The Charm Stone (35 page)

Then, before fresh tears could spring to life, something she'd managed to avoid this far, she jumped out of the car and walked closer to the water's edge.

She saw three men standing on the prow of the ship, above the unloading area. One stood apart from the others. Had Tuck and Freddie made it after all? she wondered.

But as the boat neared, she could see that one man was Griff, and if she was not mistaken, that was in fact Freddie standing next to him. But the other man…

The ferry drew closer and her heart slowly came to a stop. She was hallucinating. Her talk with Connal in the car had produced some kind of momentary psychotic wish fulfillment. Because she could swear that was Connal, standing on the prow of the ferry.

She blinked, squinted, shaded her eyes. It was still him. His hair was pulled back, and he wore what looked like khakis and a polo shirt instead of a kilt and laced-up linen shirt. But it was definitely Connal MacNeil.

“Or someone who looks just like him,” she murmured, standing there in a form of suspended animation. She was simply unable to believe what she was seeing, unwilling to allow even one glimmer of hope to spring to life inside her chest. For she knew she'd never withstand having it snuffed out again.

Then they disappeared from the prow as the boat docked and moments later there was her father, swallowing her up in a huge bear hug. “Look who I brought with me” Griff was saying, stepping back to allow Freddie in to hug her.

“We've missed you,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

“Me-me, too,” she answered, trying to give her father and Freddie her full attention, but unable to keep from darting looks past their shoulders.

Griff noticed and looked behind him, shifting slightly… and suddenly there he stood. Right there. Not ten feet away.

Josie couldn't breathe, much less speak.

“Have you met?” Griff asked, looking confused. “We met this chap on the boat, with his friend. Says he's come to claim some land left to him by his ancestors.” He stuck his hand out and said, “What was your name again, son, I'm sorry.”

But the man only had eyes for Josie. Eyes she'd seen every night in her dreams.

“Connal,” he murmured, almost distractedly, his gaze focused so intently on her. “Connal MacNeil.” His voice almost brought her to her knees.

“Everyone calls me Griff,” her father said, shaking Connal's hand, before turning to Josie. “This is my daughter, Josie Griffin.”

She opened her mouth, but no words would come out. The whole scene was so surreal she was certain she was dreaming the entire episode. And she didn't want to do anything that might jar her out of it. Because right now it felt very damn real and that was all that mattered.

Griff looked at Josie, then back at Connal. Josie had no idea what he thought of the two of them standing there, looking thunderstruck, but couldn't seem to make herself care at the moment.

Griff finally winked and nudged Freddie. “Well, I think we should just make ourselves scarce here, huh?”

“What?” Freddie asked, also staring with great interest at the two of them. “Oh, yeah.” He winked back at Griff. “Right, right. Come on, I'll help you with the car.”

The two of them disappeared back onto the ferry, leaving her here with…

“You look just like him,” she finally choked out. Because in the span of the last five seconds, she'd finally figured it out. The gods were giving her a gift, for what she was doing for Glenmuir. They were giving her Connal's great-great-great…whatever. Well, no matter how simply looking at him made her body ache, he wasn't
her
Connal. “I'm sorry to keep staring, it's just that—”

Then he took a step forward. “Josie.”

She stilled again, her breath caught in her throat. No man said her name that way, except for one. “Connal?” she whispered. “Is this really you?”

“You were, perhaps, expecting someone else?” His eyes were searching hers, his expression almost fierce despite the forced humor in his tone.

“I thought… my father said you were here to see land belonging to your ancestors.”

“Aye, that is true. It has been in the possession of the MacNeils for centuries longer than I've been alive.” He stepped closer still. “Or dead.”

“But—” Her heart began thundering then, until she thought it would simply burst from her chest. Yet, despite the overwhelming urge to fling herself at him, cling to him until forcibly removed from his arms… she stepped back, though putting even an inch more space between them took every scrap of control she had. “How? And… why?”

“It was you who did it,” he said, dead earnest now. “Your commitment to me. To our future.”

“Our—” Her voice was shaking badly now.
“Our
future?”

He nodded. “The gods told me that I had naught to prove to them, only to myself. I didna understand, thinking that by proof they meant to prove my faith in the stone. Once I had, I could only think that the stone's promise was an heir.”

“Bagan said—”

“He was right. What I had to prove was that I could give my heart, that the faith I needed to find was faith in myself, faith in valuing that which only I could give.”

Finally, as if he couldn't stand apart from her for a moment longer, he reached out to touch her. She shuddered hard, her legs shaking with need.

“My love.” He pulled her into his arms and it was the place she so badly wanted to be, the place she'd never dreamed she'd be again, that she went willingly, shattered heart be damned.

She touched his face, ran trembling fingertips
over his lips. “It really is you, isn't it? You're really here.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I do love you, Connal. I didn't get a chance to tell you before, but I did. I do.”

His eyes blazed with passion, with life, with promises not yet made. “That was where I failed ye truly,” he said, touching her face now, tracing her own lips. “I had come to realize that my heart was yours, but I thought I needed to secure yours first before declaring myself. I thought I'd have more time to figure it all out—”

“Time.” Her heart skipped one beat, then two. “Are you-? How long-?”

He pulled her arms around him and tilted her head back. “As long as ye'll have me.”

“But the bargain—”

He kissed her, as if he couldn't wait another moment, another breath. And took what little breath she had away. There was all the passion she remembered, and something more she'd never felt before.

“The gods were very angry to have the promise of the stone tossed back to sea. But you showed them the promise had been fulfilled.” He stroked her face. “What you've done, your love for me, for Glenmuir… fulfilled the stone's promise. And the gods realized I'd fulfilled my own.”

“The gods—”

“Allowed me to ask for one thing.” He looked into her eyes, life as she'd never seen it sparking in his own. “I asked for life, with you.”

“I don't understand, do you mean…” Her eyes widened as he nodded. “Mortal?” she whispered, not daring to believe it.

“As mortal as you. I hope ye dinna mind, I'll no’ be popping in and out. Ye'll have to put up with having only a mortal man to love you.” He took her mouth then, kissing her deeply, until she well and
truly believed what he'd said. And when he lifted his mouth from hers, he looked into her eyes and said, “I do love you, Josie Griffin. My heart is yours.”

She hugged him tightly, tears welling in her eyes, unable to stop them, but not caring, for these were tears of joy. Indescribable, impossible joy.

A slight clearing of a throat intruded on their moment.

“Oh no.” Griff. And Freddie. What must they think of the scene she and Connal were creating? She looked up at him, but her joy was too immense, too huge, to worry about anything at the moment. “I guess I can always tell them it was love at first sight, right?”

“Them?”

“My father. He has no idea. About us. Nobody does.” She went to gesture behind him, scrambling madly for what she was going to say to Griff, but there was no one there.

Connal took her face between his hands and kissed her again. “There is one small thing I have yet to tell ye.” He frowned slightly. “Very small.”

Certain she could handle anything so long as he didn't move from her sight, she said, “What?”

“The gods saw fit to render mortality on someone else, as well, though I'm no’ certain if it was as a blessing or as punishment.” He shifted around and pulled her to his side as he did.

Standing just behind him, wearing a simply awful mustard yellow polo shirt, with plaid trousers and a matching tam, was Bagan. He wiggled his fingers at her. “Hello, Josie.”

Josie's mouth dropped open, then she looked from Bagan to Connal, then back to Bagan. “Really? Mortal?”

Both Bagan and Connal nodded. Only one of them was smiling.

She started to laugh, then laughed even harder, until she clung to Connal, who was beginning to look seriously alarmed. “Are ye okay?”

“Oh aye,” she said, still grinning. “I'm as okay as I've ever been in my entire life.” She looked to Connal. “Wait, he does get his own place to stay, right?”

Connal nodded. “Of course.”

She leaned in, and whispered, “He needs serious wardrobe help.”

Before Connal could reply, her father and Freddie reappeared. “Well,” Griff said jovially, “looks like you've all made acquaintance rather quickly.” He eyed the arm Connal had placed possessively around Josie's back.

“We've, uh, we've met,” Josie stammered.

“So I see.” Griff looked Connal over, then looked at Josie. He had to see the joy beaming from her, she thought, because he nodded, smiled at Connal, and said, “Care for a lift to town, laddie?”

“That's okay, Dad,” she said quickly. “I'll drive him in.” Then she smiled. “But Bagan here needs a lift.”

Bagan started to complain, but one look from Connal had him nodding and smiling, thanking Griff for his kindness.

“See you at Roddy's?” Griff asked her. “We have a great deal to go over.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Fine then.” He gave Connal one more considering look, then climbed in the rental car with Freddie. Bagan waved from the back window as they headed toward town.

Josie waved back, then turned to Connal and pulled him right back into her arms. “Please tell me this isn't a dream. I don't ever want to wake up.”

He tipped her head back and leaned in to kiss her.

“Aye, 'tis a dream. A grand dream. For there are none better than those that come true.” He kissed her then, hungrily, like a man staking his claim.

When he lifted his head, they simply stood there and stared at each other, as if each of them was still afraid to believe in what was right in front of them. “I'm sorry for the pain,” he said, brushing at a stray strand of hair.

“You're here, that's all that matters.” She rested her head on his chest, reveling in the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. His arms felt perfect and strong around her. She thought she would be content never to move from this very spot. “I'm sorry… about the baby. I thought, for a time, but—” She shook her head, unable to put what she felt into words.

Then she felt his finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze up to his. “It wasn't the destiny due us. No’ at the time.” He kissed her so gently it brought fresh tears to her eyes. “We'll have our bairns, Josie. When the time is right for us.” He pulled her to his side and they both turned to look at the island. “But first, we have another destiny to fulfill.”

In that moment, she had never been more certain that Fate and Destiny did indeed exist. And it had nothing to do with a cold stone set in hard metal. She looked up at the man she was destined to spend the rest of her life loving. No, Destiny was a living thing, ever-changing, ever-forming… its strength founded on the hearts of those who loved enough to give it the wings to fly.

She glanced up to find him gazing at her. A teasing grin came from somewhere to curve her lips. “So,” she said, taking his hand and tugging him toward Bidda's car, “when do you want to start your surf lessons?”

“My what?”

“It'll be fun.”

“Fun.”

“Yeah, you remember. Fun?”

He grinned then, that devilishly wicked grin she'd almost forgotten he possessed. She took one step backward, but he tugged her hand and she came flying back up against his chest. “Ask me again in about an hour,” he said, the words almost a growl against the side of her neck. “When I have you naked and beneath me in bed.”

She was already panting. “I-good idea.” She groped behind her for the door handle. “I'll drive.”

“Good idea.”

“Oh no. My father—”

“Can wait.” He was already peeling her shirt open.

“Yes,” she decided, somewhat breathlessly. “Why yes, he can.” She gasped when his fingers brushed over her. “I think this is going to be the shortest courtship in Glenmuir history,” she said, leaning her head back to allow him full access to… anything he damn well pleased.

“Aye,” he said, lowering his mouth to her. “Aye, that 'tis.” He caught her gaze just before his lips brushed her skin. “The MacNeil is back.”

“Aye,” she said, then her eyes drifted shut on a sigh of pleasure. “Aye, is he ever.”