Page 38 of Taming the Heiress
Stepping out into sunshine, she answered the men who walked along the rocky slope near the cave. By the time Dougal stepped blinking into the light, she was halfway up the slope with them.
* * *
"Dirty weather coming," Norrie remarked, glancing in the distance as he pulled on the oars to make their way home again late in the afternoon. Alan Clarke, seated behind him and wielding a second set of oars, murmured agreement.
Meg turned. Over the western sea, towering dark clouds promised rain and winds before long. Although the sun had been shining for much of the afternoon on Sgeir Caran, now the rowboat plowed through waters that had turned rough and opaque green, and the wind had turned chilly. Sitting alone in the bow as they sailed back to Caransay, Meg drew her plaid shawl closer around her shoulders. Dougal and Mackenzie sat on the cross bench between her and the rowers. They, too, examined the sky.
"I hope the crew has the sense to leave the rock and cross now, rather than later," Dougal said. "I do not want them there if a large storm hits that rock." He looked grimly at Meg. Knowing what he meant, she glanced away.
"There's the crew, not too far behind us now," Alan remarked a moment later. "We could race them to the harbor."
"No racing," Dougal said curtly, and though Alan grinned, Meg wondered at Stewart's sudden irritableness.
Waves slapped the sides of the boat, and she reached to brush droplets from her skirt. As she did, she saw a huge fin thrusting through the water, gliding between their boat and the harbor.
"A basking shark!" she said, pointing. Dougal turned with Evan Mackenzie, and Norrie and Alan craned their heads. Then she noticed other sharks skimming below the surface of the water, four or five in all, their bodies easily as long as the boat.
"Ach, baskers are not much to worry about," Norrie said. "They have huge maws and tails as tall as my granddaughter, but no teeth to speak of. They eat plankton, not people." He winked at Meg. "Although they've been known to carry off a man now and then, if they're feeling testy."
"They do not usually come this close to the harbor," Meg said, glancing at the massive headland that contained Innish Harbor just ahead. "Oh, they are magnificent!"
"Ugly creatures," Alan muttered.
Reaching into the deep pocket of her skirt, Meg drew out her leather notebook and the pencil she carried with it. She opened to a blank page and began to sketch the nearest basking shark, though the bouncing ride sometimes jerked the pencil's path.
"Look there," Mackenzie murmured as the boat bumped over the agitated waves. "That lad's a bit small to be up there by himself, isn't he?"
"Iain! What the devil is he doing there?" Dougal asked.
Meg turned to see her son standing on the crest of the headland, waving his arms in excitement as he saw their boat coming toward the harbor. "Iain!" she said. "He loves to climb up there with the older children. But where is Thora? She would never let him go so high."
"Thora's on the beach," Norrie observed calmly. "She's going after him now. No need to fret."
Meg nodded, seeing Thora begin to labor up the rock. The climb was not difficult, but it was steep, and though Thora was strong, she was not a young woman. Iain jumped about, waving wildly, enjoying his freedom while it lasted.
Raising her arm, Meg motioned him back. "Iain!" she called, but her voice blew into the wind. "Get down from there!"
He leaped, skipped, flapped his arms and called out to them. Thora was nearly there, her skirts blowing, while she beckoned at him impatiently. Instead of obeying, the child ran a few steps away from her, stepping out on a crusty protrusion on the headland. Meg gasped and half stood in the boat.
Dougal placed a hand on her arm. "He'll be fine," he said. "She's nearly there."
Thora reached out for him, and Iain stumbled. He fell backwards into air, plummeting over the edge toward the sea, his small form pale against the massive dark headland.
Meg screamed, throwing aside her plaid shawl. In the same instant, Dougal stood too, and the boat rocked violently. He pushed Meg back as he ripped out of his coat.
"Stay here," he growled, and slipped over the boat's rim in a slick dive.
Mackenzie took her arm. "Easy, Miss MacNeill. Dougal will get the boy."
At Norrie's swift order, Alan lunged to grab the rudder, and together they turned the boat toward the headland. Mackenzie took the rudder then, and Alan joined Norrie to oar the boat swiftly through the rolling waves.
Ahead of them, Dougal cut through the water with strong, even arm strokes. Meg lunged toward the side, watching Iain's arm and head bobbing in the water. She cried out in agony, fearing Dougal would never reach the boy in time, although the man tore through the water.
When her son's head disappeared under the waves, she set her foot on the rim of the boat, ready to plunge into a dive herself, for she was a competent swimmer.
Mackenzie's hands went around her waist to tug her back. "Stay here," he said firmly. "Dougal will get him."
Hearing shouts, she saw that a few men had launched a boat into the surf from the harbor beach, while a gathering crowd stood watching on the sand. From the direction of Sgeir Caran, a boat carrying some workmen began to gain on them once the men realized what had happened.
