The Charm Stone

by Donna Kauffman

  Dougal turned to her, grinning like a little kid on Christmas morning. “I don't suppose we could bribe ye to give us a real lesson this evening could we?”

  “I'll help you go over your gear tonight. You all have to try it on and make sure it fits. Tomorrow morning will come soon enough.”

  He pouted as she patted him on the arm, then shouts from the boat drew their eyes to the water.

  Someone was waving from the deck of the boat and the men were all waving and hollering back. Josie, however, stood rooted to the spot, frozen, certain her eyes were playing tricks on her.

  “Wha-?” was all she managed to get past her suddenly tight throat.

  Roddy turned to her and gave her a wink. “Now ye see why we brought ye down here. 'Twas no just the gear we had shipped in, but a wee surprise for ye as well, Josie lass.”

  She'd half suspected something of the sort was going on, but she'd thought it was just the art supplies she'd ordered. She thought maybe they'd gone and done something foolish, like order her a drafting table or something. But this… she'd never suspected this. “We?” she squeaked, as her heart bumped, then began pounding furiously.

  “I hope yer no’ mad at us,” Clud said. “He made us keep it a secret.”

  She looked at them all. Gaped, actually. “You all knew?” She looked back to the ferry… and the man shouting hello from the deck. Big Griff. Her father. Was here. On Glenmuir. “But how? Why?”

  Roddy threw his arm around her shoulders. “I'd only order from the best, and figured who else could I trust but the man who taught our teacher? We got to e-mailing each other and we sort of told him about the lessons ye were going to give us and well, he decided to bring the stuff out personally.” He laughed and hugged her. “Dinna be angry wi’ us for not tellin’ ye.”

  “I'm-I'm not.” And she wasn't. She was too shocked to feel anything. Her father. Here. A grin finally split her face and she waved madly back at Griff as the reality finally sunk in.

  It seemed to take forever for the ferry to dock.

  She was on the ramp even before it was fully secured. “Dad!”

  “Josiecat,” he said, his big voice booming even over the groan and squeal of the boat being moored.

  She was swallowed in his embrace seconds later. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, I thought I'd come meet the merry band of fairies and pixies that had stolen my daughter away from me.”

  Josie laughed past the brief blink of panic his comment caused. Connal. The charm stone. Bagan. Talk about your fairy magic. But she refused to think about that right now.

  “Surfing lessons is it?” He nodded to the group of men clustered at the bottom of the ramp. “To these fine young gents?”

  “Now, Dad, you of all people should—”

  He laughed. “I'm just teasing you. But I was sort of hoping there'd be at least one under the age of fifty in the group. You know, one you'd be giving more personal lessons to?” He looked down at her, his eyes twinkling.

  “Since when have you wanted to play matchmaker with me?”

  He hugged her. “Oh, I've always wanted to see you happy, little cat.”

  She pulled back and looked up at him, honestly surprised. “I am happy.”

  “You're stuck with a bunch of old people. First me and my crew and now these guys.”

  “I'm not stuck with anyone. I happen to love you, and I like these guys, too.” She grinned. “A tad eccentric, the lot of them,” she said with a brogue, then smacked him on the arm before grabbing his hand. “You'll fit right in.”

  Griff laughed and let her tug him down the ramp, where introductions took place with a hearty host of slapped backs and shaking of hands. It was like a reunion of old friends and Josie wondered just how long they'd all been e-mailing each other. She shook her head in bemusement and followed as Griff was swallowed up and all but carried off to Roddy's pub, where ales were had and stories shared before finally someone remembered the boxes of gear.

  “Dear Lord, we left it all sitting on the dock,” Gavin said. “After all this, we went and forgot it.”

  “No ye didn't.”

  They all turned to find Maeve standing in the doorway. “It's over in the store. I signed for the lot of it.”

  Roddy came out from behind the bar and kissed her. “Thanks, love.”

  She swatted him, but let him kiss her again. “Ye might want to hold off on those kisses until ye see what's in the boxes.”

  He frowned and the room all but stilled. “What d'ye mean? Is there something wrong with the gear?” He looked to Griff, who just shrugged.

  “Shouldn't be,” he said. “It's all there as far as I know.”

  Roddy looked back to his wife. “Maeve?”

  She looked to Griff and winked. He winked back. Then she smiled up at her husband. “Yer no’ the only one with surprises up your sleeve.”

  Roddy looked from Griff to Maeve and frowned. “I'm no’ thinking I like surprises.”

  Griff roared with laughter and Maeve flushed furiously and swatted him again with her towel. “Roddy!”

  Roddy flushed a bit, too, but laughed as well. “I wasna really worried,” he said, pulling her to him. “I know yer a happily married woman.”

  She let him buss her loudly on the cheek, then said, “Just see as ye keep it that way, laddie.”

  Roddy's eyebrows lifted as everyone hooted and hollered, then he grinned devilishly, and said, “We'll see to the unpackin’, then we'll see to the rest.”

  Maeve pulled out of his arms then, cheeks dark pink. “Enough of this foolishness,” she said, though any fool could tell if she'd been anywhere else she'd have had Roddy right where she wanted him, Josie thought, blushing a bit, too.

  She caught her dad grinning at the display in obvious affection and spent a moment wondering why he'd never remarried. She'd asked him more than once, though it had been years since the last time, back when she was a young teen experiencing her first crush. He'd told her then that he'd been blessed with finding his soul mate and although their time together hadn't been for as long as he'd have liked, he was content just knowing such a love could exist.

  Funny, she hadn't thought of that in years. She grinned to herself and took another sip of ale. Of course, for all his talk of soul mates, he'd certainly not lived the life of a monk since her mother's death. Far from it. And yet, she thought, as she sipped some more, he had never been remotely serious about any of them.

  She supposed that was why she'd been so surprised by his matchmaking comments. Griff had never struck her as the type to worry about that kind of thing. He was much more the type to live for the moment. And he did, with gusto.

  She studied him as he got up and followed Roddy and Gavin next door to retrieve the gear boxes. Tall, strong, and still quite handsome if she did say so herself. She'd never once felt sorry for him or thought him to be lonely or unhappy. Had he honestly worried that she might be either of those things?

  She was distracted from that train of thought when they came back with the boxes, followed by Maeve and Posey. Josie wished she'd had a camera to capture the expression on the boys’ faces when Bidda stepped in behind them.

  “Can I help ye, ladies?” Roddy asked, obviously as surprised as the rest and just as obviously hopeful they were here because they'd developed a sudden thirst for an ale.

  “No, no,” Posey said. “We're here to look at our order.”

  There was a moment of dead silence, followed by the sound of Dougal clearing his throat. “Our order?”

  Posey beamed. “Aye.”

  Roddy looked to his wife, who smiled back at him and said, “That surprise I started to tell ye about before you got all hot to trot.”

  Josie almost choked on her ale, laughing.

  Somehow that sound drew the attention of all four men to her.

  “What?” she managed, trying to look completely innocent.

  “What have ye to say about this?” Clud demanded.

  She sat
her tankard down and stood. “I have to say that the ladies have every bit as much right to learn to surf as you all do. I'm an equal opportunity instructor.” She winked at Maeve, then turned back to them. “Now why don't we stop all this and have a look at what you bought? I've been waiting all day for this fashion show.”

  “Fashion show?” Dougal asked, swallowing hard.

  “Oh, aye. Only way to see if the gear is proper. Consider it part of your training.” She waved at them all. “Dad and I will sit right here while you all go and try your suits on.”

  “All of us?” Roddy looked from Maeve to Bidda, then back again when she gave him a swift elbow to the ribs.

  “All of you.”

  Chapter 18

  Of course, if she kills the lot of them, you won't have a legacy left to worry about,” Bagan offered, looking down from the tower at the surf lessons commencing in the swirling waters below.

  Connal merely grunted, not up to sparring with the little guardian today. A week had passed since their talk on the beach and she'd yet to come to him. He'd been relieved when the ferry had come and gone and she'd remained, yet there would be another ferry, then another.

  He looked to the skies. Though blue and cloudless today, he knew another storm brewed out over the waters and was heading this way. Were the Fates proving he'd done the right thing, that his faith in the stone's promise was being rewarded by stranding her here longer, giving them more time together? He'd struggled long and hard with the decision to leave her be, to trust in that faith that had delivered the stone back to him, along with Glenmuir's future.

  But this sitting about and doing nothing was driving him mad. It was one thing to await the stone and his promised one, even for what had felt like eternity, but to stare down upon her, day after day, and trust that it would all work out as he believed… as he had to believe-

  “Three hundred years to ponder the meaning of it all and ye still are too stubborn to see it.” Bagan made a tsking sound and shook his head.

  “Too stubborn to see what, Guardian? Am I no’ supposed to trust the stone? The gods and Fates have conspired to fulfill the destiny I so dearly bargained for. Surely they wouldna allow her to leave without seeing the rest of the bargain met. The storm on the horizon is proof of their commitment, is it no’?”

  Bagan rolled his eyes. “They had no deal wi’ ye, Connal, other than to allow yer miserable carcass to haunt this tower waiting on the stone.”

  “A stone which has been delivered… and yet here I remain. If no’ for the promise of an heir, then what for?”

  “The stone has already delivered on its promise. Tis only waiting on you to fulfill it. And yet, here ye sit, doin’ nothing to secure it. Yer father and his father before him were smart enough to seize the opportunity provided and make it theirs.” He hopped down from the portal ledge and waddled closer. “Your opportunity is finally at hand. And if ye fail in this, ye have no one but yerself to blame.”

  “But I canno’ force myself on her, Bagan. I will no’.”

  Bagan merely smiled and took Connal's hand. “How many times must I say it? 'Tis not about the babe, laddie. It's about yer heart. And hers. Where the heart goes, the rest will follow.”

  Connal looked to the tower window, and when he looked back, the imp was gone. He sighed heavily and, thoughts swirling like the black clouds that would soon cross the horizon, his attention was drawn inexorably to the scene below once again. He watched Josie smiling, her father's booming laughter filled the air as well, as they guided the islanders through the vagaries of wave hunting. They were starting in the shallows, which, he thought, was wise. If she could keep them there, perhaps they'd survive this insanity they'd undertaken.

  Her father looked to be a hale sort and it was clear there was a deep well of love and respect between them. It caused him a momentary twinge near his own heart. Not for the lack of such a relationship of his own. His father had loved him well and he knew it. The pang came from imagining having such a relationship with his own child… and realizing that would never come to be.

  But watching her, he knew he could trust her to do it for him. She had the heart and the love for it. And yet she'd told him once that she'd only bear the child of the man she loved.

  “So, how do I make you love me enough to bear me a son?” he murmured.

  'Tis not about the babe, laddie. 'Tis about yer heart.

  Bagan's words floated through his mind. What possible good could come from him gaining her heart? Or losing his own to her? Unlike his father, and his father before him, he was not destined to share a life with her. Wouldn't losing their hearts only bring pain to them both when the inevitable happened and his time here came to an end?

  But if she would only commit to bearing the child of one she loved, what other path did he have to travel?

  He looked down at her as she helped guide one of the ladies toward a small swell, showing her how to steer the board to the left, then the right. And as he stood there alone, apart from her and the zest and excitement for life that seem to radiate from her every movement… he admitted something to himself in the quiet of the tower room. His heart was already compromised.

  It was what had made the waiting unbearable, he realized. And worse, despite what he'd said to Bagan and even to himself these past long days, his wanting of her had precious little to do with getting a bairn in her belly. He wished it were so, had tried to will it to be so. But, if he were to be brutal in his honesty, he was actually fearful of that moment ever happening, as it would mean never seeing her, touching her, hearing her, tasting her… ever again. There should be guilt to accompany those selfish thoughts and guilt he indeed had. It was the only thing that had kept him in this tower. Yet he could not take his eyes off of her, nor stop thinking about her.

  That and the hurt. The hurt he felt because his heart was the only one involved. Care for him she might, enjoy his attentions she did, but she didn't feel for him the depths of emotion he'd come to admit he felt for her.

  It shouldn't matter. He was laird first, man last, if at all.

  And yet it was the man who stood there and wanted. Wanted like he'd never wanted before. It had nothing to do with his people, or the prosperity he'd bargained his soul to reclaim for them.

  It simply had to do with him. Wanting her. And more than that, wanting her to want him back. Not for the pleasure he could give her body… but for the pleasure she would have in just being with him. A pleasure he well knew existed, because he felt it every time he looked at her.

  Because he knew he was done waiting. Only this time when he left the tower, he didn't leave it as a laird. He left it as a man. A man determined to have his woman's heart. The rest would have to sort itself out.

  Josie waved at her father as he and Dougal climbed into Griffs rental car. She'd offered to have her father stay in the croft back when he'd first arrived, even though she could only offer him a couch. Typically, he'd already found himself a place to stay before the fashion show had ended that first night in Roddy's pub. And hadn't that been an evening! She smiled in remembrance of Clud in his neon green-and-black body suit. But the capper of the evening had been Bidda in her bright pink-and-black neoprene. Where she'd found the bright yellow plastic flower she'd somehow adhered to the side of the hood, Josie didn't know. And wasn't sure she wanted to.

  But her dad had told her he was taking Dougal's spare bedroom. “We young bachelors prefer to hang together,” he'd told her with a grin.

  She'd teased Dougal about not initially offering her a place to stay, to which he'd blushed furiously and babbled something about it being unseemly for a young woman to stay with a man alone. If he only knew, she'd thought at the time, about Connal.

  But Dougal was obviously thrilled to host their newest guest, so she'd happily waved the two of them off when they'd left the pub that night, just as she did now.

  But as she closed the door behind her and turned to look at the croft, she wished she'd been more selfish and had begged
her father for some company.

  She didn't think she was up to facing another night alone, thinking about Connal. Wanting him. Bewildered at what to do about it.

  She'd gotten so desperate she'd even hoped for Bagan to show up, but apparently with all the islanders coming and going at all hours, he'd decided to remain out of sight.

  She sighed and climbed the stairs to the loft.

  She'd take a shower, then find something to eat, maybe dive into that romance novel she'd been surprised to discover on Gregor's shelves. The clouds had begun to roll in as their lessons had ended for the day. Apparently the storm that had been predicted was going to happen after all.

  Her father hadn't said anything about them leaving on the next ferry. In fact, he'd said nothing about leaving at all. He looked to be having quite the time here, so much so that she hadn't had a moment alone with him to ask him about the funeral, or what he was doing a half a world away while his business was left sitting. Well, with the storm coming, they'd have the time now since lessons would likely be called off for at least a day or two and the ferry grounded.

  She wanted to tell him about Connal. Ask him for advice. She laughed as she peeled out of her wet suit. Asking her father for relationship advice was like asking Jerry Springer for family counseling. Her laugh softened to a wistful sigh. He had loved her mother, though, so he did know something about it.

  She sank down on the edge of the bed. Surely she didn't think she actually loved Connal. She hadn't been with him long enough to have developed that depth of emotion for him. Had she? She'd always thought love was something that came about slowly, evolving over months and years of time spent together.

  And yet… when she thought about him, her heart raced. And her heart raced often these days. She found herself looking at the tower all the time, hoping for a glimpse of him. A crush, lust, that was what it was. After all, he was gorgeous, virile, great in bed…

  She sighed wistfully. He also had integrity and honor, he respected her and her wants and desires, despite the conflict with his own. He was loyal and determined.