to come up with something to help you swim,” he said, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Perhaps something that would keep you afloat. Hmmm…”

She saw his thoughts start to wander onto whatever invention he was drawing up in his head, and she laughed, looking around her in wonder. This land had drawn her, and here she had found a home, not only in her surroundings, but in the man who held her.

“I love you, Adam McDougall,” she said, bringing him out of his thoughts and his attention back to her.

“And I you, my little English wife,” he said, capturing her lips with his, and she knew she would never, ever be alone again.

THE END

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Afterword

I have borrowed from history in this novel when it comes to the wind turbine. The first use of a wind-powered machine to generate electricity was, in fact, by a Scotsman, Professor James Blyth, in July of 1887, used to light his home in Maykirk, Scotland. He received a UK patent in 1891. However, most people credit the first use of a wind-powered machine to generate electricity to an American, Charles Brush, although his operated for the first time during the winter of 1887.

Roderick’s Purpose

Preview Roderick and Gwen’s story, book 4 of The Victorian Highlanders…

A sneak peek…

1886 - Qu'Appelle, Northwest Territory

“Stop, right there!”

Gwendolyn Malone did no such thing. No, to stop would be utter foolishness and would mean the demise of herself and her father. Instead, she churned her legs even faster, willing herself to keep up the torrid pace until she reached her horse, who was standing at attention, waiting for her at the end of the town’s dusty street.

Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she reached the horse and without breaking stride jumped and hauled herself on his back. She was thankful she had the foresight to remove her skirt in favor of the pair of trousers underneath, and to gather her long hair under her hat while she was inside.

“Hi-ya!” she shouted, and the horse, well trained for such a circumstance, took off at a gallop, the brown dirt of the road flying up behind them. Her heart pounded, and a sense of elation rose within her. She had gotten away with it! Alone, without her father or his men to help, she had what she came for — and, she thought with a bit of satisfaction and relief, no one had been hurt in the process, unlike a typical Doc Malone robbery.

Her exhilaration quickly faded, however, when she heard the pounding of hooves behind her. She stole a glance over her shoulder, cursing when she saw the horse closing the distance between them. How was it possible? She had one of the fastest horses in the area, thanks to the light fingers of her father, and she was an expert horsewoman. How could this man possibly best her? She urged her mount even faster, but despite the fact she had tracked the getaway path earlier, she wasn’t completely certain of which way she was going, nor did the horse appear to know. Perhaps this man knew the path better. Perhaps his horse was equally as fast. Perhaps — no, not possible. He could not be better on a horse than she was. She had never met a man who was.

Yet, he was keeping up with her. She risked taking a quick left turn when the path forked, though she had no idea where it led. She hoped he would be thrown off by her abrupt change in direction, but when she looked back, he was still with her, though she had gained a bit of ground. She caught a glimpse of him and realized it was the man who had been sitting on the bench. Blast it all! He must have been in wait, she thought, shocked at herself and her inability to see the man for who he was. Typically, her instincts were much more reliable. She had been distracted.

She returned her focus to the path ahead, realizing with a start that there didn’t seem to be anywhere to go — in just a hundred yards or so she would be surrounded by a copse of trees and would have to lead her horse through the woodland. It would be completely fine in normal circumstances, but not when being chased. Tightening the reins slightly, she slowed to find a way out. All the breath suddenly left her as a solid weight slammed into her side with such force she was knocked off her horse and taken to the ground. She grunted when her body hit the dirt, and her assailant tried to catch her hands behind her back, likely to tie her up.

Gwen strongly resolved to ensure that would never happen, and she quickly rolled out of the man’s grip, clambering to her feet and running back toward her horse. Before she could get very far, however, he grabbed her ankle and dragged her back, and she realized she wouldn’t be able to outrun him. Instead, she remembered everything Doc had taught her and swung with a right hook he would be proud of, connecting with the man’s jaw. His head snapped back, and he bellowed with anger. A sense of satisfaction settled over her despite the pain that radiated through her knuckles and up her arm.

The man was strong, however, and grabbed onto her right upper arm with such force she couldn’t move it. She brought her left arm up, scratching at his face until he reached out to stop her, letting her go in the process. She scrambled out of his grasp once more, and when he went to reach for her, she brought her knee up, hard, into his groin. As he cried out again, Gwen

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