"Well beyond our reach," Honoria observed darkly.
Patience frowned. "What on earth are they about?"
"And where on earth," Catriona waspishly added, "have they gone to be about it?"
"Mistress! Come quickly!"
Three days later, working at the table in the stillroom, Catriona looked up to see Tom jigging in the doorway.
"Come see! Come see!" A smile splitting his face, he beckoned her wildly, then dashed toward the front hall.
Catriona dusted her hands and set off in pursuit.
"What is it?" Patience came out of the library as Tom's running footsteps echoed through the hall.
Catriona lifted her arms in a shrug.
"There's something going on outside." With Patience, Catriona turned to see Honoria hurrying down the stairs. "All the children have rushed down into the park. There's some sort of commotion going on down there."
They all looked at each other, then turned and glided, as fast as dignity allowed, to the front door. Between them, they hauled the door wide, then went out onto the porch.
The sight that met their eyes did not, at first, convey much-they were just in time to glimpse the last of Tom as he flew down the drive into the park. His cohorts, no where in sight, were presumably ahead of him. Around both sides of the house, other members of the household and manor farm streamed, deserting the kitchens, the work rooms, the stables and barns, all rushing for the drive.
McArdle stumped up to the steps, nodding toward the park. "We've some new arrivals, seemingly."
His face was relaxed, his lips curving; Catriona was about to quiz him, when she sensed a presence at her back. She turned and beheld the Dowager.
Patience and Honoria moved aside to give her space; in her most regal voice, Helena demanded: '"What is going on here?"
"Mooo-rhooo!"
The bellow had them all turning, staring at where the drive came up from the park. A huge hulking bull came lolloping up out of the trees, a long rope trailing from a ring in his nose. In his wake, a noisy gaggle of children, grooms and farmhands came tumbling, tripping and laughing, calling and screeching. The bull ignored them, sighting the party on the steps, he rolled happily forward, tossing his head, heavy rolls of muscle rippling. Cloven feet clacking loudly on the cobbles, he cantered to the steps, then, planting his front feet wide, came to a skidding halt. He looked the ladies over, then stared directly at Catriona, raised his huge head, uttered a mammoth bellow, shook his head vigorously, then looked down and exhaled in a huge, shuddering snort.
The party on the steps simply stared.
"Got 'im!" The eldest farmhand pounced on the rope, then reeled it in, shortening it to lead the bull away. Looking the animal over, the lad glanced up at Catriona, his eyes shining. "He's a prime 'un, ain't he, mistress?"
"Indeed." Catriona knew enough to know a prize bull when she saw one. "But where…?" Looking up, her eyes widened as more cattle came into view. Two yearling bulls led the way, trotting happily along under Gabriel's watchful eye. They were followed by a long line of cows and heifers, ambling contentedly, mooing and lowing; Catriona had lost count by the time three other riders came into view toward the end of the long procession.
Devil and Vane rode on either side of the stream of cattle, keeping them moving, watching for stragglers but even more watching out for the children now running alongside the beasts, hands out to fleetingly touch the soft hides as, heads swinging, the cows plodded on.
Right at the end rode Richard, McAlvie at his stirrup, McAlvie's lads flanking them, striding along, eyes on the cattle, proud grins on their faces. McAlvie looked fit to burst with enthusiasm. He was talking animatedly to Richard, who, smiling, replied with an indulgent air.
From the instant he appeared, Catriona could look at nothing else; driven by the worry of the past three days, she scanned his tall figure critically, but could see no signs of exhaustion. He rode easily, long limbs relaxed, holding himself in the saddle with his usual indolent grace.
He was well. She knew that even before, reaching the courtyard, he looked up and saw her. The smile that lifted his lips, the light that lit his eyes as he viewed her-despite the distance between them she could feel it like a touch-assured her as little else could that his three days away had done nothing to harm him.
"McAlvie!" Gabriel hailed the herdsman. "Where do you want these two?" He indicated the yearling bulls, now coralled by the crowd to one side of the steps; with a word, McAlvie left Richard and hurried to take charge.
The courtyard was a sea of excitement, of ordered pandemonium, with cows mooing, shifting and stamping, surrounded by the household and farmhands, smiling and pointing, chattering and commenting, all waiting to assist in moving the new herd down to the new cattle barn.
Which, Catriona recalled, had been built large enough to hold them.
But first, by vale tradition, they had to be named. McArdle, by right of being the oldest man in the vale, named the bull Henry. Irons declared one of the yearlings was Rupert; Henderson named the other Oswald. The women deferred to their offspring, and thus were born Rose and Misty, Wobbles and Goldy. Tom frowned and bit his lip, then named his cow Checkers.
And so it went on; called on to approve each and every name, Catriona nodded and smiled and laughed. But her senses were elsewhere, trying, through the noise and bustle, to keep track of Richard. He'd dismounted, but she could no longer see his dark head.
To her right, she was distantly aware of Devil strolling up the steps and being pounced on by Honoria. In accents only a duchess could command, her sister-in-law inquired where they'd been. Devil merely grinned. His gaze intent, he turned her and, deftly blocking her attempts to do otherwise, herded her into the house-all further discussion to be undertaken in private. If he gave her an answer, Catriona didn't hear it.
Behind her, to one side, the Dowager was in earnest discussion with McArdle, gesturing at the herd and asking questions. With a frustrated humph, Patience picked up her skirts and darted down the steps. Vane, handing his reins to one of the grooms, turned as she hurried up. Reaching out, he helped her forward when she would have stopped, one arm sliding around her as he turned her and smoothly guided her toward the gardens.
From her manner, Patience was scolding; from his, Vane wasn't listening.
Brows lifting resignedly, Catriona straightened and scanned the courtyard again. With the cows all named, McAlvie was preparing to move them around the house and down to the barn. People were milling everywhere, but she could usually see Richard easily-he was taller than any of her people. But no dark head stood out. Hands rising to her hips, a frown forming in her eyes, an emptiness in her heart, Catriona reached out with her senses-a talent she rarely used as it disturbed those, like Cook, who had latent talent of their own.
Richard was not in the courtyard in front of her.
"Do you approve of your wedding present?"
The deep purr in her ear, the touch of his breath on the sensitive skin of her temple, came simultaneously with the possessive slide of his hand splaying across her waist and belly. She started, then stilled. He held her, and their child, against him for an instant; she felt his strength envelop her. For one blissful moment, she closed her eyes and let herself slide into it, then his hand slid to her hip and he turned her.
Her eyes snapped open. "Wedding present?"
He was grinning. "I didn't give you one, remember?" The light in his eyes was victorious, triumphant. "I couldn't think what to get you." His gaze softened. "A witch who considers an escort to her prayers as precious as diamonds." Smiling, he tapped her nose with one finger. "It was a challenge-to find something you'd truly appreciate."