The Charm Stone

by Donna Kauffman

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’.”

  Josie felt awful. She hadn't believed they really meant to go through with it. Not really. “I wasn't planning to stay. I-I thought you all knew that.”

  “Dinna worry about it, lass. We're used to folks going rather than coming.”

  How had she gotten herself in this situation anyway? Josie sighed and tried like hell not to think about things like Fate and Destiny. She worked up a smile and said, “Well, it appears I'm not going anywhere quite yet. The ferry must have changed its schedule because of the storm.”

  “Aye, happens often as not.”

  “Must make it hard for you all to count on things like mail and supplies.”

  Dougal turned his attention to her, his voice warming a bit. “Island living has its ups and downs. It's all in what you want from a life, I suppose. There's nothing I can't do without for a few days.”

  “Unless it's surf gear and you want your first lesson before your instructor heads back to the mainland.”

  Dougal chuckled. “Well, there is that now, lassie, there is that.” He opened the door to Roddy's and swept an arm in front of him. “After you, Madame Instructor.”

  What choice did she have? She was a guest of Glenmuir for at least another day. She saluted Dougal and led the way into the pub. Maybe a sandwich and an ale would help her figure out what in the hell she was going to do next. Maybe three or four ales, she amended, when the rest of the quartet hailed her entrance like a hero come home from the wars.

  “Caught this one tryin’ to leave the island.”

  All three faces fell and Josie was torn between scowling at Dougal and digging a hole to hide herself in.

  “I'm sorry, really, it's just that—”

  “Afraid we'd show her up on that board of hers, most like,” Dougal butted in, then shot her a wink. “Now with the ferry off schedule, we've a few more days to convince her to give us a shot at it.” He turned to her. “So, what do ye say, Josie lass?”

  The other three men turned somewhat anxious stares her way. And what was she supposed to do? So she nodded, and they all cheered. She only felt marginally better.

  A few more days? What was she supposed to do? How could she explain she didn't want to go back to Gregor's without sounding even more ungrateful than she'd already come off looking today? They'd done nothing but treat her well since she'd stepped foot on the island.

  “I've found the most likely source for our gear,” Roddy told her almost gleefully, turning to pour her an ale without even being asked.

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do? I m
ean, it's an awful huge investment for—” She wasn't sure how to finish without insulting him.

  “Tis alright.” He patted her hand. “Dinna worry, Miss Josie, we know what we're about. Now, I've some roast beef today, if you'd like. Or a bowl of Maeve's stew.”

  “The stew sounds good,” she said. She sort of liked the way they took care of her. Not that she needed taking care of. She'd done a fine job of that all her life. Whatever her dad hadn't been able to handle, she'd handled just fine all by herself.

  Her dad. She accepted the ale from Roddy, then asked, “Is there a phone I could use?” She lifted a hand and smiled. “Don't worry, I'm calling collect.”

  Roddy's bushy brows furrowed. “Storm knocked out our switchboard, such as it is. Pain in the arse it is, too, since I canno’ get on-line until Maeve gets it fixed. Don't suppose you know anythin’ about electrical wiring?”

  Josie shook her head. “Sorry.” The call to her dad would have to wait. Not that this upset her overly much. He would be getting back from Hawaii today and would expect her to be home by now, but with everything going on, she'd forgotten to leave him a message saying she'd stayed on. Well, she hadn't exactly forgotten, more like she'd procrastinated. Mostly because she didn't know what to say. She could hardly lie and tell him she'd stayed with Finola, since she'd likely left a message of her own thanking her father for their participation in the competition.

  No. She was going to have to tell him something, and that something was probably going to have to be the truth. Or at least part of it. But which part?

  She tuned back into the conversation and realized they were talking about the storm.

  “Haven't seen one quite like that for as long as I can remember,” Clud was saying.

  “That was one for the record books it was. Took down Old Ian's last tree, it did.” Gavin chuckled and sipped his ale. “Sent the sheep into a panic. We'll be weeks sortin’ them all out again.”

  “Och, go on with yersel’, Gav,” Clud said. “This isle has seen its share of storms, I'm telling ye. This was no’ the worst it's seen, though I suppose Josie here probably believed it to be the second reckoning.” He turned to her. “How was it out at Gregor's place? Rattled the roof but good, no doubt. Probably what sent ye packin’ up this morning, wasn't it?”

  He was handing her the perfect out. She could have kissed him. “I've seen some wild storms in my time, but that one was pretty intimidating. I guess I'm not used to being so remote and all…”They were all nodding and she knew that now was the time to ask if there was somewhere else she could stay. But instead, she heard herself ask, “Has anyone ever said anything about the tower being haunted?”

  All three men paused, midsip, and glanced at each other. Gavin slowly lowered his mug to the bar. “What brings ye to ask such a question? Do you think ye saw something out there?”

  “I-I'm not sure.” She was a terrible liar. But what was she supposed to say? Oh, I saw something all right, in fact, I made wild, passionate love to it. For hours. She should have kept her mouth shut.

  Roddy folded his arms and leaned on the bar. “What exactly did you think ye saw?”

  Good going, Josie. “A-a light. Or something. Coming from the tower windows.”

  Clud waved away her concern. “Och, was likely just the lightning playin’ tricks on ye.”

  “So you're saying the tower isn't haunted?”

  “Oh no, I didna say that, lass. There's been tales of those claiming to have seen things out that way for a long time.”

  She looked at him. “How long?”

  He shrugged. “Oh, years. As children we used to tell stories late at night about the dead MacNeil who failed his clan and was forced to haunt the tower, awaiting his true love.” He laughed harshly and sipped his ale. “Gregor thinks he talks to the dead, but then Gregor spends too much of his time soused in ale, he does.”

  “Oh, now you've gone and done it, Clud, you oaf,” Gavin said. “She's gone pale as Maeve's shortbread.” He leaned over and patted her hand. “Dinna ye listen to him, lass. He's right about auld Gregor. Man would claim to see a UFO if he thought we'd believe him.”

  Josie managed to swallow the bite of stew she'd taken. His true love. More like his true broodmare, she thought disgustedly. As much as she wanted to plead fear and beg for a new place to stay, she knew she couldn't do it. It was bad enough she'd hurt their feelings, she'd not hurt their pride. If it ever got out that she'd brought the charm stone back to the island, that she'd known all along about “the dead MacNeil,” much less that said dead MacNeil thought she was his true love… well, she didn't want to imagine the expressions on their faces then. No, she'd just have to go back to Gregor's and wait it out. It was either that or drive to the far end of the island and sleep in her car. Actually, that idea had some merit.

  “When is the next ferry?”

  Clud, Dougal, and Gavin exchanged a glance, then looked to Roddy, who cleared his throat and turned to her. “Well, likely it will be here three days hence.”

  Three more days? Three days of Bagan's inadvertent tyranny? She gulped. Three more nights of not flinging her newly discovered multi-orgasmic self at Connal?

  Roddy cleared his throat again and began wiping down the already shiny bar.

  Josie forced the images of Connal and exactly how he'd go about extracting those multiple orgasms out of her mind and turned her attention back to Roddy. “What is it?”

  “ 'Tis nothing, it's just that—” He broke off, shot a scowl at his comrades, then let go a deep sigh. “It's just that we've got our hearts set on trying out this surfin’ and even if I manage to get the order sent today, we canno’ get our gear here till the second ferry next week. I dinna suppose ye can stay that long. Can ye?”

  Josie looked at their wrinkled, shadow-bearded, expectant old faces… and knew she was lost. Fate and Destiny be damned. She swallowed a sigh, telling herself she was staying of her own free will. Not because of some charm stone, and certainly not because of a three-hundred-year-old ghost with incredibly talented fingers.

  No, she was only staying so she could commit quadruple homicide by trying to teach four seniors to surf. Much better.

  “I'll need to get ahold of my dad when the phones are back up and working. He's expected back home soon and I need to let him know I'll be working from here for a while.”

  “Phone call is on the house,” pronounced a jubilant Roddy, who hurriedly filled her mug again. “And we'll pay ye.” At the look on the other three's faces, he stared them down and said, “Won't we, boys?”

  “Already payin’ for the gear—”

  Clud's grumble was cut off when Gavin elbowed him in the gut. “Ye want her to stay, or not?” he whispered fiercely. “It's no’ a cruise, but it'll be fun. Most fun we've had since we put those sheep in Old Bidda Stewart's loft.”

  Josie wagged a finger, trying like hell to not be charmed and failing miserably. “Now, this isn't like when you were kids, you know. Surfing is—”

  “Oh, they weren't talkin’ about their childhood exploits, lass,” Roddy piped in with a laugh. “Hell, this was just last spring.”

  Josie's mouth dropped open. “I've been conned by a band of senior delinquents.”

  Clud actually smiled. “Ye've promised us now. And I'm sorry I grumbled about the payment. I'll be glad to toss in my share.”

  Josie looked at them consideringly. “Well, it will cost you…”

  Always the crafty one, Dougal leaned forward, intrigued. “What have you in mind there, lass?”

  “If I'm to work from here, I'll need some art supplies. Nothing too fancy, but—”

  “Aye, just make us a list. Roddy will order it up when he orders our gear.”

  “And you'll have to sit for me.”

  They all looked at her, nonplussed. “Pardon?” Gavin finally asked.

  “I've been toying with an idea for a series of designs inspired by my trip here in Scotland.”

  “And ye want to draw our auld mugs?”
Roddy laughed and Dougal and Gavin joined him. “Who'd want to buy a surfboard with our ruddy likenesses drawn all over it?”

  “I think it's a fine idea,” Clud said, surprising them all. He turned to Josie. “I'd sit for ye, lass.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a grin. “You can be first. Tomorrow afternoon?”

  He paled, but in the face of the other three's avid interest, he nodded stiffly. “I'd be proud.”

  “Great.” She turned to Dougal. “You can be next,” she told him, trying hard not to grin when he paled a bit himself. She leaned over and patted his hand. “Dinna worry, lad,” she said with a dry imitation of his accent, “I don't paint nudes.”

  She thought that Roddy would burst an internal organ, he laughed so hard at that one. So she turned to him next. “Well, I might make an exception. If your wife doesn't mind, that is.”

  They all howled as his face turned beet red. Maeve came in just then, telling them the phone line was repaired and asking what all the uproar was about.

  “Josie's gonna draw Roddy in his birthday suit, Maeve. What think you of that?”

  Maeve looked to Josie and winked. “I think Josie here'll finally realize why a Scot wears nothing beneath his kilt.”

  Roddy roared with laughter and came around the bar to give his wife a resounding kiss. “Married the best one of the lot, I did.”

  She snagged his towel and snapped his backside with it as he walked back around the bar. “Aye that ye did, and don't ye be forgettin’ it.” She tossed the rag after him and turned to Josie. “Come now, I'll save you from the deplorable influence of the likes of these.”

  Josie wondered if she knew about the surfing lessons, but decided now was not the time to explain just who the bad influence was around here. “I need to use the phone, if that's okay.”

  “As long as the webmaster there doesna need it, yer welcome to it.”

  “Just let me know when yer done, lass,” Roddy called out. “And give me that list of supplies ye'll be needin’.”

  “Supplies?” Maeve asked as she held the door for Josie.

  Josie pasted on an innocent smile. “Well, since I'll be staying for a while, I thought I'd get some work done.”