Chapter Twenty-Two
“Out to the hard place, you say,” Norrie said, “and you just coming in from Tobermory now? Not but a few minutes on the island, and out we must go, hey.” He worked the rudder as he spoke, with full sail unfurled on his fishing boat.
A fast wind moved them toward the Caran Reef under a wide sky dotted with soft gray clouds.
“Aye, Norrie MacNeill, straightaway to the hard place,” Dougal answered. “But our Meg should go back to Caransay with you.”
“Our Meg?” Norrie raised a brow, curious.
“We two are…in agreement now,” Meg said with a little smile, reaching to cover Dougal’s hand with her gloved one.
“So I was thinking when you two came together from Tobermory on the hired boat. Your grandmothers will be pleased.” Norrie grinned. “We will all want to know about it.”
“Aye so, and Meg can tell you when she goes back with you.”
“I am going with you to the great rock,” Meg insisted. She leaned toward him, clutching her half cape at its buttoned collar.
“Go back to the island, please, Meg,” Dougal murmured.
She shook her head. She had to be with him now.
They were both tired after the long journey from the east by train and carriage, which had taken longer than expected, so that they had spent the night in a hotel in Oban as Mr. and Mrs. Stewart.
While the sweet joy of those hours together lingered, she knew Dougal felt even more pressed to get out to the lighthouse rock.
Arriving on Caransay less than an hour earlier, he had learned that his crew had taken visitors out to Sgeir Caran already that day.
“I want to go out to the rock with you,” she said.
Norrie huffed. “I am thinking everyone wants to go out to the hard place today. A steamer came to Mull yesterday,” he continued, “with a group of men dressed all in black, with tall hats. A bunch of ravens, they looked, ready to feast on your lighthouse, is my thought.”
“You might be right,” Dougal said.
“They sailed out to the rock this morning. The one who owns Guga was with them, the one who calls himself your cousin, Margaret.”
“Sir Roderick is my cousin through Strathlin. You know that, Seanair.”
“Aye, but I do not like that he is your kinsman. He and the others were going out to inspect the rock and the stonework there. A good thing I was still on the island, so I could take you over to the hard place quicklike.”
“A very good thing,” Dougal said.
“So, we are together, are we? I am thinking you are good friends now, is it?” Norrie asked mildly, hand on the rudder, eyes twinkling.
“More than good friends, sir,” Dougal said. “And she’s not going out to the rock.”
“I am,” Meg said.
“Well, you will want to fetch wee Sean back, so we may as well all go there and back.”
Meg gasped. “Sean is out there?”
“What in the devil—why?” Dougal asked in a growl.
“Is there aught wrong with it? He asked Sir Roderick, who said he could, and the lad was in the boat before we knew it. Your grandmother told me to fetch him back, and then you came in, and so we will all do that.”
“In that case, I am definitely going out to the rock,” Meg said, looking grim at Dougal.
“But straight home with Norrie—and Sean,” Dougal replied, frowning.
Hearing Norrie’s amused grunt, Meg realized that even if he did not like Roderick, he did not suspect the man might scheme to harm the child.
But she knew better. Reaching for Dougal’s hand again, she felt the strength in his answering grip. They sailed on in silence as the waves splashed the sides of the boat and Norrie shifted the rudder to speed them with the current and the wind.
Ahead loomed the long, distinctive shape of Sgeir Caran. Norrie guided the boat carefully through the treacherous path between toothy rocks as they approached Sgeir Caran, his focus intent as the sea sluiced and swirled through the maze of partly submerged rocks.
Then the black bulk of the rock soared above as the boat drew up inside its shadow. As the boat rose and fell with the slop-slop of the waves, two men came down the crudely cut stone steps to assist them.
*
“Hullo!” Alan Clarke said heartily as he helped them disembark on the stone quay. “It’s good to see you, Miss MacNeill!” He turned to Dougal. “You’re back just in time, sir.”
“Aye,” Dougal said as they climbed the stone steps toward the upper rock, Norrie with them, intending to fetch Sean. “I hear we have visitors.”
“Och, they came to see our progress,” Alan said. “They may contribute to the lighthouse funding and perhaps some future projects, so it is a good thing, it seems. Though inconvenient to have them here at such a time.”
“Are you still working on repairs following the gale?” Dougal asked.
“We cleared a good bit of damage and repaired what we could. And we retrieved all but one of the stones that were swept into the water. And that one is roped and ready to bring up. But there could be a problem with the rock beneath the water, sir,” Alan added.
“Evan Mackenzie went doon the deep to check on the repairs as we brought up the fallen stones. He found a crack in the foundation stone.”
“How large?” Dougal asked quickly.
“A sizeable fissure. Evan will be glad to see you’re back.
He has been anxious to go back down to measure it for shoring up.
He will be glad of a partner—risky when we have but one diver.
And I hope you recovered some funding while you were away.
We will need it. Evan says we may have to build a sea wall. ”
Dougal swore low and paused to ask Alan more questions. Standing on the topmost surface of the rock, Meg felt the heavy push of the wind across the plateau, whipping her cloak and skirt. She looked around, anxious to find Sean, Roderick, and the others.
Hearing Evan Mackenzie call out, she waved as he came toward them. Dougal hurried to speak with him, while Norrie turned to answer Alan’s questions about the ever-important subject of the weather, for the wind was rising and the rushing waves were tipped with white.
Then, across the width of the rock, she saw a group of men in dark suits and hats, some with canes, each one looking out of place.
Roderick stood tall and broad in the midst of the visitors.
With relief, Meg saw Sean, his hand caught in Roderick’s gloved fingers.
Safe enough for the moment, but she only wanted her son safe with her—and his father.
“Sean!” She hurried forward, skirts billowing. Seeing her, he broke free and ran toward her. Stooping to catch him in her arms, she knelt to embrace him, knees in a cold puddle, but she hardly cared. Straightening, she looked up at the man who approached.
“Roderick,” she said coolly.
“Why, Lady Strathlin! What a fetching picture, mother and child. I am surprised to see you here. Have you ever come out to see the lighthouse construction?”
“I have. Why are you here? And why did you bring my son with you?”
“I came out with members of the Lighthouse Commission. Some of us are considering donating funds, but we were very interested to see the place, and see the progress. The boy wanted to come. No one objected. His mother was not here to care for him,” he chided.
“Sir,” she said pointedly, “I wonder that you have any funds to contribute. According to my secretary, you have been borrowing from me for the last three years. Yet now you are making promises to the lighthouse fund. Do you have another source of wealth?”
“To be honest, madam, I expect to be married very soon to a very wealthy baroness. I hope you have not reconsidered your promise, madam. That would be unpleasant.” He smiled and reached out to touch Sean’s golden head.
She pulled the boy away and stepped in front him, hiding her child behind her full skirt and petticoats. “But I have changed my mind,” she said. “I cannot marry you, Roderick. It is in fact quite impossible.”
He glowered down at her. “Impossible! I doubt that.”
“Good day, Mr. Matheson,” Dougal said, striding toward them. He tipped his hat. “I believe you are misinformed. The lady is already married.”
“She’s married!” Roderick barked out. “Preposterous. What would you know about it?”
“I am her husband,” Dougal said, offering his arm to Meg, who slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow, natural, familiar, solid, and safe.
“It is true,” she said, looking up at Matheson. “We are married.”
“That cannot be,” he muttered. “I saw you only days ago. You scarcely know each other.”
“Truth is—we were married years ago,” she said.
“Aye.” Dougal glanced down at her. “We had a simple ceremony, but we—became estranged. But we have reconciled and resolved our differences.”
“And you expect me to believe that? A clumsy lie to rescue the lady from embarrassment that she has earned, sir. She had a child out of wedlock, with no father, no husband in sight. I have it on the best authority.”
“Her kin know exactly whose child that is,” Norrie said, walking up to them just then. “Come here, lad,” he told Sean. “Your Cousin Fergus is over there looking for you. Run see what he wants.” Sean took off.
“Walk!” Meg called after him. “Do not run on the wet rock!”
“That wee lad,” Norrie said, looking hard at Roderick, “is the son of my granddaughter and her husband, this fine fellow, Mr. Stewart. He came to our island years ago. They were wed, just as they told you, and that fine son came of it. They were apart for a few years. Youth,” he said, shaking his head.
“They do not see love and happiness even when it sits on their shoulders like a bird, hey? But they have come to their senses.” He grinned at Meg and Dougal, then turned to Roderick.
“All the residents of Caransay know about it. No one is asking for your approval!”
Roderick sputtered. “This—is unbelievable.”
“But true,” Norrie said. “Eh?”
Dougal smiled in answer, knowing and sure, and rested a hand on Meg’s shoulder.
She felt tears rise in her eyes—not the salt wind, but love and gratitude and relief. “Aye, everyone will swear to it.”