With a little sob, Meg put her arms around Dougal’s waist, sensing his exhaustion, propping him up even as he held her, little Sean snug between them. Dougal smoothed a hand over the boy’s golden hair, then kissed Meg’s head.
“We must go,” he said.
She nodded, but no longer felt the sting of the rain and cold wind. She only felt Dougal’s strength, his love, with their child tucked safely between them. She tipped her head for the warmth of Dougal’s kiss and returned it with relief, with love, with fervor. She felt full of love. Nothing, no storm or threat, could weaken that.
“Come on!” Norrie called from the rough-cut steps. Meg called a reply as she walked with Dougal, arms about each other, Sean safe between them.
In that moment, the wind lessened, the rain lightened, and the waves quieted a bit. A pale green, eldritch light cut through the gray clouds to touch the rock where they walked.
“The gift of the kelpie,” she said. “He calms the storm to give us a chance to get home.”
“Where is the kelpie?” Sean asked, looking around.
“Right here, lad,” Dougal said, laughing. “He has always been here. Let’s go home, my lady,” he added. “We all need some rest.”
“Rest, and dreams. Wonderful new dreams,” she said.
He smiled. “They do seem to come true. Coming, Norrie MacNeill!” he called, ushering his family down the steps to the waiting boat.
Epilogue
“All the wayup?” Sean asked as he and his parents stepped into the shadows in the high, narrow stairwell.
“Straight to the top,” Dougal agreed, as he shut the door to the lighthouse behind them. Turning, he smiled at Meg and Sean. “The lighthouse keepers and the commissioners will be here soon, but I wanted to take you two up before the ceremony begins.”
“I want to go first!” Sean scrambled up the steps.
Dougal held out a hand. “My love, are you sure you want to do this?”
“Of course, but go ahead. You and Sean move faster than I do these days. I will be careful, I promise,” Meg assured him, for he hesitated. She patted her expanding abdomen, hidden under the tented shape of her dark-blue woolen half cape. That casual gesture made his heart, his spirit, swell with love.
“Come on!” Sean yelled from above, hopping impatiently.
“Wait for us, lad, and do not jump about. It makes your mother anxious.” Dougal bounded up the steps two at a time to meet Sean on the first landing of the long climb. He paused to look back, wanting to be certain Meg had no difficulty climbing.
She was so beautiful, he mused, watching her. So graceful, every bit a baroness today in an outfit designed by that English fellow in the Paris shop, a jacket and skirt in dark-blue velvet with a bonnet of indigo blue perched on her golden hair, nowtwisted in a silvery net. Her rounded shape and full bosom, her slow steps as she ascended, deepened his love, his desire, and his respect.
To be sure, he liked best to see her hair gloriously loose and her clothing plain, her laugh free as she ran on a beach or on the machair. Today, she was elegant Lady Strathlin. He was equally proud of her, equally in love with her, in any guise.
He and Sean were dressed nicely today too; he wore the same black suit he had worn to their small wedding last year, and Sean wore a new outfit of brown velvet, even though the lad had protested when Mrs. Berry produced the thing. But Meg had explained that he had grown and needed a new suit.
“And besides, we must all look our best today,” she had told her son. “Guests will soon arrive to celebrate Papa’s new lighthouse on the Caran Reef. And we will christen the lantern.”
“And there will be music and dancing on the island later!” Sean had added proudly, allowing Berry to button his snug and fancy jacket.
Now, smiling up at Dougal, Meg waved him ahead. He nodded, knowing she was strong and healthy, but he would always keep watch. He knew how busy she was when at Strathlin Castle and the Edinburgh townhouse, though when she was at Caransay, she eased into a slower pace and took on the important work of islanders—fishing, weaving, caring for others, and continuing her beautifully illustrated journals.
Today, she was here as Lady Strathlin, about to christen the Caran Light.
In the past year, Dougal had learned to negotiate the changing rhythms of life as husband, father, engineer, whether on the mainland or on the island. For him, the constants were always Meg and Sean. Love did not change with outer responsibilities, and family was paramount.
Though some thought he took on much in marrying a wealthy young baroness, a radical change in his life, he knew it would be smooth and joyful, and so it was. His work increased, designing and consulting on lighthouse construction, and rather than involve himself in his wife’s business and wealth matters, as a husband might do, he knew Meg was capable and left it to her and her trusted advisors. Dougal gave his opinion when asked and helped as needed. But most of his focus, and hers, resided in their marriage, their life together, their love.
His other heartfelt focus was as Sean’s father, making up for what they had both missed, and being with his wife and children. Only days before, he had turned down an offer to build a lighthouse on a wild northern sea rock. Not yet for long, lonely weeks doing dangerous and exciting work; other opportunities, other light towers would come along. He needed to be with his family now.
“I will open the door!” Sean said, running ahead of Dougal up the stairs to the top.
Laughing, Dougal stood back while the boy turned the gleaming brass knob in the oak door to the lantern room. So far, they had paused at each level so Sean could open doors to peek at the kitchen, sitting room, sleeping quarters, and storage rooms.
