Chapter 1 #2
"Any man could fall in love with you, and some might scheme to marry you due to your fortune." He smiled. "Not me, my dear. I do adore you, but I keep you firmly on a pedestal, where you belong."
"I shall only topple." Meg laughed a little. "But you're wrong. No one else has asked for my hand but Sir Frederick."
"If any fellow makes an unwanted advance toward you, I want to hear about it." Guy frowned. "I shall speak to Matheson."
"Thank you, but I will do that, after I return from the Isles."
He nodded, and gestured toward the silver tray. "Quite a few letters this morning, I see."
"A good number of these are acceptances for the soiree for Miss Jenny Lind in early September."
"I expect everyone will want to attend."
"I hope so. There is so much to do to be ready." She felt a moment of doubt, wondering how Angela Shaw had convinced her to host an event for the celebrated Swedish Nightingale. "Did you send an invitation to Mr. Dougal Robertson Stewart?"
"The engineer? Yes, a servant delivered it to his rooms last week.
The man was difficult to find, and the invitation could not be sent by daily post. He's often out in some remote place putting up lighthouses, and his family seat is out in Strathclyde.
Fortunately, he keeps rooms in town on Calton Hill.
I think you do well to invite Mr. Stewart. A gesture of truce, as it were."
"No doubt he sees it as a gesture of surrender."
"Arrogant. When you finally meet him, I hope it will not come to blows," Guy said in a droll tone.
"His letters over the past several months have been insistent to the point of rudeness. His latest action is a little declaration of war, in my opinion. Obtaining parliamentary permission to construct barracks on my island, when we denied him the right, was—odious!"
"Mr. Stewart does what he wants, it seems."
"He is impatient and demanding." She sighed. "I admit that in his letters he shows concern for the welfare of his men. But he is otherwise obstinate in his dealings with my soliciting firm."
"In person, I hear, he is the very devil for charm."
"His actions do not reflect it," she snapped.
"Nonetheless, my sister-in-law knows him, and says that Mr. Stewart is seldom seen at parties—rather like his nemesis, Lady Strathlin." Guy grinned. "But when he does appear, she says young ladies practically faint cold away."
"Charming? Perhaps he is simply terrifying."
Guy smiled. "He is a handsome fellow, says my sister-in-law, but it is his daring heroics that give him such a romantic aura. Saving the workmen who fell in that bridge disaster in Fife last year was a remarkable feat."
She nodded. "The Edinburgh Review reported that he dove into the cold sea to pull each man out of the water before assistance could arrive. That is admirable."
"Your generosity was equally admirable, madam.
You paid the medical costs of the injured men and contributed funds to restore the bridge after its collapse.
Unfortunately, that did not melt Mr. Stewart's heart toward you.
Madam, you asked my uncle to send over Stewart's latest letter.
Here." Guy removed an envelope from his pocket.
"He included a copy of the queen's order and—"
"Let me guess. More plans," she droned, scanning the pages he handed her.
"He is persistent, if infuriating. He sends letters and plans every month, and refuses to be swayed by our refusals.
What an odious man," she muttered, studying the copy of the queen's note of permission for Stewart's project and the meticulous line drawings included on another page.
Recognizing the coastline of Caransay and then a sketch showing Sgeir Caran's stark grace fitted with an elegantly proportioned lighthouse, her heart quickened.
"It is a grand thing, that design," Guy murmured.
"It is," she said, "but I hope the thing does not go up."
"Uncle Edward thinks he may be able to halt Mr. Stewart's funding and delay or prevent the construction, regardless of government writs.
The man requires fifty thousand pounds to complete the work, a great deal of it from private sponsors interested in supporting the project.
I doubt the queen will fund his lighthouse out of her own purse. "
"Nor will I." Meg frowned, reading Stewart's letter again. His neat, spiked script gave her an immediate sense of a strong, confident man with a certain edge to his character. "His pleas on behalf of his men are stirring, but he goes too far in forcing this issue."
"That rock is a dangerous place. He should not allow construction to proceed there."
Holding Stewart's letter, Meg felt a strange, hot current surge through her. Sgeir Caran brought back emotions and memories that she must try to forget—and could not.
"The arrogance!" She tapped a finger on Stewart's envelope. "He means to start work on Caransay!"
"Since you will be there on holiday, perhaps you should meet with him to explain the legal risks if he persists."
"No. It would ruin my holiday."
"You cannot avoid him on an island just seven miles long."
"I can and will," she said bluntly. "And we will rid ourselves of his project somehow.
When I purchased the island's lease, I promised my kin and tenants that Caransay would remain free from threats and outsiders.
I must keep my word. The thought of a lighthouse on that ancient rock.
.. is unbearable." She glanced away. "Tell Sir Edward that his law firm may deal with Mr. Stewart as seems fit.
I will add a personal note to the next letter they send him.
It is time I voiced my opinion directly to him. "
"Good idea, madam. Perhaps when you are on Caransay you could try to see what Mr. Stewart is like from a distance. Be a spy."
She smiled. "If he looks thoroughly wicked, I shall withdraw his invitation to the soiree."
Guy chuckled. "While you are gone, I will assist Mrs. Shaw with the arrangements for your party."
"Excellent, thank you." Still holding Dougal Stewart's letter, Meg considered it again.
Plain stationery and unadorned black script with an ink smear or two gave her the impression of a practical, wholly masculine man who preferred simplicity and directness.
So he was handsome, well educated, and had shown courage in a crisis.
Those were attractive qualities in a man, and she wished she could like him.
But he was the most stubborn man she had ever known.
And he threatened all she held dear and vowed to protect.
His lighthouse could change the peace and safety she had ensured for the residents of Caransay forever, and its presence could destroy the island's privacy, as well as the mystery and traditions of Sgeir Caran.
He would simply have to build his lighthouse somewhere else, even if she had to pay the cost herself. Mr. Stewart could go to Hades for all she cared, so long as he left Sgeir Caran and Caransay alone.
Sgeir Caran. Suddenly, vividly, she remembered a beautiful, virile man standing on a black rock in a wild storm. Feeling a hot blush, she crammed the letter back in its envelope.
Mr. Stewart could not be allowed to destroy the sanctity of that place.