“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.
She stopped clucking and skated her hand across the top of the water, sending a sheet of it directly at him. “Come on, you were so close. Don't give up now.”
“When you are cold enough, you will come out.”
She smiled and shook her head, as if he were a particularly dull-witted lad. “Oh, I don't mean close to catching me. I could have you chasing me for hours.”
She lowered her arms then and he got his first glimpse of just how perfectly transparent the water had left her white shirt. And how pebbly hard the water had rendered her nipples. Hours, he thought. Nay, he'd catch her instantly, then spend those hours delighting in making her pay for her little escapade. He imagined they'd both enjoy that a great deal more than this ridiculous game.
“What I meant was that you were almost close to having fun.” She folded her arms across her, attempting to hide the fact that she was shivering.
“Ye'll catch your death. Come out of the water.”
“Why did you stop? Didn't you ever play in the waves as a boy?”
“Josie.”
“Answer me and I'll come out.”
He sighed. “There was no time. I was in training.”
She gaped, then said, “What could a small boy possibly need training for? It's not like you were next in line for the clan throne or anything.”
She almost got a flicker of a smile with that. Never once had he thought any of those years something to smile about. “There was no throne, that's for royalty. I was being trained to fight. Second sons and any who came after were to be soldiers.”
“I got that from what you told me before. But surely they didn't expect some little five-year-old to—”
“I've answered your question, now come out of there,” he interrupted, not at all liking the fact that she was championing the boy he had once been. When she stood her ground, he swore. “ 'Tis the way things were done, like it or no’.” She didn't budge. “Och, ye drive a man mad, Josie.”
She grinned at that. But didn't move.
He surrendered. “Aye then, I suppose there might have been a time or two that I wasted an afternoon away playing at swords. Is that what ye so badly needed to hear?”
“Playing at swords, huh?” She shook her head, but began to wade toward the beach. “That's not exactly what I meant, but I suppose it'll do.”
He moved toward her, to do what exactly he wasn't aware. He was simply drawn to her. But she moved beyond his reach, plucking her shirt from her skin and wringing out the excess water.
“Ye should get out of those wet things.”
She snorted. “You wish.” She bent to wring out the legs of her pants, which were pushed up beyond her knees once more. “It's a bright, sunny day. I'll dry out quick enough.” Done with her chore, she set off again down the beach, without even so much as a look in his direction.
Once he got over the shock of being so roundly dismissed, he frowned. He'd not chase after her a moment more today, nor would he beg for her company. He would return to his tower. She'd come to him at some point, as she had before. All he had to do was wait. He bit back an oath.
Lord, but he was tired of waiting.
She bent down then and retrieved something from the sand. “Connal, come here. Look at this.”
Thinking she'd found something of import-and refusing to acknowledge the deep sigh of relief her summons had wrung from him-he went to her. Grudgingly, or so he hoped to appear. “What is it?”
She turned, smiling bright as the sun, and showed him her treasure. “Look, I've never seen one like this. What do you call it?”
He frowned. “A seashell. Certainly you have them where you're from.”
She rolled her eyes, a habit she was far too fond of around him. “I know it's a seashell. I meant what kind is it, what's its name?”
It was bad enough she made him race about this morning, but he drew the line at being made sport of. “I've never made a study of them,” he said dis-missively, when in truth he'd never been aware they had specific names.
She didn't seem to care, her attention was already back on the shell. “I'll have to ask Maeve then.”
“What is so important about it?”
She looked at him again in that way of hers. “I collect them.”
“Shells,” he said, certain she must have meant something else.
“Aye,” she said with a saucy grin. “It's a hobby. Not that you'd know anything about that,” she added dryly.
He shouldn't be offended as he'd never once thought himself in need of adopting some mind-numbing task such as the collecting of shells. “Whatever do you do with them once you've harvested them?” he heard himself ask.
“I put them around. Some are on shelves, some in glass bowls.” She shrugged. “They're pretty. I like looking at them.”
He took the shell from her fingers and examined it. It was a dull gray on one side and pure white on the other. “Aye, I can see where this would add to the beauty of your surroundings.”
She snatched it back. “You wouldn't understand.”
He had no earthly idea what made him do it, but he took her arm when she went to turn away, and said, “So help me understand then.”
She eyed him warily. “Really?”
“Dinna test my patience. Ye've already made me play the seal today.”
“Och, well, we wouldn't want you to have too much fun all in one day, would we?”
“Fun? You call floundering about in ice-cold water fun?”
She poked his chest. “I heard you laugh.”
He gripped her finger and held it tightly. “What of it?”
“Didn't it feel good?”
“All I remember is the cold.” Which was a lie. Looking down into her shining eyes, all he could remember was how badly he'd wanted her last night. And how he wanted her even more right now.
“Do you have any pockets?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“In that kilt. Pockets?”
He had his sporran strapped about his hips, soggy though it was now. “What are ye in need of holding?”
She slid her hand from his, then took hold of it and turned it palm up. She placed her prized shell in the middle of it, then folded his fingers over it. “This. Don't let it break. It's really a perfect specimen.”
As are you, he found himself thinking.
Then she was grabbing his hand and tugging him down the beach. “Josie, really, I—”
She didn't stop. “What, you have business meetings this morning? Something more important to do than brooding in that tower of yours?”
“I dinna brood.”
“Ye could hae fooled me,” she said in her rapidly improving brogue. “Come on, we're going shell hunting.”
“Shell hunting.”
“Aye. Give me an hour and I'll show you all the finer points of finding the perfect seashell. We can start a collection for you, dress up those dreary rooms of yours.”
“Dreary are they,” he said, knowing perfectly well they were that and worse.
“Dreadful,” she said, then shot him a teasing look. “Though I rather like that chair.”
His entire attitude underwent an abrupt change.
“Oh no you don't,” she warned. “Shell hunting.” She gripped his hand with determination. “I should never have said that.”
He found his own smile then as he let her tug him on down the shore. “Ye were the one spoutin’ off about the wonders of playing. I could show you—”
“Oooh! Look.” She let go and bent to retrieve yet another shell. It was differe
nt in shape, but other- wise looked pretty much the same to him. “Connal, lo—”
He cut off her exclamation with a kiss. He didn't even think about it, he simply had to. She allowed the kiss, but only after a moment did she sigh and lean into it. He broke it off almost immediately, or they'd both be getting sand in places he'd rather they not.
“What was that for?”
Because you're so beautiful, sometimes it makes my heart hurt. She was positively shiny, so full of life, he began to see just how dull and dreary he must seem to her. “Ye want me to enjoy this adventure, then I'll have a kiss every so often, so I remember why I let you drag me about.”
“Ah. So it's all about sex, then. Men.” She shook her head, but didn't seem overly upset.
“I am that, aye.”
“Oh aye, that you are.” She simply pushed his chest when he went to take her in his arms again.
He found he liked this kind of playing. The intensity was still there, the aching need, stalking right around them. But between them, her teasing would dissolve any and all frustrations. With nothing more than a quick smile and a wry word she'd push him beyond simple physical awareness until his entire being was engaged, her every breath awaited with barely restrained anticipation. He'd never experienced such a thing, had never known it was possible to feel such a connection to another person.
“I'm not saying I would have traded sex for an hour of shell hunting anyway,” she went on, “but you do recall that I told you earlier that I'm having my—”
“Aye, aye, ye dinna have to tell me again.” Please God, he added, hoping like hell the sun didn't highlight the color rushing to his face. She laughed then and he scowled, which somehow comforted him as it was the role he was most familiar playing with her.
“So, are you going to stalk off now that you can't have what you want?” It was a dare pure and simple.
And she had no idea what he wanted. Hell, at the moment he was beyond reasoning it out himself. But there was no ignoring that glint in her eye. Swearing silently, he took her hand in his and set off down the beach at what could only be termed a march. “Shell hunting we go.”
“Oh please, your enthusiasm is simply too much.”
The Charm Stone Page 18