Midsummer Moon by Laura Kinsale

voice that broke through her reverie. She looked up and saw him striding toward her. The delight of the afternoon welled up into a cry of pure joy.
    "Mr. Duke,” she called. “Oh, Mr. Duke, I've done it! You won't believe how simple it is! It's the curve of the wing, you see. I have it all down. I measured everything. The wind speed varies with the curve, and the angle against the—"
    " Merlin! ” His furious shout cut her off, far louder than necessary from a yard away. He grabbed the kite and tore it out of her hands. Silk ripped under his fingers as he tossed the delicate framework aside. It landed and snapped, settling in a shapeless mass.
    His hands closed tight on Merlin's arms, but she was looking beyond him. “You broke it,” she said.
    "Are you all right?” he demanded. “Are you hurt?"
    Merlin dragged her eyes away from the heap of silk and stared up at him. “You broke it."
    "Where have you been?” he cried. “Not flying some damned kite? I've been out of my wits, curse you.” He began to pull her toward the house. “I come back and find your chaos of a laboratory in shambles—if the mind can conceive of such a thing—your precious Thaddeus knocked over the head, and no sign of you. I've got my agents out searching over half the shire.” He shook her as he walked. “You might have had your throat slit. Or worse, by God. Far worse."
    Merlin stumbled along beside him, unable to focus on anything but her broken kite and his last words. “I don't see what could be worse than that."
    His grip tightened. “Don't you? Well, let me tell you, my innocent babe, being raped—” He broke off suddenly, and even in the twilight she could see the dark rise of blood in his face. He looked sideways at her, his mouth set in a terrifying curve. “Never mind that. The bishop's here."
    "The bishop,” Merlin repeated in a small voice. “What bishop?"
    "What difference does it make? Ragley."
    "But—is he here for dinner? I don't think there's mutton enough for..."
    "Lord, we won't have him sit down to one of your elegant dinners,” the duke snapped. “He can do his business and be gone."
    She pursed her lips in desperate confusion. “What business?” Then she sucked in her breath and lunged against his hand, trying to break into a run. “Not Theo! Oh, no—you can't mean you've sent for a clergyman for Theo!"
    He stopped, so abruptly that Merlin tangled in her skirts and would have fallen if he hadn't kept the punishing hold on her arm. “Theo is in exactly the same health as you left him. Ragley's here to marry us, of course."
    "Marry us.” She shook her head. “Marry us to who?"
    " To each other, ” he shouted.
    Merlin scrunched away from him. “M-marry? But—"
    "It's a little late for buts.” He pushed her through the door, and then halted in the dim-lit passage. Merlin exhaled as he let her go and stood rubbing her arms, afraid to look up at him while he was in this temper. The change from pleasure to persecution left her numb, disoriented. What had she done to make him so angry?
    As if to further confuse her, he cupped her face and tilted it upward, bending to press his forehead against hers. “Don't ever do that,” he said in a voice that shook, a voice far different from his earlier tone. “Merlin, don't ever scare me like that again."
    "You broke my kite,” she said tremulously.
    He tucked a trailing strand of dark hair behind her ear. She waited for an answer to her accusation, for a reason, but he seemed not to have heard her. His gaze had wandered downward to linger at her lips, and his fingers brushed across her cheek with a feather touch. Merlin drew in a shaky breath just an instant before his mouth closed softly on hers.
    Warmth seemed to slide down over her like satin, leaving her knees feeling too tenuous to hold. She leaned on him. He supported her, held her easily against his solid shape. She could feel the muscles in his thighs grow taut. For an instant the lightning of the