering her, or even keeping up with her, she had no idea, and refused to turn around and find out. How had such a wonderful night gone to hell so quickly? But then, when Bagan was around, that was par for the course. Well, it was only for one day, she told herself, then she'd be sailing out of here. Certainly she could manage to coexist with him for that long without killing him. If he didn't manage to kill her first.
As she neared the cottage, her concerns turned to the damage from the fire. She hoped it wasn't anything she couldn't repair or at least arrange to have taken care of after she was gone. She'd have to leave Gregor a letter explaining everything and apologizing. Busy thinking up what she was going to say, she almost tripped over Bagan as she stepped through the front door.
He smiled and waggled his fingers at her in a little wave. “Welcome home, lass.”
She was going to ask him how he managed to be here first, then noticed he was bone dry and remembered he didn't have to follow the laws of mere mortals like her. “Only until tomorrow,” she advised him, then turned around to get her first look at the damage. Only there wasn't any. She also realized she hadn't passed the sodden blanket out in the driveway either.
She faced Bagan once more, who was looking rather pleased with himself. “Did you do this?” she demanded.
“Och, ye think she'd be pleased with my efforts,” he said with a sniff. “Worked me little fingers to the bone for you, I did.”
She raised a brow, skeptical of that announcement, feeling smug when she saw the tinge of blush bloom on his cheery little cheeks. “Worked up a real sweat did you?” She surveyed the room again. “Must have been real hard, snapping your fingers like that.”
There was a loud huff from his direction. “ 'Twas more complicated than that, lass. But the fire did its job, so I wasna put off by a bit of cleanup.”
Josie turned slowly. “What do you mean, the fire did its job? That fire started by accident. I tripped.”
Bagan examined his nails, then some spot on the ceiling. “Aye, well, that ye did.”
Josie thought back to the night before as best she could. She'd come down the stairs, lit the candle on the mantel, then turned and tripped over the lamp. Only when she visually retraced her path now, she saw that the standing lamp wasn't anywhere near the mantel. In fact, it was by the chair near the front window. Which, now that she recalled, was where it had always sat.
Not making a real effort at restraining her temper, she let loose on Bagan. “I could have been hurt! I could have burned this place to the ground. If Connal hadn't shown up when he had—”
“Aye, but he did,” Bagan pointed out, not looking at all abashed by her outburst.
“I could have had third-degree burns by then!” She swung back around, looking for something to throw at him. She'd never been a violent sort, but this… this… miniature Scotsman could drive anyone to commit any number of violent acts. “I can't believe you'd risk something like that. What were you thinking?” She stalked to the small kitchen, but managed to keep from reaching for anything sharp.
Bagan followed her. “I only thought to bring the two of ye together, 'tis all. I've ne'er met with resistance such as yours in all my years as guardian to the stone. I never actually meant for the fire to start.”
She turned on him. “What? Exactly what did you think would happen when I tripped over that lamp?”
“I didna know ye'd be carrying a lit wick, lass. I simply thought—” She apparently looked fierce enough now to penetrate even his thick little head, because he actually took a step back. “If ye were to cry out, that 'twas all.”
“And you thought he'd hear me through that?” She motioned to the front window and the storm still raging on the other side of it.
“Oh aye, he'd have heard ye.”
He said it so certainly, it actually made her pause. And in that moment she decided it really wasn't worth fighting about. It was over and what had happened had… well, she could hardly complain about the outcome, now could she?
As if he were reading her thoughts, Bagan smiled at her, that damnable twinkle back in his eyes. “It all worked out well then, didn't it?”
She growled in his general direction, then sighed and nodded. “Oh aye. That it did, I suppose.”
Bagan scuffed his boot along the fringe of the rug. “So, there'd be no need to go tellin The MacNeil about my hand in this, would there then?” She looked at him, surprised, but quickly realized her advantage. “Why yes,” she said, her smile actually making him a bit nervous. “I think we can come to some sort of mutually satisfying agreement.”
Chapter 10
She's done what?”
Bagan nudged at the sand with his boot. “She canno’ be carryin’ yer babe. She's taken a pill to keep her barren.”
Connal turned away from the water and looked toward the croft. Bagan had been out of sight since yesterday and now he knew why. But that wasn't what angered him. He'd done little but think on his night spent with Josie. And not once had he thought that Destiny might have put her plans in motion.
“You wait until now to tell me this?” he demanded tightly, perfectly willing to let Bagan think his anger was directed at him.
“Ye said my job is to watch over her now.”
“Ye don't have much to watch over if she's barren, do ye now?”
Bagan said nothing, leaving Connal to stalk along the shoreline. The rains had finally ended, but the storm had left the beach strewn with flotsam and jetsam. The sun was setting and there was still no sign of her. He'd expected her to be tempted by the heavy surf, but she'd remained in the croft all day. When the dwarf had finally emerged, Connal had actually been happy to see him.
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.”
The Charm Stone Page 11