The Charm Stone (25 page)

Dougal's expression clouded. “Deal?”

“Don't worry, it's not about the surfing. But if I'm going to be here that much longer, I'm going to need to use his scanner and Internet connection on occasion to send my work back home.”

“You've been designing?” His face split wide. “Is it our board then? The one ye were talkin’ about?”

She couldn't hide her grin. He really was simply too adorable. “Well, not exactly.” Although she had
done some preliminary sketches. But she wasn't ready to show them yet. “I've actually got several ideas started, but I need to get some input from my father, see what he thinks.”

Dougal nodded. “Aye then, I'm certain Roddy can be accommodatin’ of that for ye.” He leaned in and winked, “We're all a bit anxious. Ye'll have to forgive us. This is the most fun we've had since—”

“Old Bidda Stewart's sheep?”

“Aye, I believe this ranks right up there. Possibly surpasses it.” Nodding happily as he reflected on it, he tipped his hat and disappeared into the pub.

Josie shook her head, no longer bothering to wonder how she'd gotten caught up in this. She had a definite soft spot in her heart for all of them. It would be hard to leave them after all this, she thought, then shook her head and laughed. She'd probably find them posting on some surfing bulletin board online. Who knows, they might even start a cult following and get other surfers out here to their beach. Nothing would surprise her with that crew.

She pushed into the store and waited for Maeve to come out from the back.

“So nice to see you, Josie,” she said with a bright smile. “What can I do for ye?”

“I guess you heard about the gear coming in.” She expected Maeve to roll her eyes and snort, so she was surprised when she nodded avidly, a conspiratorial gleam entering her eyes as she leaned over the counter.

“Oh aye, that I have. What the men don't know is that I went on Roddy's computer and sort of added to their order a bit.”

Josie raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Oh, indeed.” She pulled a piece of folded computer paper from her apron. “I've been wantin’ to
show ye this.” She unfolded it and laid it on the counter. “What do you think? Too flash?”

Josie looked at the bright blue-and-yellow neo-prene suit Maeve had picked out for herself and swallowed hard. “Um, no, no, not at all.” She looked up and smiled. “The blue will bring out your eyes.”

Maeve flushed with pleasure. “I've been hopin to catch you. I was going to drive out later today and ask about getting a private lesson or two.” She hurried on as she folded the paper once again and carefully put it back in her apron. “I know you're busy here, what with your work and the boys comin’ by, but…” She finally trailed off and gave Josie a lift of her shoulders and a hopeful look.

“You're serious?”

She nodded. “The boys shouldn't have all the fun, now, should they?”

Josie simply gave up and nodded. “I'd be glad to work with you.” She grinned. “After all, we women surfers have to stick together in this sport.”

Maeve's face broke into a wide grin. “Aye,” she said with a relieved laugh. “Aye, that we do.” She darted a gaze to her hands, which were fiddling with the hem of her apron, then glanced nervously back to Josie. “I don't suppose ye'd be willin’ to take on maybe another student or… or two. Posey Sutherland and Bidda Stewart were thinkin’ they'd like to see what the fuss is all about.” Her eyes twinkled even as her cheeks flushed. “Yer lessons have become quite the talk of the island.”

Josie swallowed hard. “Really?”

“Oh aye. Yer almost a celebrity, especially staying out on the coast road, all reclusive.” She leaned forward, “Lends an air of mystery to ye, ye know.” She laughed. “Shame it never did the same for old Gregor.”

Josie laughed lightly, a bit stunned by this news. She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if anyone had happened to drive down to see her when she and Connal had been frolicking in the waves. She frowned then, wondering if anyone but she could see him. They'd have thought her more a loony than a celebrity if they'd seen her splashing about and talking to no one.

Maeve's smile faded. “Yer no’ angry with me, are ye?”

Josie smiled immediately, even if her thoughts were still a bit confused on the whole matter. “No, no, not at all. Like I said, we women have to stick together. By all means bring them by if they want to come.” Then she realized and said, “Did you say Bidda Stewart? Is she—”

“Aye, that's the one.” Maeve's face was flushed with pleasure. “Just imagining the looks on the boys’ faces is all she talks about.” She spun about. “Oh, this is the best news!” Josie thought she might do a little jig right then and there. She flashed her a twinkling smile. “Ye've brought spark to this place, Josie, that ye have.”

Now it was Josie's turn to flush. “I really don't want to disappoint anyone, I'm just—”

“Just be yourself, lass. I'm no’ trying to embarrass ye. I only wanted ye to know we've come to enjoy yer sunny smile. Perhaps it's the spirit of youth transforming us all.” Before Josie could respond to that, she winked and said, “So, what can I get you?”

Maeve's heartfelt enthusiasm was a bit overwhelming, but there was no denying it made her feel good. “Since I'll be staying on a bit longer, I need to get some more supplies for my pantry.” She didn't mention that Bagan had gone through most of what she'd already bought. How a man could ruin not one can of soup, but six of them, and so badly, she didn't know, but the dwarf had managed it. And that
had been after losing all the eggs. She'd kindly, but firmly, barred him from the kitchen from then on.

“Not a problem,” Maeve was saying, “you just load up what you need and I'll drive it around when I come later.”

“Great. Thanks.” Josie took the basket Maeve handed her, then paused. “Um, there is one other thing. I need to have a prescription filled. How do you go about doing that here?”

Concern filled Maeve's face. “Are ye feeling poorly? Have ye been ill?”

“Oh no, no. Nothing like that. I, um, it's not—” She gave up and just spit it out. “It's for birth control pills.”

Maeve looked momentarily nonplussed, then smiled, apparently relieved it was nothing serious. “We have an apothecary on the island. Old Drummond, though he's usually out fishing this time of day. But he doesna have that sort of thing in stock, I'm certain.” She smiled ruefully. “I dinna think there are any ladies left on Glenmuir who have to worry about such a thing any longer.” She paused and sort of sighed, then shook it off and smiled again. “I'm certain we can fax the information over to Dunegan's on the mainland and get him to include it in our next parcel post. I'll have Clive make certain it gets to the ferry. He's a good one, Clive.”

Josie sighed in relief and said a silent prayer of thanks to Clive. “Thanks.”

Maeve winked. “We women surfers have to stick together. I'll see that it gets done while ye do your shopping.”

Josie finished up and went to Roddy's next, where she made a call to the car rental place to extend her rental-which the boys overheard and promptly demanded to help her pay for, despite her assurances that it wasn't necessary-then had a talk with Roddy
about using his computer to e-mail her father. A glass of lemonade and a hearty bowl of stew later and she was back on her bike, smiling and actually looking forward to Maeve and her friends coming for their first lesson later on.

It was amazing how quickly she'd become a part of island life, and how fond she'd grown of the place. She found herself wishing Connal had simply been some sort of reclusive Scot she'd met while on holiday and decided to have a wild fling with. In that case, this would have been the perfect vacation. And she wouldn't find herself brooding over him, she thought, then shook off the thought and laughed at the idea of fitting Bagan into her simple vacation scenario.

“The odd, but endearing sidekick,” she murmured, then smiled and shook her head at her fantasies as she bumped over the last part of the path leading to the croft. Apparently her butt had only toughened up enough for a one-way journey as she began envisioning in great detail the warm bath she'd be taking this evening.

The tower loomed ahead as she rounded the last bend. She tried not to look at it as she pedaled toward the driveway, but couldn't prevent one little glimpse to see if there was any movement in the tower. She scolded herself for being disappointed to find the portals dark. There was no dark-cloaked figure striding up the beach either.

“Of course, why should he bother since he knows he can't get laid,” she muttered harshly as she turned to let herself into the cottage. Mad at herself for still harboring hurt feelings when she shouldn't care one whit about him, she almost tripped over the basket someone had set on the porch stairs. “Bagan,” she muttered under her breath as she managed to hop past it without falling and breaking a leg or an arm,

“one of these days, buddy, one of these days. Pow, straight to the moon.”

She half expected the imp to show up and gently worm his way back into her good graces and was only partially relieved when he didn't. She turned to look at the basket, wondering why in the hell he'd put it there, then stilled completely.

Her throat tightened a bit. “Shells,” she whispered, then knelt by the basket, only wincing slightly at the ache of protest in her backside. She picked up first one, then another. There was a jumble of them, all shapes and sizes, some whole, some only in parts. She felt the pressure build behind her eyes as she looked again toward the tower. It was still dark and there was no sign of him.

She looked back to the basket of shells and let out a long, slow breath. Had he really gone shell hunting for her? She sorted through the pile again, immensely touched even though she tried to tell herself she shouldn't be. Hadn't she just gotten done telling herself he was a sexist pig jerk out for only one thing? So what if it was a three-hundred-year-old bargain made with the gods and not just about getting his rocks off? And so what if physical gratification was all she'd hoped to get out of the deal? Didn't that make her a sexist pig jerk, too?

“That's different,” she mumbled, knowing it was nothing of the sort. She sighed again. She'd already admitted it had turned into something more for her. But what? Friendship? It wasn't as if she could have a future with him. Looking at his peace offering, had she really believed she could befriend him and leave the physical part of their relationship behind? Had she really believed he'd accept that? That she could?

She scooped up the basket and headed inside. Only
to be shocked again. The croft smelled of jasmine, and candlelight flickered from the second floor.

This time her eyes narrowed and she didn't feel that short wash of pleasure over her skin. “So this isn't a token of friendship,” she said out loud. “It's a seduction.” She sighed and set the basket down, trying not to be disappointed. Would she ever learn? “Well, you should have saved yourself the trouble,” she called up the stairs. “I already told you I'm off the seduction list for a few days. And after that I'm simply not interested.” It was a total lie. Even though she was miffed that he thought he could just come in here, set the scene, and get her to fall gratefully into bed with him again, there was a part of her that wanted to do exactly that.

“Yeah, the part that's gotten addicted to screaming orgasms,” she muttered. “Well, you're just going to have to get over it,” she told herself. To him, she called out, “I'm not coming up there, so you might as well put the candles and yourself out.”

Nothing. Not a sound, not a word.

“Fine.” She was hungry, starved even, so she went to the kitchen to see if there was anything left to eat since she'd left all her groceries with Maeve. She had some crackers and a bite of cheese, pretending she didn't remotely care that there was probably a naked man waiting for her upstairs. He was going to grow old waiting, she decided, then shook her head. One thing Connal could never do was grow old.

Which, when she thought about it, had its upside. Imagine a lover who never aged, she found herself thinking, her body reacting favorably to the suggestion. “Oh for heaven's sake.” She slammed the cheese down, as disgusted with herself as she was with him, and marched up the stairs, determined to put an end to this whole thing right now.

Only he wasn't up there. And looking at her bed, it appeared he'd never been up there. It was still the same tangle of sheets and mushed-up pillows she'd left this morning. She spun around, looking for the source of the flickering candlelight, only to discover it was coming from the tiny bathroom.

“A ha! The old ‘take her in the shower’ trick. And apparently it's a really old trick if they were trying that even in your day. Why am I not surprised?” She stalked into the bathroom… only to find it empty as well. “Humph.” She didn't know what to think. Several candles were grouped on the edge of the sink, another one or two occupied the narrow shelf that hung on the wall just above the tub. The tub was an old claw foot, deep and narrow, and presently filled with water. She tested it. Warm. Perfectly so.

She dried her hand on her shorts, totally stumped now. Had Bagan done this? She snorted. No way. The croft would have burned to cinders by now. Or flooded.

She sat down on the toilet seat lid and simply stared at the whole display. “What does this mean?”

Then she saw the note. It was a sheet of what looked like heavy vellum. She picked it up and realized it had been torn from her sketchbook. He'd looked through her sketchbook? Warmth that had nothing to do with the steamy air flushed her cheeks. She'd done more than sketch Dougal and gang in her book. She might have done, oh, one or two little sketches of Bagan. And maybe a few more than that of Connal. What had he thought of them?

Hell, she didn't even know how she felt about them.

She unfolded the paper to find several lines of dark, slashing script. Some of the letters were oddly formed, so it took her several tries to decipher it.

The water is to soak in. How ye survive riding that contraption of Gregors I'll never know.

Then there were several words that had been scratched out, followed by: