The Charm Stone (33 page)

And then there was the possibility that she was carrying his child. A child he'd wanted raised here. She'd managed to shove all that from her mind, but it was growing harder to do each day. She'd have to see a doctor, get vitamins or whatever. Deal with it, face it.

She helped everyone pack up and made arrangements to meet Bidda at her place to go over the final draft of the art for her board. They'd compromised and Josie had done her own takeoff of the hero from one of the more passionate-looking romance novel covers in Gregor's collection. Thank God Bidda had finally agreed to let her clothe the guy.

She waved them good-bye then turned back to the croft. But instead of going inside, she picked up her board and headed back to the beach. She needed some one-on-one time in the water. The swells were hardly worth riding, so there was little danger of her hurting herself.

Or the baby.

She blocked the thought and paddled out.

But the waves weren't doing their job. The tower
loomed too large and dark over her shoulder today. The distraction finally drove her out of the water altogether and she headed back inside.

She showered, tried to eat, but her stomach was a bit off. Part of her wondered if this was the beginning of morning sickness-despite the fact that it was late afternoon-but she was pretty sure it was leftover nerves from watching Bidda paddle out to sea.

She opted for a bath instead and grabbed the book she'd been reading from the table by the couch. A mystery novel this time. Gregor's romance collection was simply too painful to contemplate. The last thing she felt like doing was reading about someone else's happily ever after.

When she stripped down to get in the tub, however, whatever happily ever after she might have still had left in her was stripped off right along with her clothes.

Her stomach wasn't off because of morning sickness. Or Bidda risking life and formidable limbs. It had been cramps. She was having her period.

Josie simply stared at the incontrovertible proof, her emotions in turmoil, the rest of her in shock. Undeniably, there was a part of her that was relieved that she wasn't pregnant. So why was she crying?

And she was. Little gulps that turned into silent sobs, which grew stronger, and louder as she climbed in the shower and stood numbly beneath the spray. She could barely see and her chest was heaving as she dressed and stumbled back to the bedroom. She found Connal's shirt and buried her face in it, sinking to the floor beside her bed. “I'm sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I'm so sorry.”

She couldn't get beyond it, couldn't form a single thought. She merely hugged the shirt to her, rocked herself, and let the grief wash through her until she was completely wrung out.

When the tears finally stopped, she rested her head on her bent knees and tried to get her shuddering breaths under control so she could put her thoughts in order.

She hadn't wanted a baby. Wasn't remotely ready for one, much less the explanations that would have had to come with it. And yet… it had been her last chance at carrying a part of him with her forever. For that, she grieved.

She lifted her head and stared, unseeing, as another realization came to her. “Then why did you leave me?”

As that thought sank in, her entire body went cold. If she hadn't been pregnant, then why had Connal disappeared?

“I think I can help ye with that.”

Josie choked on a scream and scrambled to her feet, clutching Connal's shirt to her chest as she whirled to face the owner of that voice. A voice she hadn't heard since before Connal's disappearance. A voice she'd been reduced to begging for in the darkest hours of the night.

“Bagan.”

He sat in the chair by the bed, his own expression easily as ravaged as her own.

“Aye, lass. Tis me.” He slid from the chair. “I've come to explain.”

And just like that Josie's emotions veered from deep, freezing grief to blazing, volcanic temper. She tossed Connal's shirt on the bed and stalked over to him. “Well, it's about damn time!”

N
ot in here,” Josie decided abruptly, when he started to talk. If her emotions had been in tatters moments before, they were completely beyond piecing together now. “Downstairs.”

She waved an arm and he scuttled ahead of her, apparently thinking better of popping out of her sight.

Once downstairs, Bagan walked to the window. Josie sat on the edge of the couch, but staying still proved impossible. She stalked to the kitchen and began making tea. Anything to keep her hands from going where they longed to. Which was around Bagan's neck. Though he'd yet to tell her a thing, it was obvious just looking at him that he'd been at least partly responsible for the agony she'd put herself through these past weeks.

He cleared his throat, then did so again when she slammed the mugs on the counter.

“Go on,” she ordered him, still unable to make herself even look at him. “Start at the beginning.”

“I'd counseled him,” Bagan said. “Repeatedly. Told him it was no’ about the bairn, but what was in his heart.”

Josie's hands stilled with the tea
egg
only half filled. When he said nothing more, she said, less tersely this time, “Go on.”

“He thought it was part of the bargain he'd made, but I'd given it much thought and knew the gods had granted him only the promise of the stone.”

She turned then, forgetting all about the tea. “Which was what?”

Bagan stared at her, then simply said, “Love.”

Love. But she had come to love him. And she thought he'd come to love her. “I think we were figuring that out.”

Pain filled Bagan's cherub face and his lips twisted downward. He looked down to his hands, which were tightly fisted. “I know that now.”

“What did you do, Bagan?” she demanded quietly.

He looked up at her, tears swimming in his great blue eyes. “He kept insistin’ the stone's promise of hope could only be a bairn, that he'd proven his faith to the gods and they'd allowed him to stay on to reap that final reward.”

“But you'd come to believe differently.”

He nodded, sniffling. “I thought back to what the stone had brought to those who had possessed it, followed its guidance. And that was love.”

“You're the guardian of the thing and yet you didn't already know this?”

His small hands flailed, then covered his face as he dipped his chin. “It's always worked before,” he said hoarsely. “I've never had to question its exact powers, only oversee its unions. Which have all borne fruit, but only because—”

“So what did you do with it?” she asked, remembering with a chill that the trunk had been open and empty when she'd found it.

“I simply thought that if it wasna there between you, if he knew its promise had been fulfilled merely by bringing ye to him, he'd move past the nonsense
of the bairn and see what was plainly before his own eyes.”

Josie was trembling now. “What did you do with it?” she repeated.

Bagan s voice shook, his expression beseeching her understanding. “I tossed the stone in the sea.”

Josie's eyes popped wide. “You did what?” she shouted.

Bagan blanched. “I know, I should hae thought my actions through more clearly. I knew I would no longer be here to guard over ye, that I was flinging my own self to sea along with the stone. But I thought it was a worthy sacrifice to what I knew you and Connal would have.”

“What? What would we have?” She tunneled her fingers into her hair, tempted to go ahead and rip it out, then let her hands drop to her sides. “What are you trying to say?”

“I thought he would see that the stone had done its duty, that his destiny and the hope he had for Glenmuir was fulfilled in you. He had only to give you his heart to prove himself.” Tears slipped down his face now. “Ye were so close. So close.” He crossed the room, taking her cold, fisted hands in his own stubbier ones. “Josie, lass, I didna know. I swear it. I wouldna hae done it if I'd known.”

Josie tugged her hands free and tried to make sense of it all. “I understand why you disappeared with the stone. But why Connal, too? He didn't do it.”

“Och, that's the worst of it. I've angered the gods so. They'd agreed to allow him to remain here until the stone was delivered, until he'd proven himself, naught to them, but to himself. When I threw it back to sea, they felt their bargain had been tossed back with it. He'd failed in their eyes. And they—” His voice broke on a sob. “They called Connal home.”

Josie stared at him, but said nothing. Then she
turned abruptly and headed for the front door. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew she had to get out of there, had to move, to breathe, to think. The only thing she didn't want to do was feel. And that was impossible when she looked at Bagan.

“Wait!” he called after her. “I canno’ come but only once. Please hear me out.”

She whirled on him then. “What else is there to say? You screwed up. Again. Only this time everybody paid.” She didn't care that she was hurting him. She wanted to inflict the same pain he'd given her, no matter that his motives had been pure. She ignored his flinch and faced him down. “I don't ever want to see you again. Why are you even here? It's not you I wanted to see. Why did they send you?” Even she heard the pained edge of hysteria in her voice and knew she had to get out now, or she'd only say more things she'd regret.

“It was my mistake,” Bagan said. “They weren't going to let me come and explain, but I made them see that you shouldn't be hurt for what I'd done.”

She laughed harshly at that. “A little too late for that now, isn't it?”

“Josie, lass—”

“And what about Connal? Wasn't he hurt?” The instant she asked she wished she hadn't.

Bagan's remaining composure crumpled. “Aye,” he said roughly, tears now filling his throat. “He cast me off for good. I dinna blame him. I failed him in the worst way possible. I am no’ fit to be guardian of anything.” Tears coursed down his cheeks. “I had only thought to protect his heart. I didna want him to toss it aside. It was the one valuable thing he had to offer. No’ the stone.” He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. “I didna mean to ruin it all. I didna mean to.” Whatever else he might have said was lost in his tears.

Even with the anger and pain filling her, she couldn't harden her heart enough not to respond to his anguish. She understood it all too well herself. Slowly, she made herself cross the room toward him, finally reaching out a shaky hand and touching his shoulder.

He jerked his head up, his eyes more red than blue now. “I know ye can never forgive me. But please dinna hate Connal for what I did. That is why I came back most of all. He was as innocent in this as you were.”

“I don't hate him,” she said, then sighed heavily, suddenly too tired to fight any longer. “And I don't hate you.”

Bagan shocked her by throwing his arms about her thighs and burying his face in her hip. “I dinna deserve yer forgiveness.”

She patted him awkwardly, then gently pried him loose. “It wouldn't have made any difference, would it?” she asked, realizing the truth of it as she said it. “I mean, even if you hadn't interfered, what good would it have done for us to fall in love?”

He just blinked up at her as if she'd gone daft. “Why, it would have changed everything.”

She shook her head. “It would have just been more painful when the time came for him to go. Bagan, I did-do-love him. I'm not saying what you did was right, but maybe it was better to end things sooner rather than later.” She shook her head. “I don't know where it would have led, but it could only have been worse in the long run.” She looked at him. “What could we have truly ever had together?”

“Ye could have had everything,” Bagan whispered.

Josie knelt in front of him, all her anger, all her grief, gone. Or maybe she was simply too numb to feel anything anymore. “I'm sorry for all of the pain
we've been put through. But please make sure he knows I'll never regret one moment of the time I spent with him. If you can do that for me, I'll be indebted to you forever.”

Tears welled up again and he could only nod.

“And tell him—” She broke off as her own throat closed over. “Tell him I'm sorry. About the baby. He waited so long… I didn't want him to fail, it was just—” She couldn't finish.

“It was never about the bairn. Only I didna know he'd come to realize that himself.” Now it was Bagan's turn to offer solace. “If it's any comfort to ye, he wasna angry about the bargain being lost. He was only angry at being taken from ye.”

Josie's heart did a ridiculous and painful flip inside her chest. “Thank you,” she said, standing up again. “Thank you for that.”

Bagan nodded miserably. “I only wish it were more.” Then he shook his head, and murmured, “If only he'd told ye.”

“What?” Josie asked.

But Bagan was no longer standing in front of her.

She whirled around. “Told me what?” she shouted. But she knew there would be no answer. “Dammit!” She curled her fingers against the urge to throw something. “Damn him for always doing that to me.” She raked her fingers through her hair and tried to get herself under control. “Can't even apologize without raking up something else to torture me with.” The kettle she'd put on whistled just then, making her jump. She swore as loudly and creatively as she could as she stormed back to the kitchen. “Should have never picked up that stupid trunk,” she muttered.

But as she dumped the water down the drain and tossed the tea, silver
egg
and all, into the trash, she knew she didn't mean it. Emotional roller coaster
and murderous feelings aside, she'd meant what she said.

She didn't regret one minute of the time she'd spent with Connal.