The Charm Stone (24 page)

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 different 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.”

He shot her a look. “Yell do well to take yer victory without gloating.”

She made a face and sketched a bow, awkward as it was with him all but dragging her down the beach. “Aye, my lord. Anything you say, my lord.”

He said nothing as she fell into step beside him. After a while, she wove her fingers through his. When he looked down at her, she simply smiled up at him, then turned her attention back to the sand. No, he'd certainly never experienced anything like her.

Perhaps there was something to this “having fun” after all, though the joy in collecting flotsam still eluded him. But he left his hand joined to hers as they continued their hunt.

T
he suits'll be here on the next ferry. They guaranteed it.” Dougal's eyes gleamed with excitement as he told Josie the news.

The ferry. Her one means of escape. Funny how she'd forgotten all about that. “When will that be?” she asked, leaning her bike against the wall outside Maeve's store. She'd promised to stay and teach them to surf and she would keep her promise. That was all it was.
Liar.

“Two days from now.”

“And the next one after that?”

Dougal's smile faded a bit, but he squared his shoulders and tried to maintain the enthusiasm he'd shown only moments before. “That's the thing, Josie. They're predictin’ another storm by week's end and so.

“And so?” she prompted when his gaze drifted down to his feet.

“Like as not it'll be delayed again.” He looked back up at her, hurrying on. “But that will give us a chance to test out some bigger waves, aye? With our instructor still here to guide us.”

“I still can't believe you guys are going to all this trouble and expense on a lark. What if you hate surfing?”

He shrugged, that charming glint in his eye. “I suppose we go back to sheep hoisting.”

They both laughed, then Josie said, “Still, Dougal, I—”

“Och, dinna worry so about the whims of old men, lass. We know what we're about.” He took her hand in his bony, but surprisingly strong ones. “We're all so very grateful to ye for staying on. I know 'tis a lot to ask of ye, but you're making the bunch of us verra happy, Josie.” He grinned again and pumped his fist. “We're stoked.”

That made her laugh again. “Stoked, huh. You've been on the Internet again, haven't you?”

“Aye,” he nodded proudly. “We're hopin’ to rip the back end wide open we are.”

She stifled a sigh, then shook her head. Charming indeed. There was no way she could change her mind, and truth be told, she didn't want to. She'd never seen such enthusiastic and willing pupils, and despite their age and fragile bones, she thought their determination alone would see them go the distance. So she'd be stuck on the island another week or so. Somehow she wasn't as upset by the notion as she would have been a day earlier.

She smiled to herself. Connal never had quite gotten the hang or even general principle of shell collecting, but he'd tried… or put up with her making him try, and that had meant a lot to her. Enough that she'd woken up this morning sort of hoping to see him. Instead she'd woken to smoke filling the kitchen and had a nice burned breakfast compliments of Chef Bagan.

Connal had disappeared after their shell hunt, he'd been strangely subdued on their walk back and hadn't popped up again all day. She'd found herself looking often toward the tower during her surf
lessons that afternoon, but there'd been no sign of him. She hadn't felt him watching her either. It had been oddly disappointing. She'd intended to question Bagan when she got back to the croft after her lessons were finished, but he'd been scarce as well, until this morning's breakfast fiasco.

When Connal hadn't shown up during this morning's beachcombing walk, she'd decided he'd figured she wasn't worth the trouble of being around, seeing as he couldn't seduce her into bed. It was insulting and more than a bit hurtful to have to face the fact that that was still all she was to him. After their beach walk, she'd sort of thought, maybe, it was more than that. That maybe they could actually be friends as well as lovers.

She'd decided to get out of there for a while and take the bike into town. It was a gorgeous day, bright sunshine and the wind was balmy. She'd marveled again at the stark beauty of Glenmuir, thinking she'd never tire of seeing its green hills and heather carpets. She also marveled that her backside had apparently become seasoned, because it was barely numb after the jarring ride.

“I'll go tell the boys yer here,” Dougal said. “Are ye coming in for an ale?”

“I've got to see Maeve first, then I'll be over. I need to work out a deal with Roddy.”