Taming the Heiress Read Online Free PDF Page B

for the legends. She nodded.
    "He is not a bad fellow, this Stewart," Norrie said. "I have nothing against the man. It is the construction I do not like, for the harm it causes the great rock and the island."
    "I am concerned about the colonies of seabirds and wildlife that settle on that rock each year," Meg said. "And we value our privacy—" She stopped suddenly.
    Dougal Stewart turned, and she saw his face clearly then.
    Never in her life had she fainted. But now she felt the world reel under her feet. She placed a hand on Norrie's arm.
    "What is it?" he asked.
    "I—I nearly tripped. That's all."
    She expected a handsome man, a devilish, infuriating, obstinate man, the heir to a Strathclyde fortune. A builder of lighthouses, a man who easily did what took courage and daring.
    But she had not expected to see the very cad who had fathered her child years ago and had broken her heart forever.
    He frowned, his gaze intense and penetrating. Did he recognize her? Oh God, she thought. Please, no.
    Drawing closer, she knew he was the man she had met years ago. She would never mistake that face or the lean, stern toughness of him, so rugged, casual, masculine.
    Dark brown hair fell in sun-streaked waves, framing a face with straight dark brows above lean features. His coat was dark umber, trousers and vest black, and he wore a collarless shirt that opened slightly to show a strong, tanned throat.
    He straightened as she approached, staring, eyes searing her own. Meg lifted a hand to the locket at her throat. She drew her plaid arisaid shawl over her hair to shadow her face as she walked toward the water's edge beside her grandfather.
    He must not recognize her. She could never bear it. Her legs quivered—how foolish she would be, now, to reveal that she was Lady Strathlin. She desperately wanted to run.
    "Grandfather," she said urgently. "Please do not say who I am. Tell the others to keep it a secret too. My argument with Mr. Stewart belongs with my lawyers, not here on Caransay."
    "We will let it wait," he assured her. She nodded in relief.
    Dougal Stewart stepped forward and held out his hand. "Mr. MacNeill! Good to see you, sir." He smiled at Meg and nodded, his eyes inquisitive, narrowed, attentive.
    She prayed he would not know her. With her skirts hiked over her bare calves, her sleeves rolled, in the shawl of a native Isleswoman, she looked like many other women. In seven years she had changed, matured. A trusting girl no more.
    He was still strikingly handsome. Sun and years had etched around his eyes and into the slight creases beside his mouth. He had filled out some, heavier, more powerful. His eyes, edged in sooty black lashes, were the muted gray-green of a stormy sea.
    Oh God, she thought. Was he still capable of deceitful tricks, too? Of course he was. She could not trust this man.
    He smiled at her, waiting for an introduction. Meg lifted her chin defensively. She would not succumb. He had hurt her deeply, and she would not forget it.
    "Good day, Dougal Stewart," Norrie said in English. He nodded to the second man, whom Meg had hardly noticed. "Alan Clarke. This is my granddaughter, Margaret Fiona MacNeill. Margaret—Mr. Stewart and Mr. Clarke."
    Blessing her grandfather for simple introductions, Meg offered a hand out of politeness. She hoped it seemed limp.
    "Miss MacNeill," Dougal Stewart said, taking her fingers.
    A dreadful mistake, she realized, to touch him. The contact shocked through her. Catching her breath, she saw him watching her, his eyes penetrating. Surely he knew her.
    Meg shook hands with Clarke and then folded her hands while Dougal Stewart asked Norrie about the mail runs to Mull.
    "Miss MacNeill, are you from Mull?" Alan Clarke asked. He was a pleasant fellow, blond and blue eyed, shorter than Stewart with a burly frame. He smiled sincerely.
    "I came from Mull, yes," she said. That was true. Norrie had picked her up with Mrs. Berry two days earlier. "I grew up on Caransay and I come back