The Charm Stone (17 page)

Bagan smiled merrily. “You could always go down and stop her.”

“I might do that very thing.” Connal scowled and kept his attentions on the croft. “Where did you go last night?” he murmured, willing her to reappear.

“She was with Roddy and Maeve.”

He swung about. “Ye knew of her whereabouts and didna come report them to me?”

Bagan looked at him as one might a thickheaded
child. “I am her guardian. Of course I know where she was.”

“And what of your responsibility to me?”

“I told ye she'd return and she did.” He slid down from his precarious perch and waddled across the room. “Were ye that concerned about her welfare?” He stopped and cocked a bushy white brow. “Or were ye more concerned with whose bed she might have been warmin’?”

Connal forced a laugh. “I never once gave that a thought.”
Liar.
He'd thought of little else, which was ridiculous and he knew it. “Considering the average number of years on the men of this island, I was hardly worried.”

Bagan's expression remained shrewd. “Aye, then what were ye so concerned about?”

Connal tightened his grip on his control. The dwarf could be maddening at times. Most times, he thought. “Her general welfare. Is it no’ so hard to believe? After all, she is the future mother of the next MacNeil.”

Bagan looked hurt. “I was with her, m'laird. No harm would have come to her.”

Connal merely lowered his gaze at him until he fidgeted and drew small circles on the dusty floor.

“In the future,” Connal stated evenly, “I want to be made aware of her whereabouts at all times? Do ye ken that, Sir Guardian?”

Bagan huffed. “There should be trust between a stone guardian and his—” At Connal's growl he hurriedly nodded, and said, “Aye, aye, I'll do my best.” He sidestepped toward the window. “In fact, I'll begin now by tellin’ ye she's heading for the water with her board. And she's no’ alone.”

Connal swung about. Jealousy had never once been spawned within his heart. He'd have to give said heart for that to happen, or so he'd always
thought. Yet, though it was still firmly his own to command, merely the idea that Josie was going to share her surfing experience with anyone but- He stopped in midthought. Surely he hadn't been about to wish himself onto one of those death traps she rode. Nay. But he wasn't keen on her offerin’ to teach anyone else either. He didn't understand her predilection for tempting the forces of nature so, but he already realized it was what she'd built her life upon, so therefore, something she held very dear. He paused again. Was it that
he
wanted to be the one with whom she shared the things dear to her heart?

Nonsense, he told himself, and stalked to the window. She was to serve one purpose, that of raising his son to manhood. It was good that the Fates had chosen someone witty, seemingly intelligent-other than her death wish on the waves-and no’ too hard on the eyes. It was pointless to consider whether he would have come to care for her, since his time with her was limited in any case.

All internal debate ceased the instant he spied her guests. Two men were following her down the sandy incline toward the pounding surf. They were each old enough to be her father, perhaps even her grandfather, nonetheless he felt his gaze narrow. Just what were they about?

A blanket was spread on the sand and the two men made themselves comfortable as Josie chatted quite amiably with them. She was smiling and gesturing to her board, then to the water, then back to her board. She laid it flat upon the sand, then lay on it herself, making a paddling motion with her hands, as if she were in the water. The two men clung to her every word and motion. As she was in her wave-hunting gear he understood their close attention… and didn't like it overly much, no matter their age.

He folded his arms and continued to watch her lesson, as it was clear now that's what this was.

Not once did she look up at the tower. In fact, to look at her, one would never suspect there was a night she'd spent here, in his very bed. He vowed then he'd have her there again, and soon. Perhaps it was the clearest way to seeing this done. But first there was the little matter of removing a final barricade.

“Bagan, now would be the time to search her belongings and—” He turned as he spoke, only to discover the imp had left him. “Bagan!” Nothing. He should have toppled him out the window when he had the chance, for all the good his guardianship was doing him. Hell, he had half a mind to blame his entire predicament on the little meddler.

He turned his attention back to the window, only he looked to the croft instead. Perhaps Bagan was, even now, taking advantage of Josie's absence. He wished he could be more optimistic, but as he had no other recourse, he ground his teeth and hoped for the best.

His gaze drifted to the old men. Gregor's cohorts most like. He wondered if she'd spoken to them, or anyone else, regarding his continued residence in the tower. He knew Gregor had likely told stories, but just as like no one believed the auld sot. What would the reaction be if
she
told them? And how would she explain her burgeoning belly once he'd planted his seed firmly within her?

It mattered little, he supposed, for it would all come to pass, regardless of what they thought. His son would grow into a man, bring life back to the island and with it prosperity and hope for its continued future. A future that would never have dimmed had his brothers not turned their backs on the stone. He knew history had laid the blame with him, with his dependence on the stone. He didn't care.

He wasn't doing this for his own greater glory, but finally to do for his people what he'd pledged to do when he'd become their laird. He had sold his soul for them. And history be damned for what it believed.

Josie's lithe body and animated expression pulled his attentions firmly back to the present. So, she would teach these old men her passion.

Passion. She'd managed to stir his.

His body tensed as he watched her… and he found himself devising a campaign. A strategy designed to realign her attentions to
his
passion. Namely, fulfilling destiny.

Only it wasn't destiny he thought of when she ran into the waves wearing that second piece of skin.

His heart pounded as she cheated death several times over. It took all of his willpower to stay put and not drag her from the waves… and straight into his bed. The gods be damned, but there was something primal about what she did out there on that water. The thundering inside him was not all fear for her safety.

He could tell himself his reluctance was because the old men were there, that he was not prepared to reveal himself to anyone but her. Or that the Fates would certainly not have brought her to him after all these long years, only to allow her to dash herself against the rocks.

But those rationales were not what kept him riveted to the scene below. His own blood surged as she pushed to a stand amidst a swirl of white foam and churning water. She was magnificent… and his blood sang with the need to conquer her, to make her his own, in a far more indelible way than merely planting his seed in her. He was a warrior born and raised, and he would not be satisfied with anything less than her total acquiescence to him.

He all but willed her to look up at him then, to make some sort of contact with him in that moment, something to confirm to him that they shared a bond that went beyond the boundaries of earth. A confirmation that she was, indeed, his, by not only the will of Fate, but by his will as well.

And, beyond that, he wanted to see evidence that he was not the only one filled with this raging need.

She pulled herself from the foam and climbed the beach with her board, without so much as a glance in his direction. Her attentions were focused exclusively on her pupils.

He narrowed his gaze and pushed away from the wall. “That, Josie mine, is about to change.”

Josie was tired, but not the blissful sort of fatigue that usually accompanied a morning spent on her board. The sets were coming in close and high, just the way she liked them. And it was as exhilarating as always to be out here, just her and her board, taming the wild water. But her attention was splintered.

Not just because Clud and Dougal watched from the shore. She'd thought inviting them over for a presurfing class had been inspired. In fact, she was planning on having any of the four of them over, Maeve, too, as often as possible. Hell, she'd give the whole damn island surfing lessons if it meant keeping Connal at a distance. At least, she assumed he wouldn't pop up as long as she had guests.

But he was taking a toll on her anyway. She was having a very hard time not looking toward the tower, wondering if he was watching her even now, and what he thought of her guests. Not that it mattered, she told herself. She was in charge of what she did, when she did it, and with whom.

So naturally all she could think about was doing it
with him. She sighed and dragged her feet through the undertow, onto the beach.

“Amazing!” Dougal called out. “Yer like a fairy sprite on that thing.”

They really were charming, all four of them. Of course, Old Bidda Stewart might not agree, she thought, smiling.

“Ye are a talent on the shortboard,” Clud added as she approached their blanket. “And an artist to boot.” He nodded to her board. “Is that one of yer own designs then?”

Josie turned it around and nodded as she gazed fondly at it, like the old, dear friend it was. “My dad designed the board. It's one he did a number of years ago. At one time this shape was used by half of the top ten surfers in the world,” she said proudly.

“Aye, aye, but 'tis the artwork we're talkin’ of,” Dougal insisted.

She looked at the design and her smile warmed further.

“There's a story to tell,” Dougal said. “I see it in yer eyes.” He patted the blanket. “Tell us the tale, Josie lass.”

“It's not all that exciting.” But she shrugged and sat on the corner of the blanket, glad to pull off her hood and shake her hair out. “Actually, I designed it as a little joke, albeit a time-consuming one. On my dad. It was for his sixtieth birthday.” She nodded at the board, which depicted her father sprawled like some
Cosmo
centerfold. “That's him, in his younger days. Although he'd be the first to tell you he's only gotten better with age.” She rolled her eyes, but both Dougal and Clud nodded quite seriously, as if this was a perfectly natural conclusion for any man to reach.

“I'm sure he was well proud of ye for going to the trouble,” Clud said earnestly.

Dougal nodded in agreement. “Quite an honor, immortalizin’ him that way.”

She laughed at that. “He certainly thought so. He paraded that thing around the beach for months. The ladies loved it, to be sure. But then Big Griff hasn't generally needed a billboard to help him in that department.”

Dougal and Clud shared a quick look.

“What?”

Dougal waved a hand. “Nothing, nothing. So, how did you come to have it?”

“You know, I don't actually recall. I rode it in a competition once and did pretty well. I guess I tended to take it out more and more after that, even though the technology and designs improved a great deal.” She laughed. “My dad says it's my way of walking all over him, even when I'm out on the water. Of course, even now, it's the only way that's going to happen. My dad is a natural.”

“With the waves and the ladies, it would seem,” Dougal said, almost reverently.

“To be sure.”

Dougal and Clud nodded, waited a respectful moment or so, then Clud nudged him and Dougal cleared his throat.

“Are ye really thinking of displayin’ us in a similar fashion?” Dougal finally asked.

Surprised, she looked from him to Clud, who was eyeing her board with an expression that fell somewhere between hope and horror.

She couldn't help it, she winked at him. “I think it would be a big seller, don't you? Yanks love anything Scottish. Especially Scotsmen.”

Clud blushed, but puffed his beefy chest out somewhat. Dougal waved off his display with a huff of disgust. “If yer wantin’ a real Scot, Josie, look no further.” He puffed his own rather thin chest out
for her and gave her a gander at his biceps. It wasn't too bad, actually, but she really wished she'd resisted the temptation to tease them. She should have known better.

“Impressive,” she told Dougal, laughing out loud when he smiled smugly at Clud. She climbed to her feet. Best to nip this in the bud right now. “I hope you enjoyed what you learned today.”

“ Tis all a right bit more complicated than we supposed, what with ocean currents and wind direction and all. Ye've given us something to think on, for certain.”

She nodded at Dougal. “Hopefully Roddy and Gavin can make it out later this afternoon.” Maybe they'd all realize this was no walk in the park and put an end to their latest fascination. She picked up her board again, resisted the urge to look up at the tower again, and heard herself ask, “Would you care to come in for some tea?”

Both men hurriedly got to their feet, brushed off the sand, and folded up their blanket. “Why, don't mind if we do,” Clud said.

“Here, allow me,” Dougal offered, taking her board. He only dipped a little under the weight, but recovered impressively.