Clarke gestured toward the edge. “They’ve got him now.”
Then Meg saw that another platform being hoisted up with a second diver. He rose to the edge and stepped out withassistance, wearing a similar suit and gear. An array of tools lay on the platform beside him. With help, he stomped forward, dripping water, to sit near Dougal Stewart.
“Two kelpies!” Norrie said. “We need not worry about the kelpies of Sgeir Caran. They are here!” His eyes twinkled.
“Kelpies?” Stewart asked, wiping a hand over his damp brow. Meg frowned.
When the second diver’s brass helmet was lifted away, he sucked in breaths, rubbing his face as Dougal had done. His hair was black and curling, his eyes a beautiful hazel, his cheeks lean and dusted with dark whiskers. He murmured to Dougal, and acknowledged Norrie and Meg with a polite nod as Stewart introduced them.
“Miss Margaret MacNeill and her grandfather, Norrie MacNeill of Caransay. This is Evan Mackenzie of Glencarron.”
“Pleased leased to meet you. Welcome to the rock.”
“Welcome out of the deep!” Norrie said. Meg could see herseanairwas enjoying this.
“Mr. Mackenzie,” Meg said. He looked familiar somehow. His answering smile transformed his lean and serious countenance. He looked at her so astutely that Meg wondered if he had met her as Lady Strathlin. She stepped back and turned to watch the sea and the birds flying around the rock.
When both divers were divested of their belts, heavy outer gear, and leaden boots, they stood as men, acting like they were knights in armor being assisted by their valets. Meg watched, noticing that they wore several layers of thick woolen underclothing beneath the suits, for the sea would be very cold. Evan Mackenzie was a bit taller than Dougal Stewart, slender and powerful. The two of them together were equally beautiful men. Meg caught her breath to see them.
Watching Dougal, she felt a ripple of feeling that was mysterious and exhilarating, some secret chemistry she couldnot deny, though she could pretend to feel nothing. Yet she thought of his appearance on the rock years ago, when he sat shivering and half nude beneath her plaid.
“Forgive me,” Dougal said, nodding to her, “for being improperly dressed.”
She shook her head. “Hardly improper here, where it’s part of this world.”
Norrie lifted a sleeve of the diving suit. “That’s a heavy thing to wear! Needs a strong man to stand up in this. What keeps the water out?”
“It is made of rubber sandwiched with waxed canvas,” Dougal explained. “Very heavy, aye, with lead boots and the belt and helmet and all, it is near impossible to wear on land. Underwater it’s not bad at all. The boots and lead weights on the belt help sink us and keep us down, or we’d float back to the surface too fast and suffer for it.”
“When a man goes doon the deep, he must come up slowly or he could die,” Clarke said.
“It sounds quite dangerous,” Meg said.
Dougal shrugged. “A bit.”
Alan snorted. “Very dangerous, miss. That is why Dougal Stewart likes it so well. He has a reckless streak. But when he dives, he must go slow and careful. No mischief.” He grinned at Dougal.
“Reckless, are you, sir?” Norrie asked.
“No more than others,” Dougal answered. His gaze sought Meg’s, a flash of green fire. She returned it directly, boldly.
“How deep can you go in that gear?” Norrie asked.
“A hundred eighty feet without difficulty. I’ve been down nearly two hundred, though it’s not generally done.”
“A man canna go deeper than that and live in this gear,” Clarke said.
Meg looked at him. “Do you dive, too, Mr. Clarke?”
“I leave that to Stewart and Mackenzie.”
She glanced at Evan Mackenzie. “You like the risk as well, then?”
He paused toweling his hair and smiled. “I suppose I do.”
“Mackenzie has been doon the deep and climbs high mountains too,” Clarke said.
“I prefer mountains. They tend to be drier,” Mackenzie said, while Dougal laughed.
