Taming the Heiress

by Susan King

  Dizzy, Dougal realized that the airflow had stopped yet again. His head pounded.

  He looked upward and saw a vision emerge through the green sea. A pale, graceful sea fairy undulated through the water toward him, her white garments veiling her beautiful form, her golden hair streaming outward. She lowered beside him like an angel, placed her hands on either side of his helmet, and looked at him.

  God, how he loved her. He reached out for her, but she slipped away, turning, to take the bar from Alan's hands. The three of them worked the bar under the lip of the stone and pressed, pushed again.

  The stone shifted—and this time stayed up long enough for Dougal to snatch the air hose free. He looped it around his shoulder, his movements slow and lethargic, as if in a dream.

  Evan and Alan grabbed him by the arms and pulled him onto the platform, tugging at the ropes in a frantic signal. As the deck began to rise with the two helmeted divers, Alan Clarke let go of the ropes and took the sea fairy's hand. He pulled her upward with him as they rose toward the swirling surface.

  Moments later, Dougal burst through the water into freedom.

  * * *

  Meg stood shivering, draped in a blanket produced from somewhere, while men worked frantically to free Dougal's helmet. When it was lifted away at last, she saw his ashen face, though it was the most blessed sight she had ever beheld.

  She waited while the men worked to loosen his gauntlets, weighted belt, and boots; others worked to free Evan of his gear while Alan stood ready with blankets for their shoulders. Dougal's eyes met hers, and his gaze told her that he was well, and safe. His slow, secret smile was for her alone.

  She stepped forward as the men lifted away his brass collar and removed his heavy belt, and then she sank to her knees beside him. Dougal lifted his arm to draw her close, his treated canvas suit stiff and wet against her, seawater dripping from the fabric. She slid her arms around his neck and did not care who saw or what they thought.

  "Oh, God, Dougal," she whispered, pressing her face to his.

  "My love," he said, "you came down there like a sea fairy. I thought I was dreaming—or dying. I thought you were not real."

  "I am real. I am yours, love," she murmured beside his ear, and suppressed a sob. He pressed her shoulder and she felt his lips against her hair.

  The wind gusted, damp with rain, and Meg looked up at the mass of clouds coming nearer.

  "We'd best get into the boats," Norrie said. "Alan, can you take another boatload of men from this rock? Are you fit for the rowing?"

  "I'm fine," Alan insisted, and ran toward the vessels.

  Meg stood while Dougal was still being divested of his boots. "Where's Iain?" she asked then. "He should go with Norrie. Fergus—where—oh!"

  She heard a shout at the same time as she saw Fergus running across the plateau of the rock. Then she saw why, and she screamed in protest and began to run as well.

  Iain stood at the lower edge of the rock, where the incline slid down to the water. He turned to look at them as Meg ran toward him, her bare feet slapping on the wet rock while the wind shoved her back, but she pushed onward.

  "Iain! Come here!" The wind tore away her words, and rain pattered all around. The waves were sloshing hard against the rock, each one higher than the last.

  "I want to see the kelpie!" Iain called. "I want to see him!"

  "Not now," she told him calmly. "Come here."

  After a moment, he turned and went toward her, and she reached toward him. Dougal appeared at her side then, out of his diving suit, clad in layered shirts and leggings, a blanket round his shoulders.

  "Iain, lad," he called. "Come here. Careful now—good. Keep away from the edge." He began to walk forward.

  A blast of wind knocked Iain to his knees, and he cried out and scrambled back up. Then Meg saw a wave arching behind him, over him, and she reached toward him just as Dougal did the same, hurrying toward the boy.

  A new wave surged upward and sucked back, pulling Iain with it, soaking him, drawing him into the sea. Dougal lunged forward, and Meg went with him as Iain scrabbled for a hold on the rock.

  Then a blur went past them as a man plunged down the rock into the water to snatch the boy—Frederick was there, Meg saw, tossing Iain back in the spray toward Dougal, who caught the child up in his arms. Another wave arched and crashed, and the wind tore wildly, and as Frederick scrambled up the slippery rock, Meg stretched forward to grab at his hands. She missed.

  "Take the child! Go!" Dougal called, shoving Iain into her arms and pushing them both higher on the slope. Then he stretched toward Frederick, grabbing his arms, hauling him back as the wild, swollen water washed heavily over them.

  A moment later, as the spray cleared, Meg saw both men clambering to their feet. Hugging her son, watching her lover and her enemy approach together, she nearly sobbed in relief. They were all bound to one another now, she realized, obligated and saved, however unwilling the bond might be.

  "Frederick—thank you," she said hoarsely.

  He stared down at her, breath heaving. "Of course." He turned to Dougal. "Thank you, sir. I will not forget it—any of it. Neither of you need fear anything from me. I give you my word." He glared at them, then turned and slowly walked away.

  With a little sob, Meg went into Dougal's arms, feeling his exhaustion, leaning against him even as he leaned on her, Iain snug between them. Dougal smoothed his hand over the boy's hair and touched his brow to Meg's while the wind and rain whipped at them.

  She did not feel the sting of the rain—she only felt Dougal's strength, his caring spirit, with their son tucked safe between them. She only felt the warmth of Dougal's hand along her cheek as he cradled her face and kissed her, and she returned the kiss with fervor, with relief, with bliss. She filled to the brim then with warmth, with love, with a sense so enduring that nothing, no storm, no human, could weaken it.

  That kiss ended and another began, and another, until she was laughing and tearful, until Dougal was chuckling against her mouth. He drew back and gave her a sweet, private smile.

  And suddenly the wind lessened, the rain lightened, and as Meg looked up at Dougal in that strange, greeny, eldritch light, she realized how deeply, truly fortunate she was.

  "The gift of the kelpie," she murmured, "has blessed us beyond measure."

  Dougal tilted a brow, then nodded. "Let's go home, Mrs. Stewart," he said. "We need some rest. And we will dream a few more dreams, aye?" He touched Iain's golden head. "They do seem to come true."

  Epilogue

  April, 1858

  "All the way up?" Iain asked, as he and his parents stepped into the shadows in the high, narrow stairwell.

  "Straight to the top," Dougal agreed, as he shut the door to the lighthouse behind them. Turning, he smiled at Meg and Iain. "The lighthouse keepers and the commissioners will be here soon, but I wanted to take you two up before the ceremony begins."

  "I will be first!" Iain said, as he scrambled up the steps ahead of Meg and Dougal.

  Dougal held out his arm. "Mrs. Stewart? Are you sure you want to do this?" He knew that she much preferred her most recent title to that of Lady Strathlin, especially when they came to Caransay.

  "Of course, but go ahead. You and Iain climb far faster than I can these days. I will take my time, I promise," Meg assured him, when Dougal hesitated, watching her. She placed a gloved hand on her expanding abdomen, hidden by the tented hem of her dark blue brocaded jacket.

  "Come on!" Iain yelled down at them, hopping impatiently.

  "Wait there, lad—and do not jump about, it makes your mother anxious," Dougal said. He bounded up the steps two at a time to meet Iain on the first landing of the long climb. Sweeping the boy onto his shoulders while Iain giggled, he turned again to be certain that Meg was having no difficulty.

  She looked so beautiful, he mused, so graceful, every bit a baroness in her outfit designed by that English fellow in his Paris shop. A blue velvet bonnet was perched on her head, and her
golden hair was twisted smooth beneath the drape of a short dark veil. Her rounded shape and full bosom only deepened his desire, his love, and his respect for her. Dougal liked best to see her hair gloriously loose and her clothing simple—as she herself preferred—but he was always proud of her when she adopted the elegant guise of Lady Strathlin.

  Dougal wore the black suit he had worn to their small and quiet wedding, and Iain was dressed in a new outfit of brown velveteen, although the boy had protested loudly when Mrs. Berry had produced the thing. Meg had explained to him that everyone must look their best that day, for guests would arrive soon—a party of commissioners and investors would come over the water with Norrie and Fergus. Then the christening ceremony for the newly completed Caran Reef Lighthouse would begin.

  Smiling up at Dougal, Meg waved him on. He climbed slowly, glancing back now and again. He knew that she was strong and healthy, and he was proud that she maintained a full schedule whenever they were at Strathlin Castle or the Edinburgh town house. Yet he felt a few anxious qualms about her welfare.

  He had missed so much with Iain, and although he made up for that every day, he wanted to be part of the second child's life from the very beginning. He was determined to be available for Meg whenever she might need him, for he had failed at that years before. Recently he had turned down a chance to supervise a new lighthouse on a wild northern sea rock—there would be other opportunities for other light towers.

  The birth was four months away, and already he was nervous as a cat. Thora tried to ease his fears, while Elga enjoyed teasing him a little. Both women told him that his apprehension was groundless, predicting that he and Meg would someday have a house full of strong and beautiful children.

  "Let me open the door," Iain said, and Dougal set him down so that he could turn the gleaming brass knob in the oak door at the top of the stairs. While climbing, the boy had stopped a few times to open doors on the two levels below, peeking at bunks, kitchen, sitting room, and storage rooms.

  Soon Meg joined them at the top, smiling, the faint flush in her cheeks brightening her beautiful aqua eyes, shining like the sea in sunlight. "It's not so very high," she said. "And I think the exercise is very good for me."

  "Madam, you did well," he murmured, bowing while he waited for her to preceed him into the lantern house.

  The walls of the compact, circular room were glassed all around above the wainscoting, giving an expansive view of sea and sky. The room was dominated by a huge, complex arrangement of glittering prismatic lenses in amber and clear glass.

  "Oh!" Meg gasped. "What a beautiful lantern! I've never seen one of these so close." She took Iain's hand and walked with him around the perimeter of the huge light, which gleamed like a diamond, its hundreds of polished-glass surfaces cut like prisms, arranged in slightly angled rows to provide the most powerful illumination. The brass framework and fittings added even more brightness and beauty to the lens.

  Pointing upward, Iain stood on his toes, trying to get a closer look. Dougal picked him up and held him high.

  "Go ahead. You may touch it," he told Iain when the boy reached out. "The lamps are not burning yet. Oil lamps are used to light the lens," he explained, glancing at Meg. "They are lit at dusk and kept burning until dawn."

  "This is what is called a Fresnel lens?" Meg asked.

  "Aye, a Fresnel of the first order—there are seven levels of size and power. It was rather expensive to acquire a lantern as powerful as this one, but well worth it. Our investors will be pleased, I think. This lighthouse will be both enduring and functional, and it will protect this part of the coast for centuries." Dougal reached up to smooth his hand over one of the glazed, brilliant surfaces.

  Meg went to the window and gazed out over the sea and sky. "How far can the light be seen?" she asked.

  "We estimate eighteen miles on a clear night," Dougal said. "In deep fog, when the light may not cast far, there are bells set in a cupola in the roof. One of the keepers will ring out patterns to warn passing ships that there is a reef and a lighthouse nearby."

  Meg nodded. "Fergus and Norrie will be quite busy."

  "Aye. And I'm glad they were given this assignment. Those two are the perfect choice to be the keepers of the Caran Light. Of course, the Lighthouse Commission considered the excellent recommendations of the resident engineer and Lady Strathlin," Dougal added with a grin. "And The Commission prefers local men as lightkeepers, particularly seafarers, since they understand the moods of the sea and the changing weather peculiar to their own region."

  "Grandmother Thora is pleased, too—I know she worried about Norrie going out each day for the fishing, now that he's getting older. And with three men tending the light, Norrie will still have time to fetch the mail, which he insists on doing."

  Dougal set Iain down, and they joined Meg at the window. In the pale, vast sky, gray clouds moved fast over the horizon. Far below the high tower, down at the base of the immense dark rock, the sea was choppy and greenish in the rising wind.

  "There! A boat, I see it!" Iain cried, pointing.

  "Very observant, lad," Dougal said, peering toward the south. "You'll be a help to your grandfather and to Fergus MacNeill whenever you come to Caransay with us." He ruffled the boy's golden curls. Before their marriage, he and Meg had gently explained to Iain the truth about his parentage—as much as the child could understand at barely six and a half years old.

  Iain had accepted the news easily, something Meg had attributed to his young age. Deeply grateful to have gained Iain's affection so readily, Dougal was sure that the boy's trusting heart had been shaped by the generous lessons of love and acceptance taught within the MacNeill family. He knew that he, himself, had learned from them as well.

  "That must be Grandfather Norrie with our guests," Meg said, looking down at the boat coming over the water.

  "Aye. My dear, I hope you do not object, but I believe Sir Frederick is among them. One of the commissioners mentioned the invitation in his last letter."

  "If so, then he is welcome." She touched Iain's shoulder as she spoke. "We will always be in his debt. I sent word through my solicitors that his selfless deed more than paid the monetary debt that he owed... the baroness, and that she would not accept repayment of the funds."

  "That quality of generosity," he said softly, "is one of the virtues I love best about the baroness."

  "She learned the importance of generosity and forgiveness, too, in her struggles with that odious resident engineer," she said, wrinkling her nose.

  He chuckled. "There are several men in the boat," he said, watching as the little craft approached the rock. "One of them will be the experienced lightkeeper assigned by the commissioners to train Norrie and Fergus. We prefer three keepers for each light, so that two may stay on duty while the third rests."

  Meg nodded and stood silently for a few moments, flattening one gloved hand against the pristine glass. She did not watch her grandfather's boat, but gazed out to sea. Dougal touched her slim shoulder.

  "Your thoughts, my love?" he asked quietly.

  "I am thinking," she said, "that I was wrong, and that the resident engineer was right."

  He looked down at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

  "I am thinking," she went on, "that this light is a beautiful monument indeed, a lantern upon a finer future. It stands here in honor of all the lives lost in those waters—my father and your parents among them. With luck, no more lives will be lost because of this great, dark reef, and the future will indeed be brighter for all of us."

  Dougal slipped his arm around his wife's shoulders and pulled her close. He dipped his head to kiss her temple softly beneath the tilted brim of her hat. For a moment he could not speak, for his throat tightened.

  "I wish," he whispered, "that my parents could have known you. They would surely love you as much as I do."

  She smiled silently, and he saw tears glaze her eyes.

  "Look!" Iain said, pointing out to sea.

 
"Aye, the boat," Dougal said. "Thank the Lord they're so close to the quay at the base of the rock. The winds are picking up. We'll have a storm before long."

  "I hope we can finish the ceremony before it sweeps in," Meg said. "Although I would not mind being stranded with you again on this rock, Mr. Stewart"—she smiled up at him so fetchingly that he felt desire spin inside of him—"I do not relish the thought of spending the day in the sitting room of the lighthouse entertaining a group of lighthouse commissioners." She slipped her arm around his waist.

  "They would enjoy it, though, for it would give them time to solicit even more funds from Lady Strathlin." He grinned. "Don't fret. The ceremony will not take long—simply the cutting of a ribbon and the sharing of some whisky. No whisky for you two," he added. "Mrs. Berry sent a fruit brose for you both to drink."

  "Look there!" Iain said again. "Do you see them?"

  "See who, dear?" Meg asked.

  "The water horses! Far out on the water. The eichuisge, all of them, are coming this way."

  "What?" Meg gazed in the direction that her son pointed.

  "What are you seeing?" Dougal asked.

  "The white horses, there, in the foam," Iain said excitedly.

  Dougal narrowed his eyes. Suddenly he saw, as he had seen once before, the beautiful, prancing shapes of a legion of horses, their hooves pounding forward, their manes spilling down, then rising again as their proud heads and chests were lifted. He watched, entranced.

  "Oh!" Meg said. "Those are wave curls. The white foam on the highest waves sometimes looks like—"

  "He's right, my love," Dougal said. "I see them, too—just where the light pours through the waves as they crest."

  "Ah, I do see them," she murmured, smiling.

  "Must be a hundred of them, all racing for the rock!" Iain laughed with delight. Dougal scooped him up to give the child a higher vantage point.

  "They've come to give their blessing to the lighthouse today," Dougal said. "And you saw them first, my lad."