Taming the Heiress

by Susan King

  She laughed, a watery burble. "But what about Frederick?"

  He held her for a moment, considering. Then it came to him like a sunburst of pure thought, illuminating, exhilarating. "Why, Mrs. Stewart," he said, drawing back to look down at her, "we've been married for seven years."

  Meg gaped at him. "We... Oh! The rings!" She nodded. "My grandmothers do say there is an old custom of self-made marriage in Scotland."

  "I've heard of it," he said. "I believe all a couple has to do is declare their love and exchange rings, and they are considered married without benefit of clergy or even witnesses."

  "But we did not declare our love."

  "Madam, I rather think we did." He dipped down to kiss her. "And Iain is the proof of it."

  "You would be willing to tell Frederick this?"

  "I would be delighted." He gathered her close. Then he gasped, remembering something. Meg pulled back to look up at him. "The train," he said. "I forgot. I have to get to the train." He let her go, took her hand to pull her toward the door.

  "Dougal, surely you can miss the train, after all this," she said. "Take the next one."

  "No," he said firmly, tugging her along. "I agreed to be back on Sgeir Caran tomorrow. There is a meeting assembling there of some lighthouse commissioners and a few investors."

  "Stay the night," she said. "Take the morning train."

  "I have to go." He stopped, looked down at her. "Sir Frederick Matheson is in that party."

  "Dear God," she said. "Iain is on Caransay, and Frederick hates you and me just now!"

  "Exactly what I was thinking," he muttered grimly as he pulled her with him through the library.

  "I'm going with you," she insisted.

  "No. Stay here. Let me take care of this."

  "I'm going with you. Mr. Hamilton!" she called as they entered the hallway. "Mr. Hamilton! Mrs. Shaw!"

  "No, Meg," Dougal said, spinning her to face him. "The fellow could be very dangerous. I will not allow you to go!"

  "Allow me?" She stared up at him indignantly.

  "I do not want you to go, madam," he amended, speaking through clenched teeth.

  Guy Hamilton appeared in the foyer from a side door with Mrs. Shaw just behind him. "Madam, what is it?" he asked.

  "I need a ticket for the Edinburgh to Glasgow train," she said. "And Angela, if you please, I need a satchel of clothing and a traveling cape and some things for a train journey. Oh, do hurry!" Mrs. Shaw nodded and grabbed her skirts, rushing up the steps, and Guy went at a half run into the library.

  "Buy the ticket when we get to Waverley Station," Dougal grumbled. "And wear whatever your grandmother can lend you. We have no time—we must go."

  "I do not handle the cash. Mr. Hamilton handles the cash."

  "I will pay for the blasted ticket myself," Dougal said.

  "And he makes all my travel arrangements. We'll need a carriage brought round, too," Meg called over her shoulder as Dougal pulled her toward the door.

  "We can take your carriage from here, but I have already hired a carriage from Glasgow to Oban, and all the rest. You'll have to travel with me—as my wife, I suppose," he said.

  "I suppose that would be fine." She glanced up at him.

  "Good. Here comes Mrs. Shaw," he said, as the young woman ran down the steps with a tapestry satchel in one hand, something cotton and lacy spilling from it. Dougal rushed over, grabbed it from her while thanking her, and ran back to the door where Meg waited.

  The butler appeared from the shadows to open the door for them, and Guy rushed out of the library with a wallet in his hand, which he pressed into Meg's hands. "I think this will be sufficient for the trip, madam," he said. "If you need more—"

  "I will take care of her expenses," Dougal said. "Thank you, and good day."

  Meg embraced Mrs. Shaw, who then draped a black half cape on Meg's shoulders and helped her fasten a little black bonnet on her head and pull on gray kid gloves.

  "Madam, you will need an escort," Mrs. Shaw said. "I'll gather my things."

  "I have an escort. Mr. Stewart... is my husband."

  "He's what?" Hamilton and Mrs. Shaw stared at her. "When?"

  "We're married," Meg said, her cheeks flushed, "and we've been so for a very long time." She looked up at Dougal, who smiled. "It was a well-kept secret."

  "Very well kept," Hamilton said, frowning.

  "We'll renew our vows with a ceremony," Dougal added, "just as soon as we return from the Isles."

  "Farewell," Meg said, and Dougal pulled her out the front door while her assistants and her butler gaped after them.

  As they hastened through the yard toward the stables, Dougal took her arm. "I'm glad you're going with me after all."

  "I want to be there when you confront Sir Frederick about the evil rumors he plans to spread."

  "I'm referring to the hours of travel time we have ahead of us, when you will tell me all about the past seven years," he answered as they rushed along. "I want to know about Iain's birth. I want to hear everything—what he was like as an infant and as a smaller boy. What he said, what he did. I want to know what I've missed as our son was growing."

  Meg slipped her arm around his waist, and he encircled her shoulders and hugged her to him.

  "Now let's hurry," he said as the driver brought the carriage out of the coach house, "and find our son."

  Chapter 22

  "Out to the hard place, you say," Norrie said, "and you just coming in from Tobermory the now?" He worked the rudder as he spoke, with full sail unfurled on his fishing boat while a fast streaming wind moved them toward the Caran Reef.

  "Aye, Norrie MacNeill, out to the hard place straightaway," Dougal answered. "I need to go to the sea rock immediately, but I want you to take Meg back to Caransay with you."

  "I am going with you," Meg protested. She leaned toward him as she insisted, clutching her half cape at its buttoned collar. The journey to the Western Isles by train and carriage had taken so long that the day had grown dark, and she and Dougal had spent the night at the resort hotel in Tighnabruaich—as Mr. and Mrs. Stewart—and while the sweet joy of those hours with him lingered in her body and her heart, the urgency of traveling to the Isles as quickly as possible had not changed.

  "You are not coming with me," Dougal said.

  Norrie lifted a brow. "I am thinking that everyone is wanting to go out to the hard place today," he muttered.

  Meg exchanged glances with Dougal. "Everyone?"

  "Who else went out there?" Dougal asked sharply.

  "A steamer came to Mull yesterday," he said, "with a group of men dressed all in black. They were wearing tall hats—like ravens, they looked, and ready to feast on your lighthouse, I am thinking."

  "Quite possibly," Dougal said.

  "They stayed the night in Tobermory and sailed out to the rock this morning. I saw them when I was there. The fellow who owns Guga was with them, the one who has come to see you, Margaret."

  "Sir Frederick," Meg said quickly.

  "He's the one. He said he saw you both on the mainland and that Dougal Stewart would know that he and the other gentlemen were going out to inspect the rock today. He said you might be along later, Mr. Stewart. A good thing I was still in Tobermory, fetching the mail from the mainland steamer, so that you did not have to hire a fisherman to take you over to the hard place," Norrie added pragmatically.

  "I'll go with you out to the rock," Meg told Dougal firmly.

  "You will not, Meg," he answered.

  "Meg, is it?" Norrie asked mildly, hand resting on the rudder. He smiled a little. "If you're calling her Meg, you are now good friends, I am thinking." His blue eyes glinted.

  "More than good friends, sir," Dougal said. "And she's not going out to the rock."

  "I am," she said. "I must."

  "Well, everyone wants to go to the rock. Wee Iain was a happy lad because Sir Frederick let him sail with them—"

  Meg gasped. "Iain is with them?"

  "What t
he devil!" Dougal growled.

  "Ach, the young one came with me to Tobermory this morning, and he wanted to ride the steamer ship back again, since all the men were on it, so he and Fergus went with them. Sir Frederick said it would be all right and that we could all trust him with the care of the lad."

  "Thank God Fergus is with him, at least," Dougal murmured.

  "I am going out to the rock with you," Meg said, and she looked at Dougal. "And no doubt of it."

  "Aye, then," Dougal agreed, frowning, while Norrie grunted in amusement. Meg realized with relief that her grandfather did not suspect Frederick might scheme to harm anyone.

  She reached over to clasp Dougal's hand, his answering grip strong on her gloved fingers. They rode in silence, the waves splashing against the sides of the boat as Norrie shifted the rudder to speed them through the currents.

  She drew a deep and anxious breath. Ahead loomed the long, distinctive shape of Sgeir Caran. As they drew closer, she saw the dark shapes of men moving about on top of the rock, although she could not identify anyone from this distance.

  Soon Norrie took up the oars to guide the boat slowly and carefully through the treacherous path of the reef as they approached Sgeir Caran from a southerly direction. He concentrated on his task, and no one spoke. Meg watched the powerful surges and eddies as the water sliced and swirled through the maze of upthrusting and submerged rocks, and she glanced anxiously at Dougal. He smiled, quick and somber, and squeezed her hand.

  * * *

  The black bulk of the rock soon loomed over them, blocking much of the daylight in its shadow. Norrie drew in beside the quay, boat rising and falling with the slop of the waves. Two men came down the steps to assist them, one of them Alan Clarke.

  "Hullo!" Alan said heartily as he assisted them onto the stone quay. "It's good to see you, Miss MacNeill! What a pleasant surprise." He turned to Dougal. "You're back just in time, sir."

  "I know," Dougal said as they climbed the steps cut into the rock. Norrie came with them, as well, refusing mildly to turn back to Caransay; Meg realized that her grandfather's acute perception and natural curiosity had alerted him to the tension that she and Dougal felt. "I hear we have visitors."

  "Oh, them," Alan said. "They want only to look at what we're doing. Thinking of contributing to the funds for this lighthouse and future projects, so it's a verra good thing."

  "Indeed?" Dougal turned to look at Meg, who frowned.

  "Though it's an inconvenience to have them here at such a time," Alan continued.

  "Such a time?" Dougal asked. "I assume you've been working on the repairs following that gale just before I left."

  "Aye, we've cleaned up a good bit o' the damage and repaired what we could. We've retrieved all but one of the stones that were swept into the water, and that one is roped and ready to bring up. But there is a problem with the rock beneath the water, sir," Alan said. "Evan Mackenzie went doon the deep to check the rock after our repairs—we were bringing up those dressed stones that fell, too—and he discovered a crack in the foundation stone."

  "What!"

  "Aye, sir. A sizeable fissure, from what he says. He'll be glad to see you're back, as will the rest of the men. Evan has been anxious to go doon to have a better look at it and to begin measures to shore it up. I hope you recovered some funding. We'll need it. Evan thinks we're going to need to build a sea wall."

  Dougal swore and began to ask Alan further questions. As they reached the topmost surface of the rock, Meg felt the wind push over the plateau, whipping her cloak and skirt.

  Evan Mackenzie called a greeting and hastened toward them, and Dougal ran to speak with him while Norrie, Alan, and other members of the work crew gathered around.

  Meg turned and saw that a group of men in dark suits and hats, some with canes, all of them looking out of place on the sea rock, were strolling around the foundation cavity. Sir Frederick Matheson stood in the midst of the visitors. His gloved hand clasped Iain's as the boy walked beside him.

  "Iain!" she called, running forward, skirts billowing. Seeing her, the boy broke free and ran to her. She caught him in her arms, dropping to her knees to embrace him, her heart pounding. Straightening, she looked up at the man who approached.

  "Sir Frederick," she said coolly.

  "Why, Lady Strathlin, what a fetching picture. And rather surprising to see you out here in such a wild place."

  She touched Iain's shoulder. "Might I ask why you are here, sir?"

  "I am interested in contributing funds to the lighthouse," he said. "I came out with some members of the Northern Lighthouse Commission, who wanted to see the progress on this rock."

  "But, Sir Frederick," she said pointedly, "to my knowledge, you have no funds to contribute. You've been borrowing from me for the last three years. I must wonder why you are making promises to the lighthouse fund. Have you some other source of wealth?"

  "Well, to be honest, madam, I expect to be married soon to a very wealthy baroness. Please don't tell me that you have changed your mind, Margaret. That would be so... unpleasant." As he smiled, he reached out to touch Iain's golden head.

  She pulled the boy away from him, hiding Iain partly behind the fullness of her skirt and petticoats. "I have most definitely changed my mind," she said. "I will not marry you, Frederick. In fact, I cannot marry you, ever. It would be impossible."

  He glowered down at her. "You gave me your promise."

  "The lady is already married," Dougal said, striding toward them. "Good day, Sir Frederick." He tipped his hat.

  "She's what?" Frederick barked out. "What a preposterous thing to say. And what would you know about it?"

  "I am her husband," Dougal said, shifting his arm so that Meg could slip her hand in the crook of his elbow, a natural gesture of familiarity. She tilted her head prettily.

  "And I am his wife," she said.

  "That's impossible," Frederick muttered. "I left you only a few days ago! You scarcely know each other."

  "We were married years ago," Dougal said, glancing down at Meg, "in a simple Hebridean ceremony. We were... estranged for a while. But we have happily resolved our differences."

  "I refuse to believe that. If you think to save the lady from the embarrassment she has earned, sir, it will not suffice. I suppose you know whose child that is."

  "Aye, we all know whose child that is," Norrie said, walking up to them. "Come here, lad," he said to Iain. "Fergus is over there looking for you. Run and see what he wants." Iain took off.

  "Walk," Meg called without thinking. "He did not mean run!"

  "That lad," Norrie said, looking at Frederick, "is the child of my granddaughter and her husband, this fine fellow, Mr. Stewart, who was a visitor to our reef and our island several years ago. They were wed then, as they told you. I am thinking all of Caransay's residents will be ready to swear to that."

  Meg looked at her grandfather, smiling through sudden tears. "Yes," she said, turning back. "All of them will swear it."

  "Though we are waiting for another ceremony to renew those vows," Norrie said, looking hard at Meg and Dougal.

  "Preposterous," Frederick said. He turned to the crowd gathering around them, made up of lighthouse commissioners and workmen, including Alan and Evan. "This is absurd!"

  "It's true," Meg said. "I have known my husband for a long time. We met years ago on this very spot." Meg smiled at Dougal, her hand snugged in his arm.

  "We could not tell anyone before this," Dougal said. "We kept it secret, for it was an awkward situation until we decided that we could carry on with our marriage."

  "Congratulations, Lady Strathlin," Evan Mackenzie said.

  "Lady Strathlin!" Alan Clarke exclaimed. Dougal leaned forward to murmur a fast explanation while Alan gaped at her.

  Evan bowed to Meg, and she offered her hand. "Your husband is a fine man, and a lucky one, too," he said.

  "Ah, thank you, Lord Glencarron," she said, as Evan kissed her gloved knuckles. "How very nice to see you again
."

  "And you, madam," he murmured. "Meg, I've known you from the first," he whispered, smiling, his lips close to her glove. "I saw you at a concert last year in Edinburgh, and I never forgot bonny Lady Strathlin."

  "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.