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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

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