The Charm Stone

by Donna Kauffman

  “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.”

  Chapter 12

  Connal 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.”

  Blessed event. She sighed. “We talked about this, Bagan. I don't need or want a guardian. Not to mention there will be no ‘blessed event.’ ”

  “Aye, well, that remains to be seen.”

  “And just how does he propose to make that happen? Even if I was to-you know,” she stammered, “And I'm not planning on it, but even if a miracle were to happen and I end up in—” This was impossible. “All I'm saying is, nothing can happen even if something happens, okay? As long as I'm taking—” She broke off as Bagan's face flushed a bright red. And not in embarrassment regarding the subject matter either. “Tell me you didn't.”

  “As I said, I have an obligation to the both of ye.”

  “You took them?” She climbed to her feet, hands fisted on her hips as she loomed over him. “How could you do that?” Especially considering the great pains she'd taken to hide them. Apparently she should have kept them on her person at all times. “I can't believe you'd betray me that way.” She laughed. “What am I saying? Of course I can believe it. You'll do anything to save face with him, given how badly you screwed things up last time.”

  Now Bagan scrambled to his feet, all offended and outraged. “Oh ho, now, lass. I believe you were the one to tell me it weren't my fault. About the storm and all. And now yer the one to go and cast stones.”

  She glared at him. “Don't tempt me.”

  He didn't even have the grace to look abashed. “I'm no’ doin’ this thing for my own pride,” he said stubbornly, “but for the good of the clan.”

  “I'm not in the clan!” she shouted. “Nor do I want to be. How can I get it through your head that I didn't want this, still don't want this, and will never want this?”

  Bagan didn't even blink at her outburst. Instead he merely cocked his head to one side, as a considering light came to life in his eyes. “Yer sayin’ ye dinna want Connal as yer own.”

  “Thank you. Now you're listening to me.”

  “So then, there are no worries regardin’ me havin’ yer medication now, is there.”

  “That's not the point and you know it.”

  “Ye've already made it clear yer going to leave the island on the next ferry, so you can replenish yer supply then, true?”

  Now it was Josie's turn to look away.

  “Lass?”

  She scowled, then relented. “Fine, fine, okay. Yes, I was going to leave. And I will.” She cast her gaze downward. “Just as soon as I give some lessons to the guys at Roddy's.”

  “Pardon me? I didna hear that last part.” He was grinning now. “Did you mean to say… surfing lessons?”

  She sighed. “Yes,” she said, then pointed a finger at him. “Which is the only reason I'm staying. At all.”

  Bagan raised his chubby palms to her. “Oh, I believe ye, lass.” He straightened his kilt, fiddled with his hat a bit, smoothed the sash across his chest. “In fact, I was just now tellin’ Connal that you had no plans to stay.”

  “Oh thanks, I'm sure that went over well.”

  “I wasna tellin’ him anything he didn't already know. He was well aware of yer aborted attempt to take the ferry, lass. In fact, I'd venture to say that, as close as he watches ye, there is naught ye can do that he willna know about. I thought ye'd at least ken that by now.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I ken it,” she muttered. So, he was watching her closely, was he? Why that sent a shiver of awareness-and not the kind filled with dread either-down her spine, she couldn't say. She'd felt him watching her on the beach earlier, had known that was the cause of the pull she felt, to look up at the tower.

  But she'd resisted the pull then, and she'd resist it again. And again. And as many times as it took until she was ready to board that ferry.

  He was obviously worried about that resistance, too, she realized. Why else show up as he had, right there in her bed? It was so obvious he was trying to use the power of sex to sway her to his will.

  She glanced out to the water again as she felt her skin heat. So, okay, she'd wanted to sway. The sex had been that good. But she'd had good sex before-maybe not quite as earth-shattering, but then she'd only had mortals up until now. Still, she knew what it was to feel good. But normally she didn't obsess over it, or the partner she'd shared the pleasure with.

  But then, nothing had ever come close to being like this.

  And, no matter how she'd talked up her willpower, to Bagan and herself, she knew she was only so strong. She'd walked away today, or pedaled as the case may be. But repeated exposure to Connal, and Connal's single-minded determination-especially where mind-blowing sex was involved-would likely wear her down at some point. She was, after all, only human.

  But she'd had a backup plan. Her pills. Even if she finally broke down and admitted to herself that she was perfectly willing to wallow in meaningless, if fabulous, sex with him… at least she knew she wouldn't get pregnant. As if that made it all okay. Her forehead began to throb.

  “I didna mean to bring ye such troubles,” Bagan said. “I came here to apologize for my role in ending your attempt to thwart Destiny. Not that it would have been thwarted anyhow. But Connal… well, he was never one to leave things entirely to the Fates.”

  That snapped her from her thoughts. She faced Bagan once again. “That's not the way I heard it.”

  Bagan's bushy white brows drew together. “Have ye been talkin’ to the townsfolk about Connal then?”

  “God no. I'm already one step away from being committed. And that's voluntarily, mind you. I don't need to let everyone else in on my psychosis.”

  Bagan simply looked blankly at her.

  She shook her head. “Never mind. I haven't told anyone about any of this. But I have asked questions about Connal's role in shaping Glenmuir's history.”

  Bagan trotted over to her, all concerned. “Now, now, don't be too quick to judge him, lass. History has no’ been too kind to him, that is true but—”

  “Gee, I wonder why?”

  Now Bagan pulled his contrite look on her. She merely folded her arms and stared at him.

  He held her steady gaze for a moment, then on a lingering sigh that would have brought tears to the eyes of Broadway veterans, he said, “ Tis my role that has brought the most tarnish to the MacNeil name. I was the one trusted to bring the stone, and his intended—”

  “Oh no, you're not pulling that on me. One minute it's all your fault, the next minute you're shocked and offended to be so much as whispered a
bout in conjunction with the downfall of an entire clan.”

  Bagan's expression returned to being shrewd and somewhat miffed in the blink of an eye. “Well, I hardly think it's fair to judge me so harshly.”

  Josie laughed. “I don't know what to think of you.” She waved him off from replying and finally let go of her anger. “I do know you honestly care for him, or you wouldn't be here.”

  “I'm here because I honestly care for you, too,” he said quietly, so quietly she actually thought he meant it.

  They held each other's gaze for a long moment, then Bagan gestured to the cliff edge. “Have a seat, lass, and let me tell you a bit about Connal and the real history of Glenmuir.”

  Josie found herself torn by the surprising offer. There was no denying she was curious, beyond curious, to know more about Connal. She also knew that learning more about him was risking feeling more for him than she already did. That stopped her cold. Surely all she felt for him was a need for screaming orgasms. What else was there between them at this point? He was demanding, stubborn, rude… and great in bed. Or chair. Whatever. But that was the only source of her fascination with him. It had to be.

  Didn't it?

  Bagan positioned himself on the rocky ledge, then patted the ground next to him.

  Josie wanted to step back. Run for her bike. Pedal away from Bagan and the temptation to learn anything else about a man who already took up entirely too much of her thoughts. But she didn't. Couldn't.

  She sat down next to Bagan, albeit back a few feet from the edge. “Okay, I'm ready.” Which was a lie. She had the feeling that where Connal was concerned, she'd never be fully prepared.

  “I'm no’ so sure where to begin. Tis a long and complicated story.”

  “I don't have anywhere to be until late this afternoon.” And the longer this took, perhaps the better. More than likely, if Connal knew Bagan was with her, he'd leave well enough alone. “Why don't you just start from the beginning?”

  Bagan fiddled with the soft fringe on his sporran, then finally dropped it and looked out to sea with a small sigh. “Perhaps it's best if I tell you the history of the stone, as well as Connal's management of it. It was Connal's great-grandfather, Ranulf, who came into the possession of it when he married a lass by the name of Mairead. Her family was directly descended from the Druids and had some rather powerful notions about things such as gods and Fate and Destiny. Their own powers were rumored to be strong and many steered clear of them for that reason. Not Ranulf. He fell deep in love with Mairead and was made a bride gift of the charm stone from Mairead's own mother. It was then my guardianship began.