Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“Though we want a ceremony to renew those vows,” Norrie said, scowling almost playfully at Meg and Dougal.
“We will make sure of it,” Dougal said.
“Preposterous,” Roderick repeated.
“I have known Dougal Stewart for a long time. Even before Lord Strathlin died, though he never knew about our—secret marriage.”
“Marriage!” Evan said, coming up to them, overhearing. “Congratulations! And I understand that you can be called Lady Strathlin now,” he added.
“It is true,” she said. “I—did not mention it before.”
“Humble as well as beautiful,” Evan said, grinning. “Dougal, you have done well. And my lady, your husband is a fine man, and a lucky one too.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Lady Strathlin?” Alan Clarke said as he joined them. “I just heard. You kept it secret!”
“I did. I am sorry. I should have told—my husband’s friends.”
“Whenever you were ready, that was the time to tell us.” Evan smiled and turned to Dougal.
“Sir, I am honestly delighted. And add to that, a child, I hear. This news will thrill anyone who hears it. People love a romantic story and a happy ending. Isn’t that so, Sir Roderick? ” Evan fixed Matheson with a stare.
Roderick Matheson mumbled something under his breath, then turned on his heel and stalked off to join the other gentlemen in his traveling party.
Evan turned to Dougal. “Are you ready, sir, before the weather changes?”
“Aye,” Dougal said. He turned to Meg. “We need to go down to look at the flaw in the rock.”
“Now? But the waves are picking up.”
“Just briefly,” Dougal said. “We need to decide what is to be done about it. We will be right back up, love. The gear limits how long we can safely stay down. If you wait, rather than go back with Norrie, Sean might find the diving venture quite interesting. Bring him along to see it.”
“I will.” As she watched him walk away with Evan, she felt a dread spin heavily in her gut.
Roderick was with his fellows, his back turned to her. Certainly his objections and arguments had been laid to rest—he had no weapon now to threaten her or Dougal.
There was nothing to worry about, she told herself. Just a quick dive, and they would all sail back to the island before the storm hit.
Standing in the whipping wind, she watched the sea. The water was choppy and opaque; far to the west, the sky was leaden gray. She could not shake her unease.
*
Sliding his gauntleted hands along the curving slope of the rock, Dougal followed its contours.
The water was not as clear or still as he liked for the task, but he could see well enough to judge the dimension of the flaw.
Beside him, Evan pointed to another area, and Dougal made his way there.
His steps were like clumsy, slow dance to the clicking cadence of the air going in and out of his helmet valves.
Nearby, two diving platforms banged randomly against the side of the submerged rock.
Overhead, suspended on thick ropes, the large dressed stone that had tumbled into the sea in the earlier storm was trussed and ready to be cranked back to the surface.
All that, and the clean seabed beneath his feet, reminded him how much work his crew had done and would continue to do to ensure that the lighthouse went up and the rock stayed safe.
Appreciating that effort, for a moment he felt so grateful that the work would continue, thanks to Meg, Lady Strathlin—life and love to him now—who waited on the surface for him to return.
Following Evan’s gestures, Dougal saw the long fissure in the dark rock face; the split began above his head and ran downward, narrowing to disappear midway.
Breathing rhythmically, he half climbed the incline for a closer look.
Above, the massive rock thrust upward through the water, and he could see the underside of Norrie’s boat rocking on waves driven by wind.
The storm was coming in fast. They could not stay down here much longer.
With a measuring tape pulled from the canvas bag at his belt, he estimated the length and width of the crevice as the tug of underwater currents pushed at his heavily weighted suit.
Reaching his gauntlet into the fissure, he found the crack to be fairly deep.
A few small fish drifted out of the crevice and he batted them away.
Moving toward Evan, who was measuring another part of the rock, he waved to catch his attention and signaled they should return to the surface.
He had seen what he needed to see; the split in the rock was large enough to be of concern, considering the weight of the lighthouse to be erected on its surface.
“Dougal.” Alan Clarke’s voice came crackling through the speaking tube.
“All is well down here. Up there?”
“Storm brewing. It will not reach us yet, but wind and waves are strong. Come up! We need to return to Caransay.”
“Aye. We’re coming up.”
He and Mackenzie moved toward the two wooden platforms hovering nearby, suspended on ropes.
Stepping onto one wooden deck, Dougal tugged three times on a rope to indicate his readiness.
Evan did the same. Hanging on, Dougal saw Evan’s platform move upward first. Soon, he felt his own platform shift as it was drawn up through the water.
Grasping the ropes, he looked up to see the underside of Evan’s deck moving ahead.
Sudden and strong, a wave washed through like a train, smashing Dougal’s wooden platform against the side of the great rock, knocking so hard that he was nearly thrown free.
He hung on, bending his knees to keep his balance.
With one booted foot, he shoved the planking away from the rock, felt it come free and begin to rise again.
Once more his deck paused, Evan’s too, just above. Halting their ascent was necessary for safety. Holding the ropes, Dougal took long, slow breaths to give his lungs a chance to adapt. With a lurch, the platform moved again.
Another wave cracked the planking against the rock.
This time, the impact spun him outward, and his feet slid off the wooden deck.
Scrabbling back to the shifting deck, he snatched the rope of the platform, which tilted precariously against the steep rocky incline.
Looking up, he saw Evan’s platform swaying above him, coming closer to the surface.
Another hard wave slammed through and a wealth of water swept around the platform, so that it bucked like a horse, knocking into the rock again. Dougal felt one heavy boot slide over the edge, and he hung on, tugging on the rope, asking to be pulled up.
Moments later, he felt and heard a rumbling vibration, then a loud, horrid sound like a roar as the undersea world shuddered all around him.
Glancing up, he saw the trussed granite block break loose from its moorings, crash into the rocky slope, and begin to tumble and slide down the incline.
Dougal swung his weight to shift the platform out of the way as the stone grazed past him, just missing him—and catching on one of the platform ropes, ripping it free at a corner.
The deck tilted as the immense granite block skittered downward.
Silt and debris clouded the water, turning it to midnight darkness.
Reaching out, he felt the wall of dressed stone just in front of him.
It had missed him by inches. Breathing out in shaky relief, he stepped back from the edge of the sharply tilted platform.
But he could not move. The thick toe ridge of his lead boot was caught just under the block.