Page 100 of Laird of Storms
“What do you mean?”
“He wanted it to go up when I wanted it to come down. Yet now I see that this light is truly a beautiful monument, a lantern that honors the lives of those lost in these waters—while it also shines on the future.”
“And now,” he murmured, “we can hope that no more lives will be lost on this reef. That makes the future even brighter, my love.” He pulled her closer, dipping his head to kiss her cheek under the tilted brim of her bonnet. For a moment, his throat tightened and he could not speak.
“I wish,” he added, “my parents could have known you. They would have loved you and Sean, and the new little one, and our life here.”
She smiled up at him, tears glazing her eyes.
“They are here!” Sean said, jumping up and down, hands pressed to the window glass.
“Good!” Dougal said. “But the winds are picking up. We’ll have a storm before long.”
“We need to finish this ceremony before it sweeps in,” Meg said. “Though I would not mind being stranded with you again on this rock, Mr. Stewart.” She smiled up at him so fetchingly that he felt desire spin inside of him.
“I would not mind it either,” he said. “Someday, we could try that again.”
“Not now!” Setting one hand on her son’s head and the other high on her abdomen, she laughed in delight. “Though today I do not relish the thought of spending the day in the company of lighthouse commissioners.”
“They will probably try to solicit more funds from Lady Strathlin, who has been so generous. Be strong, lass.” He grinned. “The ceremony will be quick. We will go back down to cut a ribbon at the door, smash a bottle of whisky, and share a dram from another bottle.”
“No whisky for Sean and me! Berry sent a fruit brose for us to drink.”
“Look!” Sean said, pointing. “Do you see them? There! There!”
“See who, dear?” Meg asked, turning with Dougal.
“The water horses! On the water, see! Theeich-uisge,many of them, coming this way!”
“What?” Meg gazed in the direction where her son pointed.
“What do you see out there, lad?” Dougal asked.
“White horses in the water!”
Narrowing his eyes, he watched the moving sea. “Wave curls,” he said. “The white foam on high waves can look like horses.”
“Dougal, look again,” Meg said. “The kelpies are here.”
He saw them then, the prancing shapes of a legion of white horses, hooves pounding, manes spilling down as they moved forward, rising and dipping with the waves, heads proud, bodies racing. He watched, entranced.
“I do see it,” he said. “Just where the light comes through the cresting waves.”
“Kelpies!” Sean laughed with delight as Dougal scooped him up to give him a better view.
“They are giving their blessing to the lighthouse,” Meg said. “Sean saw them first. He has the magic of seeing the water horses. And so he should!” She smiled up at Dougal. “He is the son of the most wonderfuleach-uisgeof them all.”
“I am what?” Sean asked, looking up.
“Son of a kelpie, and do not forget it,” Dougal said, laughing. He drew them close, his son and his wife and the small one she carried, tucked them in his arms, and closed his eyes in silent thanks. Waves of love poured through him, magical, powerful, so real.
Meg tilted up her head and he kissed her lips tenderly.
“Stop kissing,” Sean said, wrinkling his nose.
“We should go downstairs now, my dear baroness, my lovely lad,” he said. “It is time to welcome our guests to the new Caran Light.”
