“Interesting.” He inclined his head, smiled at her.
“What were you doing down there under the waves?” Norrie asked, joining them.
“Making sure the explosions did not damage the rock bed. A crack could worsen once the weight of the lighthouse tower is in place.” Norrie nodded and turned to examine more equipment.
Meg looked up at Dougal. “Did you find cracks?”
“Nothing unusual at the base of the rock,” he murmured so low only she could hear, “though I found a sea fairy waiting on the rock when I came up.” He smiled, seeing her blink at that. He felt a warm rush of affection for her then, grateful to know she was real after all. But it remained for him to explain and apologize. How the devil could he explain to her that he had thought her some magical creature come to take a drowned sailor to the Otherworld?
“Did you,” she said sourly.
He wanted to move past that quickly. “The base of the rock is enormous, but we will take another look or two. So far, all looks stable.”
“I wish I could go down there to see what it is like,” she said.
“You, a wee lass!” Turning, Norrie gawked at her. “You would be drowned and swept away.”
“Or crushed by the weight of the gear,” Dougal drawled.
“I am a strong swimmer, and have done a fair bit of sea diving with my cousins when we were younger. We used to dive off this very rock. Surely remember,Seanair.”
“A different thing than going far down in heavy gear,” Dougal said. “Not easy for a lass. It takes muscle and strength.”
“This lass thinks all the world is open to her,” Norrie said with a wink. “And it is. If she wants it, she will get it.”
Seeing Meg scowl at her grandfather, Dougal thought the exchange rather odd.
“Though it could be possible,” Dougal went on. “You would need good gear and a lot of courage. But I would guess you have that.”
“Ach,” Norrie drawled. “That wee bit lass will do whatever she has the mind to do.”
“Though there are sea creatures that could carry off a wee bit of a lass,” Dougal said.
She looked at him sharply. “Kelpies?”
“Basking sharks.” What was this family’s fascination with kelpies?
“Ach, a basker wouldna take her,” Norrie said. “A kelpie, now—she had best watch out, especially on Sgeir Caran.”
“We should go,Seanair,” she said firmly, stepping away. “Mr. Stewart is too busy to entertain visitors for long.”
Without reply, Dougal held her gaze for a long moment until she looked away.
“Before we go,” Norrie said, “I want to hear more about the lighthouse. I canna say we will get back here again soon, with all this going on.”
Dougal nodded, and led them toward the crater. “We blasted this cavity—carefully, mind you—so that it measures eighty feet wide and three feet deep.” As he spoke, men swept away debris while others wielded hammers and chisels to trim the huge blocks of granite that would become the building’s foundation.
“The walls will be nearly nine feet thick at the base to hold fast against waves and storms,” Dougal went on. “We calculate the force of a strong gale against the mass and tonnage of the stone blocks. The curved base will further strengthen the structure.” He gestured wide. “Everything is meticulously planned, measured, and fitted so the stones create a tight drum. The design is like a round medieval tower. Even the heaviest waves wash and bounce off curved walls, just as arrows and cannon would bounce off round towers.”
“Ah. How tall will the thing be?” Norrie asked.
“One hundred eight feet to the roof, with a light beam that can be seen for nearly twenty miles on clear nights. Less so in fog and rain, but far enough to make a difference in bad weather. And we will install a bell to sound a warning in heavy fog. It should be finished by next summer.”
“Best hope that dirty weather willna take down your great tower,” Norrie said. “The storms on this reef are the fiercest you might see.”
“I know.” Dougal darted a glance toward Meg. He sensed her nearness like a flame.
She was quiet, but her cheeks burned pink, as if she had windburn or sunburn. But he knew she reacted to the remark about storms on the rock.
