9
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 of power to replace some of the 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 Rachel 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 Rachel before Peggy answered with a “Fine, thanks.”
All was silent for a moment, as Adam had a hard time removing his gaze from Rachel’s delicate features. Her blue eyes were locked upon him, and he thought he could drown in their depths and remain at peace. 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. He could have stood there and stared at her all day, until he noticed Peggy looking back and forth between him and Rachel. He knew he seemed a fool, but it seemed this slight, delicate Englishwoman held an inexplicable power over him.
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 once more. “You could patent them, I’m sure of it, and fetch quite the dollar for the design.”
“Actually, Rachel, 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 profit off of them as well, but you would reach so many more people that—”
“All is well as it is, Rachel,” 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, Rachel,” she said before leaving, shutting the door behind her.
“What are you working on?” Rachel 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 within 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
