“Not necessary.” She brushed her hands self-consciously over her plain skirt and dug her bare feet a little into the sand to hide her toes. “What are you doing here, Roderick?”
“Your grandfather brought me out. I saw him in Tobermory, and since I was in the Isles for a few days with Mother, I thought to come over to Caransay at your invitation, my dear.”
Puzzled, she looked down the beach to where a few fishermen worked on nets. A boat was sailing back from Sgeir Caran, she saw then, with several men inside. She wondered if Dougal Stewart might be with them. She noticed Norrie on the beach, watching the sea.
“My invitation?” She realized then he would not have received her reply to his note. Perhaps he had misunderstood silence to be agreement. “Now that you are here, I hope you will enjoy our little island for a few days.”
“A pretty place.” He looked around, gloved hands folded on his cane. He was stiff and proper, and wholly out of context on that beach. “I thought you might appreciate some intelligent company here, with little to do but watch the sea and…play in the sand.” He glanced toward Sean, who was digging a hole with a sizeable shell. “I hope you are taking care of your skin. My mother says fine pale skin is one of a woman’s best assets. Youhave some color from the sun, and a few freckles. She will not be pleased.”
Her hat hung down her back on a ribbon. She did not put it on, and thought of the almond cream his mother—a very opinionated woman—had sent. “How kind of your mother to think of my complexion. Will you be staying long?” She hoped not. “I will have my housekeeper make up a room for you.”
“I only came out for the day. Norman MacNeill will arrange for someone to take me back to the Isle of Mull. Mother and I are staying at the resort at Tighnabruaich so she could relax. But I wanted a chance to speak with you.”
“How kind of you to think of me.” She wished he had stayed on Mull.
“Walk with me, my dear.” He offered his arm.
She did not take it, though she walked beside him. In her bare feet, she soon fell out of step with his stride. In the past several months, he had gone from helpful cousin and banker to showing an eager interest in her that she found unsettling. Wanting to bring up the subject of their supposed engagement, she wanted to go about it without hurting his feelings. He seemed sincere, she would give him that.
Glancing down the beach, she saw the boat draw in, and Dougal Stewart disembarked with the others. She knew him from a distance, recognized every nuance of the way he moved, with ease and confidence. His shoulders were broad in a linen shirt and dark vest, his hair gold-streaked in the sunlight. He shaded his eyes and looked down the beach, then lifted a hand in a brief salute.
Her heart leaped a little at that small, private gesture.
“Did that man just wave at you?” Roderick asked.
“Did he?” She shrugged.
“Forward! How long do you plan to stay on the isle this time, my dear?”
“I am not sure. A week or more. The weather has been mild, and it is so peaceful here that I am not eager to return to Edinburgh.”
“You’ve had some excitement lately, from what Mr. MacNeill said. A child was rescued—quite a daring feat, from what your grandfather said. His own great-grandson.” He tipped a brow at her.
She said nothing. Of course Roderick did not know about Sean. Someday she would have to tell him, but so far had never found enough reason to go into detail.
“Quite a daring rescue,” he went on. “This Mr. Stewart who is determined to build that dreadful lighthouse is something of a daredevil, from what I hear. He made another such rescue last year, apparently. Some men simply must act the hero.” He sighed.
“Another rescue?” she asked.
“He saved some men working on a bridge that collapsed, I think. But I am sure there were plenty of others there to help. Perhaps he just likes having the credit.”
“We are all grateful to Mr. Stewart. If not for his quick action, Sean might have drowned.”
“That little fellow over there?” He looked back at the child playing in the sand. Sean, looking up, picked up a large shell and followed. Since his rescue, he had not wanted to be far from Meg.
“Aye,” she answered. “He is…kin to us here on Caransay.”
“Margaret.” Roderick took her elbow in a tense grip. He stopped, turned to face her.
He was very tall, the black top hat making him tower over her. His side-whiskers were shaped in the long fashion called Dundrearies. She did not find such hairy feathering attractive, preferring Dougal Stewart’s simple habit of shaving every few days, so that his dark whiskers evenly shaded the planes of his face in a very becoming way.
“Roderick,” she said, “you did not come out here simply to stroll with me on a beach. What is it? Are there banking matters to discuss?” She hoped it was only that.
“The lady is clever and perceptive,” he said fondly. “Lady Strathlin—Margaret. I came to speak with you about a matter of tremendous importance. It simply could not wait for your return to Edinburgh.”
“I, too, have something I wish to speak to you about.”
He covered her hand with both of his. “Shall I hope?” he whispered. “Shall I allow my heart to beat with the rhythm of adoration and deepest affection?”
