Chapter 8 #3
"Did you expect a happy reunion of lovers?
" Meg wished, all at once, that she had a hand free with which to slap him—yet she wished, too, that he would pull her into his arms and kiss away the hurt, help her dissolve the bitterness she had carried for years.
She wanted to be free of that anger and sadness, but did not know how to release it or if it was even possible after so long.
"No happy reunion," he said, "once I realized who you were and what I had done. I thought you did not remember me until we met on the machair and watched the northern lights. I hoped a kiss would remind you more clearly than an explanation."
"How could I have forgotten?" she snapped.
His grip eased on her hands, though he did not let go. "I do not know why you appeared that night, or quite what had happened—my memory of it is very dim."
"All but one part, I am certain," she said frostily.
"Aye, well. For you, too, I hope." He pursed his mouth.
"The storm was fearsome, and the night was dark, and I was not sure what I saw or who you might be.
I thought—" He paused. "You will think me a fool if I tell you what I thought that night, Meg MacNeill.
Though you may already think me a fool."
"Just a brutal cad."
"Fair enough."
"Leave me be. And leave this rock and the island, too."
"I will stay until my work is done," he said firmly. "But I will leave you be, if that is what you want. First hear me out."
"You cannot convince me your behavior was justified."
"And what—whoa, stay with me until this is done!" He pulled her back gently but firmly when she jerked away. "This is not a pleasant encounter for either of us, but it must be got through. What, exactly, do you think I did then?"
"You took advantage of me, sir, and left me in a boorish and inconsiderate manner." She leaned forward, spoke hissing through her teeth, sharp and angry, fueled by years.
"Left you! My dear, you left me. I awoke to find you gone."
"I saw the boat," she said between her teeth. "I saw the men come to fetch you again, those who no doubt left you there. All of you—whoever the others were—schemed it together."
His brow tightened. "Just what," he said, "have you believed of me all these years?"
Meg searched his eyes, saw only sincere puzzlement, felt his free hand hold her snug and insistent at the small of her back. Their joined fists nestled against her breasts. He felt lean and hard against her. Deep within, she ached for him—but she would not give in to that.
"I believed what I saw that morning," she said.
"Your friends came back to get you. They must have left you on the rock the night before, knowing that I would be here.
The storm blew in and marooned us, so that your friends could not fetch you under cover of darkness.
So I saw your departure at dawn. Norrie had already come to bring me back. "
"Why on earth were you here that night? And I did not know that I would end up here myself." He shook his head as if confused. "Had you come out to Sgeir Caran to watch the birds, perhaps, and got caught in the storm?"
"I was here because my grandmothers sent me here for the night," she said, "and you know exactly why."
He shook his head again. "Tell me what you mean."
"Do not be insulting, sir." She heard someone call his name and realized it was Alan Clarke. Glancing up, she saw Clarke and Norrie standing on a rise in the rock, near the stack. "Go on. Go have your luncheon, and leave me be," she said.
He looked up, then glanced around. "They'll see us if we stand here. Come with me." Tugging on her arm, he led her under the dark arch of the narrow cave fronted by stones and pebbles. The sea swirled in little pools and eddies, green and frothy, hiding the sounds of their feet on the stones.
She held back at the entrance, but he drew her inside with him. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her swiftly, so that her back was against the rock wall and her escape was blocked. His hands rested on her shoulders, and he stood close enough that his body brushed hers.
Warily, breathing quickly, she watched him, her heart pounding hard now that she was inside this place, with him. Outside, instead of a raging storm, she heard the soft whooshing cadence of the waves, and heard men's voices, then the crunch of stones as Alan and Norrie walked nearby.
Dougal pressed her into the deepest shadow in the corner of the confining cave, holding her tightly, one hand at her back.
"We must go," she insisted. "They will think we fell into the sea—"
"Stay," he whispered, and bent his head, his lips nuzzling her cheek. "Stay... There is something I must tell you."
His breath caressed her lips, and resistance dropped away from her like a lead weight.
Her knees seemed to give, and she grabbed his hard arms, seeking support, even as she tilted her head in surrender.
His mouth covered hers softly, and her heart seemed to shift, to turn and change, as his kiss began to fill the well of yearning that had been empty within her for so long.
Only for now, she told herself. Just once more.