Midsummer Moon Read Online Free PDF

squinted at the lettering and waved a vague hand. “I expect that means that it's African salt."
    He sprinkled a little on his forefinger and touched his tongue to it. The familiar rich and bitter flavor filled his mouth, unmistakeable. He nodded, satisfied, and spread a generous amount over his mutton, hoping to disguise the meat's blandness if not its texture.
    "I believe we'll reach Mount Falcon by mid-afternoon tomorrow.” He attacked the mutton once more, taking advantage of her momentary attention by employing the old “assumption-of-success” tactic to advance his ends. “We'll carry the speaking box with us, and I can arrange to have several trustworthy fellows pack up everything here and follow directly. You won't be separated from your work for more than a day or two."
    She took a deep breath—a bad sign, Ransom knew. “Mr. Duke, I've been trying to tell you that I can't leave."
    "Yes,” he said, taking another diplomatic tack along with a salty bite of mutton. “But you haven't told me why."
    "Indeed, but I have. There's my wing—"
    "—which you can test at Mount Falcon. As I said, all of my resources will be at your service. The west ballroom will be entirely yours, and we have no end of open lawn and steady wind. Much better than what little cleared ground you've got here."
    She bit her lip. A faint sign of progress, to Ransom's keen eye. He waited, ready for the next objection.
    It came as predicted. “But to move everything,” she said. “It will take months to reorganize."
    Ransom refrained from commenting on her concept of organization. “I'll assign you my personal secretary.” He took another bite of mutton. “The man's a genius at making order out of chaos, I assure you. Everything will be at your fingertips."
    She looked tempted, and then sulky. “But the speaking box. You'll be wanting me to work on that instead."
    "Indeed not—not unless you insist. I would like you to explain its functioning to my secretary, and I'm sure"—here Ransom stretched the truth considerably—"I'm quite certain that he can adapt it to our needs with very little further help from you."
    "And then there's Theo,” she said, as Ransom continued stubbornly with the mutton. The salt had somehow made it surprisingly flavorful. “He's been ill for the last three months. Thaddeus would never leave without him."
    "Yes, of course.” Ransom put a tone of deepest empathy in his voice. “Identical twins. They won't want to be separated, naturally. That's why Thaddeus will have a room right next to Theo's, where he can be available to carry out the doctor's smallest instruction without the burden of all this other work the poor fellow's been carrying.” Ransom shook his head dolefully as he finished off another bite of mutton. He was beginning to enjoy himself. Yes, he was beginning to enjoy himself indeed. He felt exceptionally—astonishingly—well. “Thaddeus has been doing the work of two. I don't see how he's managed. And now if you stay, he'll have to be keeping a strong guard over you in addition to everything else."
    "A strong guard?"
    "Why, yes, of course, Miss Lambourne.” Ransom smiled at her, finding that in the lingering light from the window she looked lovelier than ever. His pulse began to quicken, watching the mobile curve of her lips, and the fine, soft line of her throat. “French agents,” he said, but somehow the perilous urgency of that thought was fading. She was so ripe and perfect, so adorably kissable. “If they've cracked our code—” He lost the thread of that particular sentence and kept smiling at her, fascinated and elated by the shy clip of her head as she glanced at him. “How lovely you are,” he murmured. “So soft..."
    He saw her chin come up and her misty eyes widen. “I beg your—"
    "Ah—I suppose I shouldn't say so.” He had no idea why he had said so, except that a feeling of vast happiness was expanding inside him. He took another delicious bite of mutton, and