Page 35 of To Wed an Heiress
He’d taken precautions. After all, he had no wish to die in the name of science. Yes, there was always an element of risk in doing something few men had tried. Other men interested in flight had recruited either their servants or volunteers to fly their airships, but that seemed like a cowardly move. If he’d built his airship right and used the correct calculations, he’d be fine. If not, no one else would have to pay the price but him.
He climbed into the basket. Using a tool he’d created for just this purpose, he reached up and turned the wheel holding the upper sails, relieved when it rotated easily. Two massive square sails jutting out on either side of the airship would act as stabilizers while the fins on the tail would allow him to change direction. He was hoping that the rotating sails would keep him aloft for longer, but the idea was currently unproven. He’d discover if he was right—or wrong—with this test flight.
“I’ll be fine, Connor.”
The other man didn’t say a word. If the only thing Connor had to say was a warning, then maybe it was better if he kept silent. Irene had already scolded him for being too adventurous.
Was he supposed to sit in his castle, surrounded by goose down for fear that he might hurt himself? Even as a physician he would be in occasional danger—from a disease he couldn’t cure or an epidemic that would rage out of control despite his best efforts.
“It’s time,” he said.
The aircraft was close to the edge of the platform. The basket was equipped with wheels on the bottom, less for landing than for the takeoff. All it would take was a small push and he would be airborne.
Leaning forward, he gave Connor the signal. The next second, he was over the edge, into the air, excitement overwhelming any nervousness he might have felt. In that space of time, that long minute or maybe two, he was more than a man. He was Icarus, a godlike creature challenging nature itself.
His stomach dropped a little as it always did, but the feeling was also accompanied by a surge of exultation.
The airship descended, a little faster than he’d anticipated, but at least the upper sails were catching the air.
A second later he glanced up, realizing that the wheel wasn’t turning. None of the side sails were billowing, either. The airship wasn’t gaining grace in the sky. Instead, it was lumbering toward the ground like a wounded creature.
He pulled hard on the right paddle that controlled the tail, anticipating that he would be turning slowly right, heading for the road. The airship didn’t respond. He could hear the sound of the wind in his ears, the creak of the wood as it strained to obey.
If the right paddle didn’t work, maybe the left would. He pulled hard on it, saying a prayer at the same time, hoping that God would forgive his arrogance or whatever stupidity he’d demonstrated. Somehow, he’d made a mistake. Otherwise, the design should have worked.
The side sails finally caught the air and his rate of descent lessened a little. He held on to the paddle with both hands, pulling with all his strength. The airship responded in infinitesimal degrees.
The snap, then crack of one of the upper supports was something he almost expected. The feeling of plummeting to earth wasn’t.
The airship swung slightly to the left, heading for Loch Arn. A water landing was preferable to hitting the ground so hard that the airship shattered. At least he stood a chance of surviving.
Something flickered at the far left of Mercy’s vision. She turned to see what had attracted her attention, but all she saw were tall grasses and a punch of orange, purple, and pink from the occasional flower.
There it was again.
Turning, she faced Ben Uaine. Maybe it was a bird. No, she wouldn’t have been able to see a bird from here unless it had a massive wingspan.
Not a cloud marred the perfection of the clear blue sky. As she stood there, the wind blew her hair back from her face.
There it was, slightly to the right of Ben Uaine and growing nearer.
Frozen, she watched as the airship came closer. This one was different from the one Lennox had piloted a week ago. This creation was ungainly like a many-tentacled monster.
The sails weren’t catching the wind. Nor was the airship soaring with the current like a bird. Instead, it was descending too fast.
Mercy couldn’t look away.
She’d never thought to see someone fall out of the sky, let alone someone she knew. She wanted to do something to help him, but short of having the power to levitate objects or render the earth as soft as a feather, she was powerless.
For the first time she wished that screaming came easily to her. Or fainting. Anything but standing there and watching as Lennox crashed to earth.
Her hands were clenched at her waist and she felt too close to nausea.
Nothing seemed real, just like the accident a week ago. Everything was taking longer than it should. Yet the sensation of time slowing didn’t prevent the disaster from unfolding in front of her.
Lennox had to do something. He couldn’t crash.
Suddenly, pieces of the airship began to fall, a few of them hitting the ground vertically with such force that they looked like swords spearing the earth. Another piece fell. Then another. As the airship neared her, she grabbed her skirt and began to run, trying to avoid the shards of wood.
