“The colors are pale this time,” she said. “Sometimes they are quite brilliant when the Merry Men go dancing.”
“The sky is not dark enough. In fall or winter they would be brighter.”
“True. Will you still be on Caransay then?” She looked up.
“I hope the building will be done by then, but we will see. If so, we should walk out in the early hours to look for the lights again. If you like,” he added.
She did not answer, staring up at the magical glow. Dougal thought suddenly of the rainy shadows in a cave and the pink light of dawn glowing over this very girl’s face. He recalled how she had felt, drenched and shivering, in his arms as they comforted each other. His body pulsed.
“Tell me,” he said gruffly. “Are you sure we have never met before?”
She shook her head, and would not meet his eyes, though he watched her.
“Tell me,” he repeated. “Was it you that night, out on the rock? Or was it a dream?”
He noticed her gasp, saw the flash of understanding in her eyes. Though she continued to watch the sky, her silence seemed a clear admission. Then he saw tears glint in her eyes.
“My God,” he breathed. “Itwasyou.”
For a long moment, she stood in silence, arms crossed, shoulders rising in tension. Wishing he could ease her anxiousness, he fisted a hand against it and waited, heart thumping hard.
“Was that you, then?” she asked quietly. “Out on the great rock in a wild storm?”
“If we both remember that night, then aye. That was me. And that was you.”
“What were you doing out there?”
“I should ask the same of you. An accident brought me there. Capsized.”
“An accident,” she repeated. “Not—a prank?”
“Good lord!” he burst out, surprised. “Is that what you think? What were you doing out there, for all the world like Andromeda tied to the rock?”
“Oh, and you were Perseus protecting Andromeda from the sea monster?” she snapped.
A barefoot island girl who likely spoke better Gaelic than English, versed in Greek mythology? That intrigued him. “Something like that,” he said, huffing a little laugh.
She whirled. “Hardly amusing, sir.”
“You vanished. I could not find you.”
“You vanished first,” she said. “Gone off with your mates.”
He frowned, then dimly recalled the fishermen who happened by and took him off the rock. He had left her alone there, still in such a haze that he did not realize it until later. That had haunted him.
“I looked for you. I missed you,” he said.
“Missed me!” She tilted her face to him, arms crossed, cheeks flushed, eyes snapping bright. As he regarded her, all the years of wondering, wanting, dreaming, filled him and pushed him.
“Truly, I did.” He took her by the shoulders and leaned down, sliding his hands down her arms, drawing her closer. “Now here you are at last. Finally, I know your name.”
“Do you?” It sounded like a dare.
“Margaret,” he breathed. She leaned forward, not away. He lowered his head, close enough to nuzzle her brow, close enough to kiss, overwhelmed by the desire to pull her to him.
She stiffened in his arms, yet even so leaned her head back, closed her eyes. Silent, still, she seemed to wait. Tipping his head, Dougal touched her lips with his and gently kissed her.
Her lips softened beneath his, and she clutched at his shirtsleeves. He felt her body sway against his, sensed a moment of surrender and allowance there. Sliding his hand to the back of her waist, he pulled her close and deepened the kiss. She accepted it, gave a little moan of need. Perhaps she had missed him as much as he had missed her.
