The Charm Stone (19 page)

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 about 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.

“Charm stones were no’ so unique in that time, however the special gifts attributed to this particular stone were detailed to Ranulf with great care and caution. So taken was he with Mairead that he didna doubt her powers, nor those of the stone.”

“I suppose having you pop up was rather a strong reason to believe, huh?”

Bagan nodded, oblivious to the gentle teasing note in her voice. “But that was only part of it. Ran-ulf was a man who believed in defending his own with power, might. Loss of life amongst his clansmen was not only accepted as a way of life, it was anticipated, calculated. However, his possession of the stone changed that. He quickly learned that the stone did indeed fulfill its promise. His love for his wife changed him and when they had a son—”

“Connal's grandfather?”

“Aye, Domhnall. When he came into the world soon after their union, Ranulf was a changed man, wanting do what he must to preserve life, rather than cast it so quickly into battle. He learned the powers of strategy and politics as means to gain what he wanted, resorting to war games only when necessary. The clan did prosper and all believed in the stone's promise from then on.

“His son, Domhnall, was raised with this knowledge. His wife, Rowena, was chosen with the stone. His heart was hers and together they saw the clan's prosperity continue. Domhnall and Rowena had several daughters, then a son. Connal's father, Alasdair. He married Eilidh, the stone's choice and that of his heart as well. Connal and his brothers were raised to revere the stone and its powers.”

“He had brothers?”

“Aye. Two older, two younger.”

“Then how was he clan chief?”

“His oldest brother, Ramsey, was somewhat the headstrong renegade. He had left the island to be educated on the mainland. He returned when Alasdair passed on, to claim his rightful place as MacNeil laird, but he was filled with notions that his family was heretical for their beliefs in ancient Druid ways. He cast the stone aside and made his own decisions, which was the beginning of the downfall of the

Glenmuir MacNeils. He abandoned the strategy and political mediation that had kept the island peaceful. Greedy to expand their wealth, he took up the sword and the shield once again and led the MacNeils back into bloody battle.”

Bagan fell silent and Josie didn't know what to say. He painted a vivid picture, that sitting here, on the very land where it had taken place… it was as if she could feel the clash and clang of battle resonating in the misty sea air around her.

“What happened then? How did Connal become the chief?”

Bagan smiled briefly, clearly pleased by her curiosity, then his expression tightened as he resumed the story. “Ramsey fell in battle quickly. He'd never married, nor sired any children. So the next in line, Edmund, became laird. Edmund was quite close to his brother and he too shunned their mother's desperate urgings to return to the beliefs that had brought them so much happiness. Eilidh kept Connal close to her, even as her younger sons took up arms with Edmund and headed into battle.”

“Connal was a mama's boy?” She shook her head. “I'm having a hard time with that picture.”

Bagan stared hard at her, not at all amused by her input. “With Edmund and his youngers off warring, he was the only one with the sense to remain behind to defend Winterhaven. Connal had always held to his parents’ beliefs, much to the chagrin and very public tongue-lashings of his older brothers.” His expression changed from fierce to empty in the blink of an eye.

Josie found herself holding her breath. Finally, she could stand it no more. “What happened?”

He looked at her, immeasurable sadness in his eyes. “War claimed them all, with naught to show for it but the decimation of most of the clansmen along
with them. Connal was left as chief to a clan made up of women, children, and aged men. Hardly the legacy his father, and the fathers before him, had dedicated their lives to building. His guilt knew no bounds.”

“But he wasn't to blame! It was his brothers’—”

“He was The MacNeil,” Bagan said quietly. “All responsibilities were laid onto his shoulders and he took the mantle without question. With that mantle came the responsibility for the desperate times the clan had fallen on. He wasn't much more than a lad then, and took his role very seriously. Stronger clans were gathering their strength, preparing to take Glenmuir and what was left of its prosperous fields and farms. He had no warriors, no might, no armor. He had only one thing, and it was the one thing he'd been raised to believe in.”

“The stone.”

“Aye. He'd seen firsthand, suffered firsthand, the consequences of no’ following the ways of his ancestors. So he did what he believed best. He sent the stone away—”

“To Elsinor.”

Bagan nodded. “She was betrothed to Connal by Ramsey when the stone's legacy had been cast aside. The MacLeods would have been a powerful alliance. But with the MacNeils’ downfall, the MacLeods broke the betrothal. Connal had me take it to her anyway, praying the legacy and promise of the stone would sway Elsinor. It was all he had to offer and his clan's one chance for survival.”

Josie tried to imagine the decisions he had to make, the crushing obligations thrust on him. “How impossibly difficult that must have been for him.”