Page 95 of Taming the Heiress
"Iain, lad," he called. "Come here. Careful now—good. Keep away from the edge." He began to walk forward.
A blast of wind knocked Iain to his knees, and he cried out and scrambled back up. Then Meg saw a wave arching behind him, over him, and she reached toward him just as Dougal did the same, hurrying toward the boy.
A new wave surged upward and sucked back, pulling Iain with it, soaking him, drawing him into the sea. Dougal lunged forward, and Meg went with him as Iain scrabbled for a hold on the rock.
Then a blur went past them as a man plunged down the rock into the water to snatch the boy—Frederick was there, Meg saw, tossing Iain back in the spray toward Dougal, who caught the child up in his arms. Another wave arched and crashed, and the wind tore wildly, and as Frederick scrambled up the slippery rock, Meg stretched forward to grab at his hands. She missed.
"Take the child! Go!" Dougal called, shoving Iain into her arms and pushing them both higher on the slope. Then he stretched toward Frederick, grabbing his arms, hauling him back as the wild, swollen water washed heavily over them.
A moment later, as the spray cleared, Meg saw both men clambering to their feet. Hugging her son, watching her lover and her enemy approach together, she nearly sobbed in relief. They were all bound to one another now, she realized, obligated and saved, however unwilling the bond might be.
"Frederick—thank you," she said hoarsely.
He stared down at her, breath heaving. "Of course." He turned to Dougal. "Thank you, sir. I will not forget it—any of it. Neither of you need fear anything from me. I give you my word." He glared at them, then turned and slowly walked away.
With a little sob, Meg went into Dougal's arms, feeling his exhaustion, leaning against him even as he leaned on her, Iain snug between them. Dougal smoothed his hand over the boy's hair and touched his brow to Meg's while the wind and rain whipped at them.
She did not feel the sting of the rain—she only felt Dougal's strength, his caring spirit, with their son tucked safe between them. She only felt the warmth of Dougal's hand along her cheek as he cradled her face and kissed her, and she returned the kiss with fervor, with relief, with bliss. She filled to the brim then with warmth, with love, with a sense so enduring that nothing, no storm, no human, could weaken it.
That kiss ended and another began, and another, until she was laughing and tearful, until Dougal was chuckling against her mouth. He drew back and gave her a sweet, private smile.
And suddenly the wind lessened, the rain lightened, and as Meg looked up at Dougal in that strange, greeny, eldritch light, she realized how deeply, truly fortunate she was.
"The gift of the kelpie," she murmured, "has blessed us beyond measure."
Dougal tilted a brow, then nodded. "Let's go home, Mrs. Stewart," he said. "We need some rest. And we will dream a few more dreams, aye?" He touched Iain's golden head. "They do seem to come true."
Epilogue
April, 1858
"All the way up?" Iain asked, as he and his parents stepped into the shadows in the high, narrow stairwell.
"Straight to the top," Dougal agreed, as he shut the door to the lighthouse behind them. Turning, he smiled at Meg and Iain. "The lighthouse keepers and the commissioners will be here soon, but I wanted to take you two up before the ceremony begins."
"I will be first!" Iain said, as he scrambled up the steps ahead of Meg and Dougal.
Dougal held out his arm. "Mrs. Stewart? Are you sure you want to do this?" He knew that she much preferred her most recent title to that of Lady Strathlin, especially when they came to Caransay.
"Of course, but go ahead. You and Iain climb far faster than I can these days. I will take my time, I promise," Meg assured him, when Dougal hesitated, watching her. She placed a gloved hand on her expanding abdomen, hidden by the tented hem of her dark blue brocaded jacket.
"Come on!" Iain yelled down at them, hopping impatiently.
"Wait there, lad—and do not jump about, it makes your mother anxious," Dougal said. He bounded up the steps two at a time to meet Iain on the first landing of the long climb. Sweeping the boy onto his shoulders while Iain giggled, he turned again to be certain that Meg was having no difficulty.
She looked so beautiful, he mused, so graceful, every bit a baroness in her outfit designed by that English fellow in his Paris shop. A blue velvet bonnet was perched on her head, and her golden hair was twisted smooth beneath the drape of a short dark veil. Her rounded shape and full bosom only deepened his desire, his love, and his respect for her. Dougal liked best to see her hair gloriously loose and her clothing simple—as she herself preferred—but he was always proud of her when she adopted the elegant guise of Lady Strathlin.
Dougal wore the black suit he had worn to their small and quiet wedding, and Iain was dressed in a new outfit of brown velveteen, although the boy had protested loudly when Mrs. Berry had produced the thing. Meg had explained to him that everyone must look their best that day, for guests would arrive soon—a party of commissioners and investors would come over the water with Norrie and Fergus. Then the christening ceremony for the newly completed Caran Reef Lighthouse would begin.
Smiling up at Dougal, Meg waved him on. He climbed slowly, glancing back now and again. He knew that she was strong and healthy, and he was proud that she maintained a full schedule whenever they were at Strathlin Castle or the Edinburgh town house. Yet he felt a few anxious qualms about her welfare.
He had missed so much with Iain, and although he made up for that every day, he wanted to be part of the second child's life from the very beginning. He was determined to be available for Meg whenever she might need him, for he had failed at that years before. Recently he had turned down a chance to supervise a new lighthouse on a wild northern sea rock—there would be other opportunities for other light towers.
The birth was four months away, and already he was nervous as a cat. Thora tried to ease his fears, while Elga enjoyed teasing him a little. Both women told him that his apprehension was groundless, predicting that he and Meg would someday have a house full of strong and beautiful children.
"Let me open the door," Iain said, and Dougal set him down so that he could turn the gleaming brass knob in the oak door at the top of the stairs. While climbing, the boy had stopped a few times to open doors on the two levels below, peeking at bunks, kitchen, sitting room, and storage rooms.
Soon Meg joined them at the top, smiling, the faint flush in her cheeks brightening her beautiful aqua eyes, shining like the sea in sunlight. "It's not so very high," she said. "And I think the exercise is very good for me."
