Page 47 of Taming the Heiress
"I would miss him like my life," he said. "But it is good for a man to have an education. And the lad is smart. He read a story to me. Read it!" He smiled proudly. "I can sign my name and speak some English. But he can learn far more than I can ever teach him. What can I give him, but what I know about lobster fishing or the ways of the sea and the signs of the weather?"
"All that is just as important as a university education—even more so," she said fervently. "If, when he is older, he wants to go to school or to university, I will make it possible for him. For now, he is too young for anything but a tutor. He can learn from Mrs. Berry when we are on holiday here, and next year he can go to the village school. He should stay with you and the rest of his kin. Iain needs a family."
"But you are his—" He stopped, glanced around.
"He cannot learn the value of family by living with me in my cold and lonely castle, with only my servants and my advisers. And some of them are not very fond of children. Besides," she added, "where I live, he could not see the water each day."
Fergus nodded, still twisting his cap. "Now that is a sad thing. And yourself?" He looked at her. "Do you miss the sea?"
"Every day."
"And you miss Iain whenever you go back."
She gazed at Iain's golden head. "I miss him like my life," she whispered. "But he needs to be here."He is safe here.
"Someday there will come a time for you to take him. I have always known that," Fergus said.
"Someday," she agreed. "Not now."
Not for a very long time,she thought. In the outside world, Lady Strathlin would soon be forced to marry a banker and a minor baronet, a heartless man. In that household, she knew, her beloved little son would not be welcome.
Chapter 12
While several voices lifted in singing harmony around him, Dougal saw Meg and Fergus talking privately in a corner, their heads together, their discussion clearly serious. He wondered what troubled Meg that evening, for she had been preoccupied, even sad, in the midst of the revelry. He hoped she would at least confide in Fergus, who seemed a good friend to her.
Soon Fergus joined the others, and Meg led a sleepy Iain toward a connecting door. The boy sagged against her, and she bent to gather him into her arms. Dougal rose to offer his help.
"Let me take him for you, Miss MacNeill. He looks like a sack of grain. And you must be tired from such a long evening." He opened the door for her as he spoke.
She hesitated, then gave the boy up to him silently. Iain's head lolled on Dougal's shoulder, and small arms looped cozily around his neck. Meg led them through the door into a wing of the house. Camus nan Fraoch consisted of three croft houses joined together under one long thatched roof, each identical, only differing in their functions of main living area, kitchen and dining area, and what was called the sleeping room.
They entered a large room with low rafters, whitewashed walls, a stone floor, and two small windows. A hearth at one end blazed with a low peat fire. Through the shadows, Dougal looked around the sleeping room that the entire family shared with some privacy. Three curtained box beds lined the walls, and two small rooms were separated from the larger one by doors.
Meg shut the door, enclosing them in darkness and relative quiet. Being alone with her like this would have been shocking on the mainland. In the Isles, Dougal had seen more encouragement than suspicion when a young couple went off alone.
When Meg held aside a curtain to reveal a box bed, Dougal set Iain carefully inside. He stood back while she removed the boy's boots and knickers and tucked the linen sheets and woolen blankets over him. Sighing, Iain rolled over.
"Does he sleep alone in here?" Dougal asked. "Will he be frightened if he wakes later?" Thinking of the child's recent ordeal and the terrifying spectre of the shark in the water, he also remembered his own terrors and nightmares as a boy, when he would open his eyes in the darkness to realize that his parents were gone forever. Watching Iain, so small in the bed, those long-forgotten nights came rushing back to him. He glanced at Meg. "Should we stay here with him?"
She shook her head. "He will not be alone here. This is my bed at Camus nan Fraoch. I put him here for the night, though he has his own bed in the other room with Fergus, through that door, while Elga sleeps in the box bed over there. Small Anna's cradle stays near the door of the room that Thora and Norrie share, through there, so that we can all hear her if she stirs. Iain will not sleep alone for long."
He nodded, amazed at the close quarters, though he knew this was a common—even spacious—arrangement for Hebridean homes.
While they spoke, a small black terrier padded toward them through the open door between the rooms, a dog that Dougal remembered had dozed near the fireside during the ceilidh. Tail wagging now, it jumped up and leaned its paws on Meg's skirt at the knee. She bent to pet it, then assisted the little dog in jumping onto the boy's bed.
"Iain has a good nursemaid," Meg said affectionately, ruffling the dog's head. "That's fine, then, Falla. Just for tonight you may sleep with him. Thora does not like any of their three dogs to sleep on the beds," Meg added, "but Falla can guard Iain for now." The dog curled beside the sleeping child, and Meg closed the curtain.
Standing in the darkness beside her, Dougal felt overtaken by a lush blend of contentment and passion that rushed from heart to groin, smooth and fiery as whisky and cream. He flexed his hand, wanting to touch her, hold her, more—so much more he dared not think of that. Reaching out in the shadows, he took her elbow and turned her toward him.
"Meg," he murmured, amazed that his heart could pound so hard over touching her arm or saying her name. Fascination and physical excitement built in him, as if each time was the first time he touched her.
The curve of her cheek was a warm glow in the light of the peat fire, her hair a halo of rich, rippled gold. She waited, silent, expectant, watching him.
He sought for something to say, not yet ready to go back into the crowded room when he could be alone here with her. "The ceilidh has been a grand celebration. I am very grateful for it."
"We wanted to celebrate Iain's safety and show our thanks for what you did, Mr. Stewart."
"Dougal," he corrected, and he reached up to brush back her hair where it fell softly along her cheek. She watched him, did not protest. "Any man could have done what I did."
