Page 45 of Taming the Heiress
"His father—" She drew a breath. "Fergus wants him to stay away from the water until he is older."
"Oh, now," Dougal said, teasing a little, bouncing the boy on his shoulders, "that would break the lad's heart. He's like me, I think. He's drawn to the sea. It's in his blood."
"Aye, in my blood!" Iain said giddily from his perch. He stretched his arms high and laughed as Dougal spun around once.
Meg stared up at them, still serious, and Dougal wondered again at her thoughts. "Well, his family tree is full of fishermen and seafarers," he said, feeling an urge to explain.
Instead of answering, she whirled and shouldered into the crowd. Hands resting on Iain's knees, Dougal watched her go. As Norrie started a slow, poignant fiddle tune, Dougal slid the boy to the ground and fetched him a cup of the fruit brose that Thora had prepared with cream, oats, and wild strawberries.
Watching Meg from across the room, Dougal wondered what the devil he had said or done to upset her.
* * *
"Miss MacNeill," Alan Clarke said later, turning to Meg, who stood nearby. The most recent song had just ended, and Norrie bent to adjust an off-tune string, which gave a narrow whine. "I admit to being curious about something. Is that Lady Strathlin over there?" Alan indicated two women who chatted with Thora and some fishermen's wives while they served food and drinks.
Seeing Mrs. Berry and the housekeeper from Clachan Mor, Meg hesitated. She had dreaded a question like this ever since her grandmothers had told Dougal that Mrs. Berry was Lady Strathlin. Now Dougal Stewart also waited for her answer. The resident engineer turned with interest, hearing his foreman's question.
"Oh," she finally said. "The tall lady is the housekeeper, Mrs. Hendry, and the other is Mrs.... ah, Berry, who is Lady Strathlin's... former governess and is now her companion."
"Mrs. Hendry and I have met," Dougal said. "But I have not met Mrs.... Berry?" His tone sharpened. Meg did not answer, looking carefully away from him. Though she had tried to stir up a better sense of joy for tonight's celebration, she harbored fear and guilt after her encounter with Sir Frederick a few days earlier.
"Everyone is here tonight but Lady Strathlin. Seems odd," Alan muttered. "Even such a high-and-mighty shrew as that one couldna fail to be moved by Iain's rescue."
"I assure you she was quite moved," Meg snapped.
"I'm sure she at least sent her respects to the family," Dougal suggested, as he stared thoughtfully at Mrs. Berry.
"I believe she did." Meg wanted to sink into the floor.
"I could swear," he said softly, "that Mrs. Berry was the lady who was pointed out to me on the beach as Lady Strathlin."
"Some women look alike," Meg said, "and some do not."
"Ah, true. So it seems that once more I have missed meeting the lady." Dougal looked at her over Alan's shoulder.
"It would seem so, Mr. Stewart," she replied. She dared to look at him.I am your shrewish baroness, Mr. Stewart,she thought boldly, watching him.And I need you very much just now.
He narrowed his eyes suddenly, as if he had understood her thoughts, and she flickered her eyes away, the risk too great.
"Och, she's probably here, guised as a fishwife while she observes the local peasantry in their habitat," Alan said. "The real Mother Elga is asleep in her bed, y'see, and that wee one there is Lady Strathlin, wearing auld Elga's plaidie." He grinned, and Dougal chuckled softly.
Scowling at both of them, Meg turned away, but Dougal leaned toward her. "Alan's joking. He means no harm," he murmured. The dark velvet of his voice shivered through her. "I'm almost certain the woman over there is your great-grandmother."
She pursed her mouth sourly at his jest and did not answer, while he gave her the subtle smile that he shared only with her—an impish curve to his lips, a green dazzle in his eyes that lingered after the smile vanished. He seemed more beautiful to her in that moment, more appealing, than she dared admit.
And Sir Frederick Matheson seemed even more dastardly for ruining her chances of true happiness.
She turned away to watch Iain dance between Peigi and Fergus, jumping and laughing. She remembered Dougal's sweet playfulness with Iain and his tender strength in rescuing a boy whom he did not even realize was his own son.
Sighing again, she touched her fingers to her mouth and realized that she was shaking slightly. She had hardly slept, had hardly spoken to anyone, pacing out long, solitary walks while she thought about Frederick's threats. His smooth, cruel words kept repeating in her mind. She would soon owe him an answer, and she faced an inevitable surrender.
Desperate, even hopeless, she felt as if her spirit beat its wings on cage bars. He had trapped her so smoothly, without lifting a hand. Somehow she had to resist the forced marriage and stop him from using his knowledge against her. She could not bear to live the rest of her life as Frederick's wife, living in fear that he would expose her youthful mistake and harm her son.
Nor could she bear the thought of living the rest of her life without Dougal. The other day, after mad kisses and breathless apologies, she had felt joyful just knowing that he had not played her falsely that night and that he cared for her. She had begun to hope that he could care for her as much as she did for him. For years, she had both hated and loved him, seeing his face in her son's, holding on to the dream of him while nursing the hurt.
As yet, she did not know his full explanation of that night; they had found no time for it. But the reasons did not matter as much as knowing and believing in his sincerity. Finally she could let that old hurt go, release it like water poured back into the sea. She was free of anguish at last.
Or so she had thought—until Sir Frederick had arrived.
