Free Midsummer Moon by Laura Kinsale

head,” he said in a reasoning tone. “I wouldn't stand by for that any more than I'll let you be condemned for what I've done to you. I'll do my best to keep you from hurt, Wiz. I swear it."
    "But you don't understand.” She shifted in restless frustration. “I'm building a flying machine. It's going to fly, not fall."
    She felt the deep breath he took and held. “Merlin,” he said gently, “people don't fly. Birds fly. If people launch themselves off a cliff with a pair of wings attached, they fall. They're killed.” His arm tightened around her shoulders with a faint shudder. “I don't imagine it's a very pleasant way to go, either."
    "You don't understand,” she said despairingly. “You don't understand. Wouldn't you like it, to be able to fly? To go as high as you could and see everything; to go as far as the wind goes, as fast...” She sat up away from him. “I can do it. I know I can. It's more than just attaching a pair of wings. Oh, it's much more than that. It will work. Someday. I'm certain of it."
    He had a very odd expression on his face, dismay mixed with amusement and something else, something warmer and more affectionate. “Then at present I fear that we shall have to agree to disagree."
    Merlin looked at her lap, disappointed in his lack of response to her dream. “I suppose so."
    She felt his gaze on her, alert and probing. The carriage rocked along in silence. At length, he said, “But you wish not to marry, I take it."
    She did not answer.
    "Merlin,” he said softly, “your flying machine isn't you . Don't let it overwhelm what's really important."
    "But it is important!” she burst out. “It is me. I mean...” She paused, struggling for words. “There's nothing else to me but that. It's what I am . I'm going to invent a flying machine that works. Uncle Dorian always said so."
    He scowled, leaning his elbow on the windowsill and pinching the bridge of his nose. Merlin watched him from beneath her loosened hair, noting the way the vague sunlight picked out his strong cheekbones and the clean, commanding line of his jaw. Though he frowned, there was still that touch of warmth about his mouth, amusement mixed with impatience that softened the unyielding angles and planes of his face.
    He was like no one she had ever seen before—completely composed on the outside, perfect, immaculate in his dress and manner and yet radiating energy, a focused power that would sweep every obstacle from his path. It dawned on her that he really had kidnapped her, that he was carrying her away against her will, and she had not made the least move to stop him after that first instinctive kick. Which hadn't, she thought gloomily, appeared to have hindered him in the slightest.
    He toyed with her fingers, lifting each one separately and letting it fall with the sway of the carriage. “I think,” he said finally, “that it might be best if you left off with your work on the flying machine for a space."
    Merlin stiffened, pulling her hand away. She stared down at her balled fist. “That's impossible, Mr. Duke.” She heard a very faint breath of amusement from him and corrected herself quickly. “Mr.—um—Ransom, I mean."
    He lifted her chin. “That's very nice,” he said. “To have you use my Christian name. I don't hear it very often."
    "It's easier to remember.” She tucked her chin in, trying to evade his touch. It was hard enough to keep her mind clear without having him look at her in that disturbing way. “And I'm very sorry, but I cannot stop working on my aviation machine in favor of the speaking box."
    "Well, then,” he said easily, “don't work on either. Think of your stay at Mount Falcon as a holiday."
    She bit her lip, frowning stubbornly.
    "Merlin.” His voice was very soft. “It grieves me to hear you say that there's nothing else to you but your great-uncle's fanciful dreams. It's not true."
    "It is. What else have I invented? Oh, once I made a kettle that would boil water with