Page 32 of Taming the Heiress
"Evan Mackenzie of Glencarron?" Meg asked, glancing at Dougal. "Isn't that property owned by the Earl of Kildonan?"
"Glencarron belongs to Mr. Mackenzie," Dougal answered quietly. "To be truthful, he is the earl's heir and a viscount himself, though he dislikes using his rightful title of Lord Glencarron. You've heard of his father, I take it."
"The man is notorious. He is much hated in the northern Highlands," she said. "He has a wretched reputation for cruelty in his methods to clear his people from his land in order to allow for sheep."
Dougal nodded. "Evan wants nothing to do with his father and refers to himself only by the family name and his own property. But I hear now that the earl is quite ill. If he passes away, he will leave the title of Lord Kildonan to an heir who does not care to inherit a single stick or coin from his father. Evan prefers his work in engineering. He designs bridges and docks, mostly on the east coast so far. A brilliant fellow, though he's the last to admit it. We attended university together, along with my cousin, Sir Aedan MacBride."
She nodded, having heard of MacBride's work in engineering along the byways of Scotland. Having financed some of the work herself, Meg knew more about Scottish bridge and road projects than Dougal Stewart could possibly imagine. "Mackenzie is an experienced diver as well," she said.
Dougal nodded and accepted a towel from Alan Clarke, wiping his brow and slinging the cloth around his neck. "Very competent, and an expert in the new science of geology. I asked him to come out here to advise me on the state of the foundation rock."
"Mr. Stewart is a master diver," Alan Clarke said. "There's none so skilled at it in all Scotland. 'Tis as if he were born to the sea. We can hardly keep him out of it, and though he's had his share of troubles in the water, he always goes back to it."
"Share of troubles?" Meg asked.
Dougal shrugged. "Shipwrecked, among other things. If you will excuse me, Miss MacNeill, I must change into dry clothing." He walked over the roof of the rock toward the strange iron barracks where Mackenzie had gone.
Shipwrecked.Meg narrowed her eyes, wondering if that was why Dougal Stewart was so adamant about building his lighthouse. Had he been involved in a wreck on the Caran Reef or perhaps lost someone to a tragedy?
He had assured her that they would talk, and she had dreaded it. Now she was impatient for the chance to learn more about him. So far, he had surprised her at every turn.
His behavior in the last few days did not reconcile with his prank seven years ago. Granted, she told herself, he must have changed in that time. She had changed, too, matured, and found a deep compassion for others and stronger respect for herself. And she could allow the possibility that what Dougal had done years ago, he might never do now.
But she could not forgive him so easily for the past.
Chapter 8
Dougal noticed the relieved glance Meg gave him upon his return, as if she hoped for a rescue from Alan, who had begun an enthusiastic lecture on the mathematics of lighthouse design. Apparently the islanders had heard enough about the calculated strength of the tower's height and mass, factored to the pounds-per-square-inch impact of a gale-force wave.
"Miss MacNeill, are there some questions I can answer for you?" Dougal had already begun to think of her as Meg—the simple, forthright name suited her well.
The wry flicker in her aqua-blue eyes told him that her true questions were not about the lighthouse. She tilted her head and regarded him. "I admit I have sometimes wondered what it is really like at the bottom of the sea," she finally said.
That, at least, he could answer. "Magical, really. Quite a different realm—peaceful, beautiful, fantastic. When the light is clear from above, the colors are very bright, and it's easy to see the coral formations and waving fields of kelp. The various fish and sea creatures are astonishing, too." He described a few of them. "It's exceedingly cold, so we wear several layers under the air-inflated rubber suits. And it's noisier than you might imagine," he added, smiling, "with the sounds of the waves and the scrape of corals in the current, and stones and rocks and so forth knocking about."
"It sounds fascinating and quite challenging—for those who like risk."
"I'm convinced that anyone could do this, given the right equipment, proper instruction, and a good crew up top to see to things. It's quite enjoyable, really. On sunny days, if the water is calm, it's possible to see the clouds and the sky through the water. Sometimes the stars and the moon can be seen, too, if the hour is late enough."
"If the Otherworld exists," she said, "it must be as fantastic as the depths of the sea."
"It might indeed. I believe there is a legendary place called Land-Under-Waves, said to be very beautiful."
She nodded."Tir fo Thuinn.Supposedly it lies somewhere in the deepest waters of the Hebrides. The inhabitants walk among us in human form, they say, so that we do not recognize them as sea fairies, selkies, kelpies, and the like."
"Interesting." He inclined his head, smiled at her.
"What were you doing under the waves?" the old man asked.
"Checking the rock bed to make sure the explosions did not damage it. A crack could appear or worsen once the weight of the stone tower is in place." Norrie nodded, then turned to ask Alan more about the explosions, which he had found fascinating.
Meg tilted her head. "Did you find anything?"
"Little enough underneath," he murmured, only for her to hear, "but a sea fairy was waiting on the rock when I came up." Meg blinked, and Dougal smiled, feeling warm toward her, affectionate, glad to know that she was real, after all. A strange coincidence of time and place had brought them together, and their desperate need for comfort had grown naturally to passion. But how the devil was he going to explain that he had mistaken her for a magical creature on what he thought was the last night of his life?
"Well," he said, picking up the thread of her question, "since the base of the rock is enormous, we have not yet finished our investigation. All looks stable so far, but I will not be satisfied until we have gone over every square inch."
"I wish I could go down there myself," Meg said.
