Aldourie, Scotland - 1885

Adam McDougall put a hand to his forehead to block the sun as he gazed out over the fields in front of him. A hot, dry wind riffled through his short, thick dark hair, but rather than cool him, it served to push the rivulets of sweat to run faster down his neck.

It had been unusually warm this summer, and he wasn’t quite used to it yet.

The sheep were meandering to the shade, and he waved a hand to Angus, a crofter who was driving the sheep forward. This hillside outcropping could offer little in support of growing anything, but there was enough grass for the sheep to graze.

Hoof beats thundered on the ground behind him, and he turned. A pair of horses galloped toward him, the midnight black and striking white of their hides creating a majestic pair of opposites, much like their riders.

“Finlay, Kyla,” he greeted his brother and sister-in-law.

“Adam!” said Kyla with a warm smile as she easily dismounted and enveloped him in a quick embrace. She was a welcome addition to their family, a girl who had been like a sister near their entire lives. Finlay nodded as he slid from his horse, his face as unyielding as Kyla’s was animated. It did not bother Adam in the least. He was well used to Finlay’s moods, although his brother had become much more at ease since marrying Kyla.

“What do you think?” she asked as she stood beside Adam, overlooking the valley below. It was Kyla who had implemented much of the change in their lands, amalgamating areas for the purposes of greater ease and accessibility for the crofters to work together. Their way of life was changing, but with smart practices, the McDougalls felt they could make the necessary alterations to keep their people from emigrating as quickly as they had been previously.

“It’s working well,” he said, observing the patchwork quilt of lands below them, where vegetation grew and was tended to by the crofters. He enjoyed assisting his brother with his work, though Adam was not a natural leader. Finlay, for all of his hardness, knew how to incite people to work for him, and with him. “The crofters seem much happier. They are able to complete more of their tasks in less time, and still most make it home to see their families in the evening.”

“Good,” she said with a grin, as Finlay nodded his head.

“Thank you for your help, brother,” Finlay said. “I appreciate it.”

“I know ye do,” Adam responded. “Well, I’m off back to home. Are you coming?”

“We’ll be along shortly,” said Finlay. “I just want to stop in quickly and see Molly McGee and her babe.”

Adam nodded and mounted his own horse, a chestnut Cleveland Bay he called Sloane, for the horse’s warrior roots. As he urged the horse into a gallop over the fields on the short ride back to Galbury Castle, his mind began churning, always at work, thinking, calculating. It was on his latest idea, one that his family thought was quite mad. He had been to Edinburgh some months prior and had seen firsthand the few streets now lit by electricity. Apparently there were homes lit as well by the power, which he was told was primarily made through a generator powered by steam water. Apparently, of course, London was even further ahead. Power plants were already established, which were able to supply electricity to a great number of people by using burning coal to drive steam turbines. He had been fascinated. What changes this could result in, particularly for his own people, he couldn’t be sure. When he had asked, however, he had been laughed out of the room. He was in the Highlands, they told him. What did he need electricity for?

He could see plenty of use for it, however. In their barns, with the sheep. To use in the kitchens and the dining rooms of the larger homes, where people worked to cook and serve food. True, it might take some time for power to find its way here … but could it not be?

He could hardly see how coal would be used here though, he thought as he rode. There was, of course, plenty of water, but how could it be utilized to drive electricity? There wasn’t much else in the Highlands that could create power, he thought as the wind chapped his face. It was too bad the wind couldn’t be bottled, he thought with a laugh. It was one thing the Highlands had more of than they wished. Unless… a thought struck him suddenly, and his mind began to turn.

After stabling his horse and brushing him down, Adam bypassed the main keep for the small building tucked away in the back of the bailey. He wasn’t sure what it had originally been used for — perhaps storage for tools or a building for particular animals. It was now his workroom. He had taken over the abandoned building as a place he could be alone with his thoughts and his designs.

He walked to the small desk in the corner, unfurling the paper in front of him and dragging over the wooden stool to sit upon. He picked up a pencil and began tracing in the components he had thought of as he had raced home. A blade here, a turn there. It seemed like he had worked for only a few minutes, but when he heard the door creak open, emitting slightly more light, he was shocked to look through the small window and see the sun was quite low in the sky.

“Adam?” came the deep voice, and he responded for his brother to come in.

Roderick looked around him, squinting in the dim light. “How can you even see in front of your face?” he asked. “I can barely make you out, sitting over there in the corner.”

Adam shrugged, then realizing Roderick couldn’t see him, answered, “I’m not sure, but I seem to be getting on well enough.”

“You’ve been out here for hours, man,” his brother said. “We’ve eaten dinner already, but the cook saved you some for when you’re ready.”

Adam belatedly felt the emptiness in his stomach. His sister Peggy was forever groaning about how anyone could possibly ever forget to eat, but it was true he often did when his mind became engaged elsewhere.

Roderick leaned his huge frame against the doorjamb. “What are you working on?”

“Just an idea I had,” he said. “I’m not sure if it could work. You’ve heard of electricity?”

“Of course,” Roderick said.

“I’ve thought of a way to generate it. A way that we could take advantage of out here.”

“Oh?” Roderick straightened slightly. “And how would that be?”

“The wind.”

“The wind?”

“Aye.” Adam nodded. “If there is one thing we have in strong supply here in the Highlands, it’s wind. Imagine if its power could be harnessed — why, we would have too much electricity rather than merely enough.”

“Like a windmill? How would you propose to harness the power?” Roderick asked in disbelief.

“Aye, like a windmill. ’Tis simple, really, when it comes down to it,” said Adam. “You make the wind move something. If whatever it moves can go fast enough, it can take the energy from it and generate power. It’s then a matter of storing it for future use.”

Roderick shook his head. “You’ve gone beyond me, brother,” he said. “Though I am impressed, I will say. Come, you canna do anything more tonight in the near-dark. The family’s waiting for you.”

Adam sighed in frustration. He loved his family, truly he did, but they spent so much time in the company of one another, while he also enjoyed his solitude, when his mind could run freely.

Begrudgingly, however, he followed his brother into the main keep, where the wide entrance of his home greeted him. The walls were warmly covered with the McDougall plaid, and the smell of roast chicken wafted toward him, making his tongue water. As Roderick said, the family was gathered around the hearth in their usual seating arrangement, and he gladly accepted his plate from the cook and began to shovel in the food. He was hardly listening to his family, his mind still back in his workshop, until he heard his name.

“Adam?” said Finlay. “Are ye paying attention?”

“Of course he’s not!” laughed Peggy. “You know his head is up in the clouds or in some latest invention, tinkering with a device.”

She wasn’t far from the truth, but Adam refused to acknowledge the fact.

“I’m sorry, Finlay, what did you say?”

“Just that Dougal, our lead gillie, has injured himself. His back is afire again, and I dinna think he’ll be able to lead the hunters who are set to arrive later this week.”

Adam inwardly groaned. He hated the hunters, the Lowlanders or the English who came from the south to have a “wild adventure” in what they felt were the untamed Highlands. He could see the practicalities, and he was grateful that, to this point, they had been contained to the MacTavish lands, which had previously been Kyla’s family’s holdings. Since the marriage of Finlay and Kyla they had amalgamated, but Adam would always hold his family’s own land dear.

“Have ye told them not to come, then?”

“Of course not,” said Finlay with a frown. “You know I do not enjoy having them here either, Adam, but the truth is they bring in quite the profit for our clans. There should be near twenty of them come this time from London.”

“Twenty?” he repeated. “That’s a fair number to take out on a hunt.”

“I dinna believe they should all be hunting, and they are bringing a few of their own serving men,” said Finlay. “Besides that, I believe there are a few women accompanying them, who willna be on the hunt.”

“Women?” said Adam, realizing he sounded rather daft, continuing to repeat his brother’s words. “You canna mean it, Finlay. The Highlands are no place for fancy Englishwomen. Do you remember the last one that came up?”

Unfortunately, they all did. She had tripped before she had even left the yard, turning her ankle in a hole. It was her own fault, Adam felt, for wearing delicate little slippers in this terrain, and yet she had blamed them all and cursed the land.

“The Highlands are no place for a woman.”

At that, he had three heads swivel toward him, and he looked up from his plate to find the eyes of his mother, sister, and Kyla bearing down on him.

“Oh, not you women,” he said, which only served to cause them to stare harder at him. “I mean the Englishwomen. The princesses.”

“They are not all like that,” Peggy said, exasperated with him. “It would be like saying all the Highland men are large warriors wearing kilts every day.”

“I like my kilt,” said Adam, with a wink, and his sister rolled his eyes at him.

“Oh, Adam,” she said. “You’ll never learn.”

“Actually, Adam, you will have to be nice to the fair princesses, for I’m going to need you to lead the hunt.”

“What?” He jerked his head toward Finlay. “Not again, Fin. Tell me you’re not serious. Can Roderick not do it?”

“I am serious. The man who is organizing this one, his friend was the one you led last. He was quite appreciative of your knowledge of the land and requested that you accompany them. They’ll be staying at Darfield, so you’ll have Rory’s help, and we’ll send some lads with you as well. It should be no issue, and they will pay well. After the last time, Roderick will nae be doing it.”

“What was wrong with my tour?” Roderick piped up.

“You fed them all lies and stories that are simply fables from years ago!”

“They enjoyed them,” he countered with a shrug.

“Even still. You are only adding to the untrue myths and legends,” said Finlay, shaking his head. “No, it’s settled. Adam will do it.”

Adam stared broodily at his now-cleaned plate before him and sighed. His wind energy system would have to be put on hold while he led the Englishmen around. He cursed aloud, and his mother swatted him. His life was many things, he thought, but as much as he wished it, dull it was not.