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.

Eventually, the women came to see what was afoot.

"Mercy be!" exclaimed Mrs. Broom. "The cattle won't know themselves."

Cook humphed. "Get ideas above their station, I shouldn't be surprised."

Catriona came down late in the afternoon, just before the light started to fade. Algaria, dressed, as usual, in unrelieved black, glided in her wake.

"This way, mistress." With a flourish, McAlvie conducted her around his charges' new quarters. "I'm thinking, if they spend winters like this, they'll regain their summer weight in weeks, rather than months."

Nodding, Catriona slowly pivoted, taking in the size of the structure-rather larger than she had supposed. "How many will it hold?"

"Oh, it'll take our present numbers easily."

"Hmm." Discovering a gate before her, Catriona opened it. "What are these for?"

"They," Richard answered, strolling up, "are for channeling the occupants." Taking Catriona's hand, he led her to a ladder left leaning against the loft's edge. "Go up a few steps and you'll see the pattern more easily."

Catriona climbed up, and he explained the flow of traffic through the barn.

"How very useful." Looking down, she smiled at him.

Richard reached up and lifted her down. "Useful is what I do best."

She smiled and pressed his hand; together they strolled to the main doors. Leaving him there with a lingering smile and a promise in her eyes, Catriona started back to the house.

Algaria trudged behind her.

Catriona stopped at the stable yard fence and looked back-at the useful structure her consort had fashioned from the materials and energy lying dormant in the vale. A soft smile curved her lips as she turned away and started across the cobbles.

Algaria, behind her, humphed disgustedly. "Newfangled nonsense!"

As often happened, winter refused to cede its authority without one last freeze. It came literally overnight, a storm that dumped feet of snow over the vale, followed by a cold snap, which froze it all in place.

The cattle barn, while far from finished, was complete enough to house the present herd. McAlvie, warned the day before by both Catriona and Cook's aching joints, had sent his farmhands to all corners of the vale to bring the herd in.

Everyone, both from the manor and the farms, had been there to see the herd, shaggy and gaunt, come plodding and swaying, lowing and mooing, up to the manor. Then McAlvie and his lads turned them down the slope to their new quarters; they'd gone readily, riling in through the main doors, heads up, eyes wide. Those watching had waited, listening for any hint of problems; instead, all they heard was a murmur of contented moos.

That had been yesterday; now, standing by the stable yard fence, Catriona looked down on the snow-shrouded barn. The contented sound still rose from the building. The herd was safe and warm; she could see footsteps sunk deep in the snow leading to the barn and guessed McAlvie's lads had already been out to feed them.

Turning, she surveyed the scene in the yard behind her. Irons was in charge of the team set to clear the pump of snow and ice. Richard was about somewhere; she could hear him issuing orders about sweeping some of the snow from the roofs of the forge and two of the smaller barns. The fall had been heavy; from what she could gather, certain eaves were in danger of snapping under the weight.

All the children had been sternly confined to the house; Catriona could see noses pressed to the window panes of the games room. But she agreed with the edict-every now and then, as the men worked to clear the eaves, a minor avalanche would ensue.