Reluctantly, Meg sat. Since the bench barely held two, her skirts fell over Dougal’s long, muscular thigh, and her armbrushed his. The mingled scents of rain, wind, and a hint of the flowery machair clung to him. He radiated strength, warmth, security, intimacy too; he hardly looked at her, yet she felt keenly aware of him, body and soul. Her breath came faster, though she sat still and silent beside him.
While he chatted with her grandparents, she glanced at the letters under his hand. The topmost envelope, she saw, was from her solicitors, Dundas and Grant. Dread plunged through her. The lawyers intended to find a way to stall the work on the lighthouse, just as she had requested. She had not received a new report yet, for Norrie had no mail for her on this run, but she assumed that Dundas and Grant wrote to notify Dougal of a new threat to his work.
“I am thinking we do need a lighthouse out there,” Norrie was saying. “I am glad you are doing the work.”
Meg roused at that. “But,Seanair, you have always been against the lighthouse.”
“For a while, I agreed with Lady Strathlin, who wants the isle kept private and the rock kept sacred.” Norrie pulled on his pipe and gave Meg a meaningful look. He pointed toward the window and the bay beyond. “Now I am thinking the lighthouse will help out there and be not much bother to us after all once it is up. That wicked reef needs a light, and no question.”
“The lighthouse could be placed anywhere on that reef,” Meg said.
“The light on Sgeir Caran would illuminate the whole of the reef, Miss MacNeill,” Dougal said quietly. “Other locations here are partially submerged in high tides. Lighthouses can withstand such conditions, but it is not my preference to risk it.”
“It is not his preference,” Elga repeated precisely. “He likes Sgeir Caran.”
“It is the best location,” Dougal agreed.
“Besides, it is an honor to have the resident engineer staying on Caransay,” Norrie said. “The one who saved our wee lad.” Meg scowled at him.
“Mr. Stooar is always welcome here,” Elga said. “And so we like his lighthouse.”
“Many ships have gone down on that reef,” Norrie said. “The tidal flow between those rocks can spin a ship around and suck it down quickly. I have seen too many wrecks there.”
“We never want to see another wreck,” Thora agreed.
“You have witnessed some?” Dougal asked.
“Aye, we have,” Norrie said. “God save us, it is an awful thing to see. We tried to help the poor souls, but there is little that men can do against a powerful storm. We saved too few souls over the years. It breaks the heart.”
“You have rescued people from shipwrecks?” Dougal sat forward.
“Ach,aye, me and my kinsmen, and our fathers before us. We did what we could if we saw a ship foundering out there. My grandfather and great-grandfather and some before them were wreckers, I am ashamed to say. Some of them wanted ships to break apart on the rocks.”
“Wreckers still do their work in the Isles,” Dougal said.
“It is not done on Caransay any longer,” Meg said.
“But it was done here long ago,” Norrie said. “Many relied on wreckage to bring goods into their homes and money into their pockets. Some even lured ships this way with lamps and fire signals. The wood that made this table and that cupboard came from ship timbers salvaged in my great-grandfather’s time,” he said. “But my father never wrecked, nor did we. The screams, the groans of the ship, the prayers shouted to God. It is an awful thing, so we must help.”
“I am sure you did your best,” Dougal said.
“The times it has happened, we have rowed out as far as we dare, and throw out ropes to survivors in the water, though the waves tried to take us as well. Too many ships go down there, I tell you.”
“Do you recall,” Dougal said slowly, “a wreck about eighteen years ago? A ship called thePrimrosewent down there.”
“Primrose.”Norrie sent a small puff of smoke out of his pipe. “I recall that name. Many were lost that night, though we rowed out. The inspectors came to the island afterwards and said the ship was thePrimroseout of Glasgow, sailing up to Skye with people on holiday.” He sighed.
“That’s the one,” Dougal murmured.
Meg felt a surge of compassion, of love, and nearly reached out to touch his hand, resting on the table.
“It was a sad thing. A black storm blew out of the west suddenly and took the ship down within minutes.” Norrie shook his head. “We did our best.”
“Thank you, Mr. MacNeill,” Dougal said.
“Have you a particular interest in that one, then?” Norrie asked.
“My parents were on that ship. I was home with my siblings. I was thirteen.”
