Page 90 of Taming the Heiress
"Thank you for keeping it to yourself," she said.
Evan released her hand. "Would I ruin my lady's holiday?" He smiled and turned to Dougal. "Whenever your marriage took place, sir, I can honestly say I am delighted. And the news of a secret marriage—and a secret child, am I to believe?—will simply delight everyone who hears it. I will certainly add my hearty approval of such a romantic circumstance to any who might care to hear my opinion." He fixed Matheson with a stare.
"Thank you," Meg breathed. "Thank you."
Evan then glanced at the black-clad, somber men who stood nearby. Most of them nodded, smiled, or murmured congratulations.
"Lord Glencarron?" Frederick demanded. "The son and heir of the Earl of Kildonan?"
"The very one, sir," Evan said. "And you are—?" Matheson sputtered while Meg introduced him. "You seem to be disappointed in the lady's marriage, Sir Frederick, though I have no doubt you are the sort of gentleman who can be gracious about it."
Matheson mumbled something, then turned on his heel and stalked off, accompanied by a few of the commissioners.
Evan turned to Dougal. "Are you ready, sir?"
"Aye," Dougal said, and he turned to Meg. "We're going down to look at the flaw in the rock."
"Now?" she said. "But the waves are picking up."
"Just for a few minutes," Dougal said. "I need to see it for myself, so that we can best decide what to do about it, if anything. I'll be right back, love," he said. "We can safely stay down for only ten minutes or so. You know that. Iain might find our diving venture quite interesting. If you'll send him along, we'll show him the gear as we're getting ready."
She nodded and watched him walk away with Evan. Frowning, she felt a heavy sense of dread in the pit of her stomach.
All seemed resolved with Frederick, who could not threaten her again. His objections and arguments had been laid to rest.
There was nothing to worry about, she told herself.
As the wind whipped at her skirts, she looked out to sea and saw how choppy and opaque the waves had become. Far to the west, the sky was gray and heavy.
And then she knew the source of her unease.
* * *
Gauntleted hands careful on the curving slope of the rock, Dougal followed its contours. The water was neither as clear nor as still as he liked for the task, but he could see well enough to judge the dimension of the flaw.
Evan pointed to a particular area, and Dougal made his way there, his steps clumsy, a strange slow dance to the click and cadence of the air that rushed in and out of his helmet valves.
Nearby, the two platforms that had lowered the divers banged rhythmically against the side of the rocky underwater hill. Higher on the incline, the single dressed stone that had tumbled into the sea was trussed with heavy ropes, ready to be craned back to the surface. Seeing that, Dougal realized and appreciated how much work his crew had done in his absence.
Turning back to check the rock face, he soon saw the long black fissure. It split the rock from well above his head to the ocean floor, which varied in depth here, rolling like the hilly land above the water.
He walked up the slope with Evan, so that he stood not far beneath the surface. He could easily see the dark mass of the rock rising above the water, could see a boat or two on the surface while waves rushed overhead. The water was flowing much faster, he noticed. They could not stay down long.
From the canvas bag at his belt, he removed a measuring tape made of oiled cloth and stretched it over the crevice. Floating there, tugged by the underwater currents even in his heavy weighted suit, he managed to estimate the length of the crack, moving hand over hand along the rock. Reaching his arm deep into the fissure, he realized it was nearly as long as his arm. A few small fish drifted out of the crevice, and he waved them away.
Making his way toward Evan, he caught his attention with gestures. Floating, sinking, Mackenzie measured the rock with Dougal, then signaled that they should go up to the surface.
Dougal returned a wave. He had seen what he needed to see down here. The split in the rock was large enough to be of some concern, particularly considering the weight of the gigantic tower that would be erected on its surface.
"Dougal." Alan Clarke's voice came through the speaking tube, surprisingly clear through yards of tubing.
"Aye," Dougal answered. "All is well down here. Up there?"
"A storm is brewing in the west. It will not reach us for an hour or more, Norrie says, but the wind and waves are strong. Come up. We are preparing to return to Caransay."
In the few minutes that he and Evan had been underwater, the water had grown murky as light faded above the surface, and the water currents had become strong and noticeably colder.
"Aye, Alan," he answered. "We'll come up."
