Adam was pleased that he had finished what he determined would be his initial design. Not that any design was ever complete, but it was a good base from which to start. His idea was to not only turn the wind energy into electricity, but store it as well. He knew of the electricity that was being used to light London and similar cities. Could it be of use here? It was not as if they needed streetlamps, but he thought perhaps even better would be using such a source to provide power to strenuous activities the crofters were used to doing. Perhaps there was a way to bring water up out of a well, or even power equipment to lessen the burden on the workers in the field or the barns. How helpful that would be.

He chewed on his thumbnail in thought, before remembering his sister and Rebecca were standing at the door. He determined he was not going to solve this problem in mere minutes, and turned to address them.

“Ladies,” he said, leaning against the writing desk in front of him. “How fare ye today?”

“Well, thank you,” said Rebecca before Peggy answered with a “fine, thanks.”

All was silent for a moment, until Adam noticed Peggy looking back and forth between him and Rebecca. He knew he seemed a fool, as his gaze was locked on hers, neither of them saying anything further. She had taken him aback, however. She was dressed in his family’s plaid, and he realized Peggy must have loaned it to her, as it seemed to be gathered behind her, clearly far too big for her. And yet … it looked rather well on her. Like the perfect fit.

Adam finally cleared his throat and broke the silence. “It is good to see you are well enough to get around.”

She laughed a little nervously, though why, he wasn’t sure. “Oh, yes! Peggy provided me with a tour of your home. It is lovely. And I must thank you so much for these tools that allow me to walk. They are rather useful. Have you ever thought of selling them?”

“Selling them?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, her blue eyes darting up toward him. “You could patent them, I’m sure of it, and fetch quite the dollar for the design.”

“Actually, Rebecca, I do not need to make money off of my crafts. I merely mean to better the lives of those who may require it.”

“But is that not what you would do? Better so many more lives?” she asked. “Sure, you would make money off of them as well, but you would reach so many more people that—”

“All is well as it is, Rebecca,” he said, cutting her off, though somewhat gently, and her face flushed pink. He felt a bit of an ogre for his shortness with her, but he had to make her understand.

He noted Peggy’s continued stare, and he knew why she was curious. He wasn’t typically so abrupt. He was serious, though usually much more friendly. There was something about this girl, though — something that brought out a different side of him.

“I — ah — forgot something in the keep,” Peggy said, slowly inching her way out the door. “I’ll return in a moment. Just — just wait here, Rebecca,” she said, before leaving, shutting the door behind her.

“What are you working on?” Rebecca asked him, breaking the silence and the awkwardness that stretched between them.

“Nothing of note,” he said, shrugging and covering the papers in front of him. He didn’t wish to have a stranger look over his plans. It was akin to showing a part of himself, of the innermost thoughts and plans of his mind. “I do not believe you would be interested.”

“Let me see — please?” she asked. “I enjoy such things, truly I do. My father — well, not so much my father — but those he works with create designs as well. I find them fascinating when I am able to learn of them. My father would rather I focus on other things, but his business partner sneaks me into the plant.”

He studied her, confused as to who this girl — woman? — truly was. She did not seem to be the genteel Englishwoman he had initially thought her to be, and yet she still had a delicate countenance to her that evoked a feeling of protectiveness in him, making him want to shield her from any and all who meant to do her harm. Not that he had any business being the man to do so, he knew. He was nothing — the son of a chieftain, true, but in the Scottish Highlands, that didn’t mean much anymore. The chieftain was simply the man who had the responsibility of ensuring his family’s survival. It was not a duty he envied, though his father, and now his brother, Finlay, had done a fine job of it.

Unable to resist her pleading eyes any longer, he finally stepped back from the writing desk, waving his hand toward it, and she hobbled over toward him. As she drew closer, he smelled the faint scent of rose rising from her skin.

“It looks like a windmill but … on its side,” she said, her eyes roving the page. She turned to look at him, her blue eyes wide in her narrow face. “And yet, different somehow.”

“You are correct,” he said. “The idea comes from the windmill, aye. What I am looking to do is harness the wind power to convert the wind’s kinetic energy into electrical energy. It takes the idea of harnessing the power of wind, but on a smaller scale than the windmill you would typically see. This design I have in mind should keep it from any substantial damage. You see, it’s horizontal in structure, not vertical, and uses cloth sails. It would not only generate electricity but also store it for future use.”

“How does the conversion process work?” she asked, and he looked at her closely, seeing that she was genuinely interested.

No one had ever shown true regard for his work before. His brothers and sister, his parents, and Kyla, would listen to his explanations and they appreciated the outcome of his experiments and inventions, but no one had ever really care how they worked, or the thought that went into them.

“Well,” he began, feeling somewhat excited at discussing his thought process. “The wind spins around the blades, or the sails, as any windmill does, of course. As the blades turn, there is a shaft they are connected to. That shaft rotates with enough force and speed to create kinetic energy. The energy is then transmitted into a generator, which turns it into electric energy. Here,” he said. “I can show you what I’m thinking.”

He walked over to the corner of the room and picked up his prototype. He felt rather vulnerable in showing her, but perhaps it would better explain what he was thinking. He placed it on the small table in the corner of the room, and when she began to hobble toward it, he reached out a hand and helped her, practically lifting her the few steps over to the bench in front of it.

As he had when he was helping his mother dress Rebecca’s wound, he felt a bit of a tremor run through him at her slight frame in his hands. She was such a wisp of a thing, and yet seemed to possess an inner strength. Where did it come from?

“Thank you,” she said, a becoming pink blush creeping up her face.

She leaned over the model, running her hands along the wood he had carved, moving the blades of the wind turbine he had created on such a small scale.

“Did you create this?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.

“It’s incredible woodwork,” she said, her eyebrows drawing together as she looked at it.

“Oh, ’tis nothing,” he said, embarrassed at her remarks. “You should see my father’s work.”

He showed her how the thing moved, his hands settling over hers, and he felt a shock run through him where they touched. She seemed somewhat engrossed in his explanation, asking him questions about electricity that proved a far greater knowledge of it than most people possessed.

“How do you know so much about the subject?” he asked her.

“My father’s business,” she said in surprise. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew. He runs a power plant.”

“Your father?” he asked incredulously. How could such a man successfully run such an operation?

“Yes, my father,” she said with a low, throaty chuckle that turned something within him, something he had not felt in a very long time. “He’s a businessman, truthfully. He began the power plant a couple of years ago with a partner, a man who does understand the workings of the operation. My father’s role is more regarding the relationships required with other vendors, owners of buildings, and the city of London. Sullivan — his partner — he has told me much of the workings of the plant, which is how I know of it.”

She paused for a moment.

“Sullivan would likely be interested in learning more of your design,” she said. “I don’t see how it would work within the city, but perhaps it would allow for an extension into the countryside, where everything is much more spread out.”

He was already shaking his head before she finished her explanation.

“This is just for me and my clan, for now at least,” he said. “I dinna wish to share it further.”

“All right,” she said with a shrug. “Though if you ever wanted to speak to someone about what you’re working on … I’m sure he would be interested.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, to keep her from continuing to push the idea on him. “And your man, Vincent, he is involved with the company as well?”

“He is not my man,” she responded. “He is my father’s choice for me and for his own successor as well. I suppose he sees himself in Vincent, which is a scary thought.” She sighed. “I wish he would allow me to succeed him instead, but of course a woman should not be involved in such work. He will scarcely allow me in the door of the plant, let alone learn anything about it, and of course would never think to provide me with any work there. No, instead I am to do what? He would rather I sit at home and keep house for him, until it is time for me to do so for another man.” She sighed again. “In time I’m sure he will realize Vincent is not a proper match.”

Adam’s resolve toward the woman began to soften, as he took in the distress in her eyes. She truly was in a situation, and he wasn’t sure he could help her out of it, though he supposed he could provide her some words of advice.

“I was told once to follow my heart and it could not lead me wrong,” he said, looking out the small window of the storage shed. “Many of my countrymen are making their way west, across the sea. However, I could never follow suit. My brother Roderick wants to go, and perhaps Peggy, too, someday. But I will never leave. My home is here, in these Highlands.”

“I can see why you feel that,” Rebecca responded. “It’s beautiful here. Truly. Despite all that has happened, I am very glad I came.”

She bestowed on him a smile that lit his heart, bringing to life feelings he should certainly not be having.

He stood abruptly. “Come,” he said. “Let’s see where Peggy has gotten off to. It’s nearly noon, time for luncheon.”

He didn’t lift her again, but followed her out the door, walking closely beside her to ensure she remained steady on her feet. He shook his head. What was this woman doing to him?