Page 57 of To Wed an Heiress
Not that her interest in Lennox’s form was purely for artistic reasons. That was not a lie she would tell herself.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lennox put up the bag and together they walked back through the castle and out to the courtyard. The deep blue skies promised a fair day with no rain. Yet even if it had stormed for hours, Mercy wouldn’t have cared.
The curious thing about being in Lennox’s company was that she felt lighthearted around him. It was as if a smile began deep in the core of her and happiness radiated outward. It was such an unusual feeling and one she’d never experienced.
“Connor has gone to Inverness to pick up the new sail,” he said. “I’m missing an assistant. Would you like to help?”
“Yes, but I’ve no experience in airships.”
“I plan to use you for painting,” he said.
It didn’t matter whatever he wanted her to do. As long as she was here she would do what she could to help him. That turned out to be applying a noxious yellowish substance to various pieces of wood and then placing them in the middle of the courtyard to dry.
“What does it do?” she asked, holding the jar up to the sunlight.
“It seals the wood. It doesn’t make it entirely waterproof, but it protects it enough that if I land in the loch again I can salvage the craft.”
“Must it smell so atrocious?” she asked, holding the jar away from her. The odor was one of rotting onions and fish.
“It’s almost perfume next to the liquid I use to prepare the sails.”
“What are these for?” she asked, picking up one of the narrow lengths of wood.
“They’re struts to support the wings.”
Once she’d been given her task, he returned to the other side of the courtyard.
She was probably not as fast as he would have been at the same task, but she managed to finish one stack of struts, taking care that she painted the wood just as he’d demonstrated.
From time to time she glanced in his direction. It looked as if he was building the framework of another airship. At the moment it appeared almost like the skeleton of some giant mythical beast. Without its sails, it seemed to be flimsy, almost fragile. How could he entrust his life to a few pieces of wood and cloth?
Lennox might have escaped unscathed the last two times, but he’d been lucky. Next time he might not be so fortunate.
He was standing on a crate, reaching overhead to string something that looked like copper wire from the edge of the wings down to the boat-like structure where he sat and controlled the aircraft.
She was certain that if she hadn’t been there, he would’ve removed his shirt again, taking advantage of the warm summer sun.
“Why?”
He glanced over at her.
“Why do you want to fly?”
“Because it’s possible. Because men have flown in balloons for decades. Because a man flew in Cayley’s glider twenty years ago. Because the next great thing won’t be a glider at all, but something powered by steam. All that’s left is to figure out the formula.”
She held up the jar. “Like this?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Like lift, weight, thrust, and drag. What makes a successful glider. I think velocity will have to be part of the formula as well, but I haven’t yet figured out a way to compute that. It’s only a matter of time, Mercy. Every day, we’re making advances somewhere across the world. Why not here? Why not in this one spot in Scotland?”
“So you want to be the first?”
“I don’t care if I’m first,” he said, surprising her. “I just want to contribute. I want to be part of it.”
“I should think that all of you would get together, whoever you are across the world, and form some sort of club or association.”
“I do correspond with a few men. We exchange ideas and theories.”
