Scandals Bride (Cynster 3)

It was, of course; he demonstrated with an elan that left her shuddering.

Neither of them noticed, on the sun glazed horizon, a flashing pinprick of light-a reflection off the manor's spy glass as it was lowered and snapped shut.

From the fence near the stables, Algaria stood, watching the two figures locked together on the back of the grey stallion, for two more minutes, then, her face colder than ice, she turned and reentered the house

That afternoon, Richard penned a detailed inquiry to Mr. Scroggs of Hexham, describing the breed, age, gender and number of cattle he wished to purchase on behalf of his client, unnamed. That letter was easy-he knew exactly how his father, or Devil, would have worded such a missive. By leaving the identity of the ultimate purchaser unspecified, he left the breeder no facts on which to speculate, and no reason to inflate his prices.

Enclosing the letter with a note instructing Heathcote Montague to forward the letter on, Richard sealed the packet and set it aside. Drawing forth a fresh sheet, he settled to write a more challenging missive-a letter to Mr. Potts.

That letter took him two hours and five sheets, resulting in a brief, single-page epistle. Rereading it, he smiled. After laboring to find the correct tone, the precise colors in which he wished to paint himself, he'd finally taken it into his head to approach the exercise as if he was Catriona's champion, her protector, her right arm. To wit, her consort. She was the lady, but he was the one who dealt with beef.

Proud of his handiwork, he rose and went to show her.

He found her as always, in her office, poring over a collection of lists and detailed maps. She looked up as he entered, and smiled-warmly, welcomingly. Richard grinned. He waved the letter at her. "For your approval."

"Approval?" Her eyes flicking to his face, she took the letter, then glanced at it. "Who…? Oh-Potts."

Scanning the letter, her expression softened from unreadable, to amused, to one step away from joyful. Reaching the end, she giggled and looked up at Richard. "That's perfect!" She handed the sheet back "Here-I received this in today's packet."

Richard took the letter she held out and swiftly read it-it was from Potts.

"He's becoming more and more insistent." Catriona heaved a relieved sigh. "I'd laid it aside to talk to you about later, but the truth is, I need to deal with Potts for our grain. He's always been our most active and reliable buyer, so putting him off over the breeding stock, especially when they're so expensive and will bring him a good commission, had started to give me a headache."

"Stop worrying." His gaze on her face, Richard heard the order in his tone, but made no effort to soften it. Maybe it was because she wasn't trying to conceal her feelings from him anymore, but he could now see-and sense-how deeply concerned she'd become over the breeding stock. He knew he was reserved, but with her witchy cloak of seeming serenity, she was every bit as bad.

She smiled up at him; he was relieved to see the clouds gone from her eyes. "I have-now I can leave all that to you." Tilting her head, she asked: "Do you have any sources or definite buys in mind?"

Richard hesitated, then grinned charmingly. "Not yet," he lied.

He'd surprise her-it had suddenly occurred to him that she'd been carrying the problems of the vale on her slight shoulders for more than six years. She was due a pleasant surprise or two. Like an unusual wedding gift-one she couldn't ask the price of, and so couldn't worry how the vale would pay for it.

Still grinning, he twitched his missive to Mr. Potts from her fingers. "I'll get this in the post."

He ambled from the loom, leaving her to rotate her crops, perfectly sure that Her Lady would, if not precisely approve, then at least turn a blind eye to lies born of good intent.

The next day saw him outdoors, marking out positions for large shelters for the cattle, both those presently in the vale and those he intended to add to the herd. Together with Irons Henderson and McAlvie the herdsman-excited to the point of garrulousness-he hammered short stakes into the ice-hard ground outlining the buildings, then moved on to mark out a series of yards, pens and races, all linked to the buildings.

"I see, I see." McAlvie nodded briskly. "We can move them in, then move them out, at will and without mixing the groups.

"And we won't need to get them all round to the one side neither," observed Irons.

"That's the idea." Taking a brief rest on the rising slope leading to the house, Richard looked down on their handiwork. "This will let us get the herd in quickly-they won't lose condition as badly as they do at present if they're properly protected. And we'll also be able to get them back out as soon as the snow melts. We can keep them in the yards until there's enough new growth in the pastures."

"Which means they'll be easier to feed, and it'll protect the pastures from too-early grazing." Henderson nodded in dour approval. "Sensible."

"We'll put gates inside too," Richard said, leading the way back down the slope to the held of their endeavor, "so that once in, you'll be able to bring them out into whatever yard gives access to the fields you want to run them on."

They tramped eagerly after him, McAlvie's expression one of bliss.

In the ensuing days, the new cattle barn became the focus of vale interest. All the farmhands and laborers at the manor threw themselves into its construction with an enthusiasm that grew with it-as its realization revealed its possibilities. Others from the farms dropped by-and stayed to help. The children, of course, swarmed everywhere, fetching nails and tools, providing unsolicited opinions. Despite the hard ground and the difficulty of sinking foundations, the barn grew apace.

"Oooh!" McAlvie's eyes gleamed as he surveyed the long loft running the length of the barn. "We'll be able to feed by simply pushing half bales over the edge and into the stalls below."

"Not this year," Richard answered caustically, handing him a hammer and directing him to a brace waiting to be secured. "Let's get this up, and the herd under cover, before you start to dream."

The end walls of the main barn went up slowly, rock and stone filling the wooden frames. Meanwhile, the long side walls, wooden slats over a complex wooden frame allowing for doors, gates, shutters and runs, took shape. The sound of hammering rang over the vale; with every day the sense of shared purpose grew. Eventually, every man had contributed something-hammered in at least one nail-even old McArdle, who had hobbled down to view the enterprise and hadn't been able to resist.

As a shared distraction in a season usually marked by doing nothing, the men, used to outdoor work, welcomed the chance of activity wholeheartedly, and happily immersed themselves in it. "Better 'n chess," was the general opinion.