Al had been right. His whole family was half-cracked. There was no denying it. But since he’d never known Mathilde to lie and because he didn’t want to waste the time carrying her bodily from the room, Keir only shrugged.
“Yer solemn oath, Mathilde.”
“Oh, you have it. Now what is it?”
Good bloody question.
But Al didn’t seem to want to be as forthcoming as he hoped. As she had the previous night she refused him an explanation. Why? What could she say now that would serve him ill? He’d been oddly hurt by her reticence the night before, but he knew his lady well. If she were keeping something from him, she wasn’t doing so to harm him, but perhaps to spare him harm.
Though he intended to delve more deeply into her reasons at a better time, he let the matter lie now and watched as she cracked the object in half to reveal the interior. Dominating it was a block of black surrounded by a geometric maze of green squares with wires and dots of finely crafted silver.
He couldn’t imagine what purpose it was meant to serve. Yet he knew it must be of some importance as it had been on her person when she’d come to him through the portal. Questions hovered on the tip of his tongue but he put them aside. Not only because of their company but because there were matters of more import to focus on now.
She pried out the black piece, holding it up triumphantly. “This is what’s going to set your father free, Keir.”
“That?” That innocuous piece of nothing? Surely she was jesting? “How? Is it an explosive?”
“No, it’s a battery,” she said as if that explained it all. Obviously she knew it wouldn’t because she carried on immediately. “It’s a power source. Do you know what electricity is?”
“No.”
“Aye,” he answered at the same time as his cousin. “Charles Francois du Fay has presented on his experiments in Paris following Stephen Gray's discovery of the conduction of electricity some years ago.”
“Okay, so a battery is a container to hold an electrical charge.”
“Why?” Mathilde asked. “How? For what purpose?”
“I said shut it, Mathilde, or I will hae ye removed.”
Had Al found his constant questions as annoying as he found Mathilde in that moment? If she had yet continued to display such boundless patience and enthusiasm all that time, his admiration would grow tenfold.
“But electricity is nae explosive,” he said to Al after Mathilde moved aside to pout near the foot of the bed.
“No, but what this battery is made out of is. The biggest problem with lithium ion batteries is that they react badly… explosively to heat. All we need to do is superheat it until the cell goes thermal. It should be enough to blow the lock.”
“How does it do that?” He winced even as the question left his mouth.
“The battery should begin to break down at about two hundred degrees Fahrenheit. That will spark a chemical and thermal reaction inside the battery. The gases will expand, leading to higher temperatures and more gas. It will have nowhere to go but out, spewing hot gas and molten material of what’s left at about two thousand degrees. I’ve seen video. It’s very cool.”
Despite the seriousness of their endeavor, he could see the excitement coiled within her, the tension radiating from her. She loved all of this.
God, how he loved her.
His heart tripped over a beat.
Keir cleared his throat and took the simple block from her, turning it over in his palm. “So how do we superheat it?” he asked, wondering if the answer were one he should already know.
“That’s no problem at all. Any continuous heat source would do it. A flame or some such. Really, the easiest way will be to just short it across the leads. That will allow us time enough to get away. But…” She peered out the window and his eyes followed, watching the rain slap the panes. “But the burning question,” she started, then pursed her lips, “no pun intended. But the problem is we need to charge the battery. It’s dead… I used all the electricity it contained while I was waiting out my time in your dungeon. I need to fill it up again. Somehow. All of this is useless if I can’t figure that out.”
“But that’s simple enough,” he said, wondering at her bewilderment. “I assume you ken how we can put the electrical charge intae it, aye?” She nodded. “Then ‘tis simple. I can create the electrical current ye need.”
“You can?”
He might have felt a twinge of offense at the disbelief in her voice. Aye, he might have if he weren’t having a flash of inner triumph. At long last, he knew something she did not. So for a change, he would be the teacher and she the student. “We’ll use a Leyden Jar. Pieter Van Musschenbroek presented it to the Académie des Sciences two years past.”
“I don’t think it matters right now who invented it, Keir,” Mathilde said from her perch at the end of the bed. “What matters is whether you have one and whether it will do whatever it is Miss Maines needs it to do.”
Al’s lips twitched but her eyes were bright as she looked at him. “You have one?”
“Nay,” he disappointed her with a grin. “But I ken how tae make one. The silver foil might be a challenge but nae impossible tae overcome wi’ the materials available here at Rosebraugh.”
* * *
Al stared at him in amazement. The one thing she hadn’t been able to puzzle out and the 18th century man, who by all rights shouldn’t have known a thing about creating electricity, was the one to provide the answer.
As if it were all elementary.
A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough to enjoy him. His company, his incredible mind. His tender sensuality.
Not that she had that long.
Or did she?
He asked her to marry him, hadn’t he? If he’d actually been serious—could he have possibly been serious?—he could be hers for the rest of her life.
Hers.
To have. To hold.
To love.
Did she dare begin to dream again?
Keir clapped his hands, rubbing the palms together eagerly. “This might actually work. Shall we begin?”
She darted a glance at Mathilde, her brown eyes dancing with excitement and perhaps approval as well.
“This is the most fun I’ve had in years.”
How could Al argue with that?
She was right.
Chapter 32
“Ye’re nae coming, lass.”
“I am.”
“Ye’re nae!”
“Yes, I am!”
“Your lovers’ quarrel is charming, but if we want to save Uncle Camran, you’ll have to wrap it up.” Mathilde critically eyed her manicure as her droll remark landed on deaf ears.
“I willnae allow it, lass!”
“You’re still arguing with me,” Al said, crossing her arms stubbornly. “Why are you still arguing with me?”
“Because ye’re being ridiculous, lass,” he retorted. “I willnae hae ye risking yer life o’er this. One misstep and ye could die oot there!”
“So could you. Do you see me trying to hold you back?”
“Argh! Ye stubborn wee… It willnae do! We need tae move quickly. And ye dinnae even ken how tae ride a horse.”
Al ground her teeth. “I’ll figure it out. Besides, you need me. You might have managed to get this battery charged…”
And he had. He’d even rigged up a series of Leyden Jars in parallel to do the job quicker. She’d been impressed but he’d been smug. Washing the look off his arrogant face when her phone had lit up had been a true pleasure and a bit of a wicked amusement.
“…but you haven’t any idea how I figured out to safely short the leads.”
“As ye say, I’ll figure it oot.”
“No, I have to go.”
“Nay!”
“My battery, my choice.”
It was Keir’s turn to grind his teeth. She could see his jaw fairly popping from the force of it.
“Three days, lass,” he ground out, jabbing a finger
so close to her nose, her eyes crossed. “Three days of riding hard tae get tae Edinburgh.”
“Might I be the one to point out you’ve been arguing about this for nearly as long?” Mathilde asked.
“Will ye nae go tae yer room, woman?” he shouted, turning on her. “And leave me some peace?”
“And miss all this?”
Mathilde’s glance slid around him to Al. She winked.
Al appreciated the support.
Keir turned back to her, gripped by the temper that exploded with each of these arguments and had kept their sheets ablaze for the past two nights. Oddly enough, she’d enjoyed both.
“Think what ye’re getting yerself intae, mo ghrá. Three days on horseback. There’ll be nae plush carriages and speeding automobiles wi’ yer bluidy A and C tae comfort ye. Ye’ll ne’er make it.”
Her eyes narrowed. No one would ever tell her again she couldn’t do something. She’d ride his bloody horse all the way to Edinburgh with a smile even if her ass was chapped off by the time she got there.
“I, for one, will be glad to have you join us, Miss Maines,” Mathilde joined it. “It’s been such an interesting experience, I couldn’t bear for it to end. And if you’re worried about how well she can handle a mount, I’ve a simple solution. She can ride with me. See! I’ve finally contributed positively to our little project.”
What a nice way to refer to a treasonous activity.
There had been a brief instance of uncertainty for Al when she figured that out. But she already knew there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for Keir’s sake. Apparently that included laying down her freedom and possibly her life for him.
If only he’d stop arguing and let her.
Difficult since that was exactly why he didn’t want her along.
“Thank you, Mathilde.” She smiled sweetly at the woman. For all her officiousness, it was hard not to like her.
Her smile for Keir was far more saccharine.
With a menacing growl, he turned and stomped away, his kilt flaring as much as his anger.
“Don’t forget to change out of that before we leave,” she called after him, feeling smug in her unspoken victory. “You don’t want to get arrested for wearing a tartan before we even make it to the prison!”
“My cousin has always had a bit of a temper,” Mathilde said when he’d gone. “Makes me tremble in my boots. Yet there you are, so calm. Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. You impress me, Miss Maines.”
She smiled. “Please, call me Al.”
“Al? Very well, you can call me Tildy,” she offered. “It’s been a fair while since anyone has but then, there are few I like well enough to allow them to. And I do like you, Al.”
“Thank you.”
The compliment warmed her through. If boyfriends had been hard to come by in life, true girlfriends were even harder. And she got the strong feeling she might have found one in Keir’s cousin, even if she was losing him in the process.
The thought made her heart ache. But it would have eventually in any case.
Turning back to the battery, she concentrated on making the connections she’d need to short the leads. She’d peeled off the hard plastic, outer casing to expose the inner wires and trio of long batteries covered in their black rubber coating. And more importantly, she’d figured out a way to trigger it that could be quickly done.
And easily. Despite her argument, Keir could manage it without any trouble at all. She simply didn’t want to be left behind to wonder and worry about what was going on.
And then there had been another part of her that wanted to strike against ‘The Butcher’ for what he’d done to the Highlanders. What he was still doing to them. The more stories she heard about the atrocities he was committing against the people here, the more incited her humanitarian side became.
She’d felt the same anger when Dr. Fielding had begun his little zoo but had felt helpless to raise more than a verbal complaint in opposition. Even when human freedom was at stake. It had eaten at her, pained her until it burst upon Hugh’s arrival.
What Cumberland was doing was even worse. The tales she heard about torture and hangings weren’t just violations of human rights. They were unacceptable war crimes. Crimes against humanity that would have gotten him called before a UN tribunal in the future. They didn’t have that here to help these people. There was only men like Keir to fight back. And she wanted to be a part of it.
Even if her contribution didn’t go further than the detonation of a small IED. And it was extremely improvised.
Mathilde was twisting long lengths of silver thread she’d produced from her mother’s old sewing basket into wires. Al would use them to short the battery by attaching an end of each to the leads within the battery and the other ends to silver butter knives. With few things handy made from copper, silver would have to do. It was just as conductive even if her end product looked ridiculous.
“How is this going to work?”
“Once the two wires connect the knives to the battery, we can lay one knife across the other with a piece of straw between them. With that in place, we set the straw on fire. The connection will be made when it burns away between the two, allowing the current to pass through them, short-circuiting the battery which we’ll string up as close to the lock as we can.”
“It’s quite clever really,” Mathilde said. “Did you learn this in boarding school or from an eccentric governess?”
Al grinned and shrugged. “Neither.”
“I wouldn’t think so, governesses are so rarely interesting,” she replied. “My lasses would love you though. Their governess cares only for painting and etiquette and they are bored silly. My youngest especially, she always reading from journals and such. Just like Hugh always did.”
Her voice caught, just a hitch.
“Tildy, I’m so…”
“Oh, pish!” she said, straightening and holding her wire up triumphantly. “That’s neither here nor there. It’s only that he would have enjoyed this all immensely. He would have liked you, I think, as well. Though perhaps not as much as my cousin.”
A blush painted Al’s cheeks and she ducked her head to hide it.
“No, don’t be shy,” she chided. “‘Tis plain to see he likes ye well enough and you like him. The way he looks at you tells me there is something more as well. Is he your lover?”
Her face reddened to a full flush and a low moan escaped Al. Had she just thought it might be nice to have a girlfriend? She couldn’t talk about him. Not about what they were doing with each other, particularly when she had no idea where it was all going.
And most especially not with his cousin.
Mathilde laughed. “Bold as brass with him yet shy with me. It does make my imagination soar. But I won’t press you… for now, at least. Tell me instead, how is it you don’t know how to ride a horse?”
* * *
Al stared up at the beast in the stables. She’d had one of the stable boys point out the horse she would be riding—assuming she really meant to contradict Keir’s wishes and do this crazy thing. It didn’t seem so bad. Its brown eyes were kind. Other than a brief glance, it seemed pretty disinterested in her.
Which was fine.
But it was so big. No, compared to the others, it was small. It was just big to her.
“I’m an animal lover,” she told it quietly, reaching out to stroke its forehead. Jumping aside with a start when it shook its head. “No, really, I am. I love animals even if I never had much of a chance to know any as big as you.”
She shook her head. She was talking to a horse.
“I have a cat. Had. I worry about him. I hope someone found him and is feeding him. His name is Mr. Darcy. Keir hasn’t asked yet why I named him that. I wonder if he ever will. Maybe he’ll make fun of me for idolizing romantic heroes,” she laughed under her breath. “Maybe, for my sake, he won’t figure out he’s one of them.”
“He wants to save me, you know?” She tried to stroke the horse’s
nose again and this time it allowed the contact, even leaning into it a little bit. “He already has. More than once. I wish I could save him, too, but I’ve never really been the heroine type. I just want to try, even if it makes him angry. I want to help.” Al sighed and scratched the horse between the eyes.
It nuzzled her hand and she felt herself melt a little. She really did have a soft heart for animals, and for charmers who claimed they weren’t charmers. “Really, I just want to be with him. To love him… God, that sounds so stupid. So much for feminism—Oh! Whoa!”
The fickle horse, so happy under her touch one second, reared its head in the next. Knocking her under the chin and sending her stumbling back. Kicking over a pail, she careened to the side, taking down a pair of shovels and somehow managing to tip over a trough filled with oats.
Attempting to save it, she fell headlong over the top of it and into a pair of arms.
“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry!” she cried, steadying herself on the surprisingly stable arms of the ancient-looking man who’d come to her rescue.
He was not much bigger than her really. With graying hair and big ears showing from beneath his cap. He had a deeply wrinkled face, though his twinkling blue eyes were remarkably youthful.
He somehow looked familiar but she couldn’t place him. He set her back on her feet with ease. She had none. She could only imagine how much he’d heard if he’d been standing there for a while!
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, flushing scarlet.
“Dinnae fash yerself, lass.” He chuckled, thrusting his fists into the deep pockets on his trousers. “Accidents happen, dinnae they? In fact, some of the best things hae come from a wee accident here and there.”
It sounded so similar to what Keir had said about accidents and how the greatest advances in science had come from them, Al could only gape at him.
He dragged off his cap and scratched his balding pate. “Truth be told, I’ve made a few of my own. Wee slips that dinnae come oot as expected. A door left open too long, for example. Sometimes things slip through ye might nae hae intended, ye ken?”
Tilting her head, she narrowed her eyes on the old man thoughtfully. Aye, she did ken, but why did she get the feeling they were talking about the same damned door. “I’m sorry…?”
Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3) Page 21
