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."
A shadow fell across his face; Catriona realized that, with his arm about her waist, he'd steered her back into the front hall.
"You bought me a bull as a wedding present?" She wasn't at all sure she believed that-the herd he'd driven in was worth a small fortune, was probably worth even more than she estimated. The vale could not have afforded that sort of addition to its ailing herd. A fact her husband knew.
"Not just the bull-I bought the whole herd." He looked at her innocently. "Don't you like Henry?"
Catriona smothered a snort. "I daresay he's a very good bull."
"Oh, an excellent bull-I have guarantees and glowing references as to his performance."
His lips were very definitely not straight. The front hall was empty-from outside, a cheer went up as the new herd started their last amble to their new home. Richard's lips curved more definitely, more devilishly; his arm about her tightened. "Why don't we adjourn to our room? I can explain the finer points of Henry's reputation, and you can give me your opinion."
"My opinion?" Arching one brow, Catriona met his glowing gaze. Her feet, of their own accord, were carrying her toward the stairs.
"Your opinion-and, perhaps, a token or two of your affection-your appreciation." His smile had turned devilish with salacious anticipation. "Just to reassure me that you really do like Henry."
Catriona looked into his eyes-the sounds of the crowd walking the new herd to the barn were fading in the distance. She could imagine how victorious their progress up the vale had been-she'd seen any number of workers from the farms among the crowd. And the manor folk had given them a rousing welcome-a hero's welcome. The look in Richard's eyes-the same look she'd glimpsed briefly in Devil's and Vane's-suggested they were expecting a similar welcome from their wives.
Her gaze locked on his, as they reached the top of the stairs, she smiled. Finding his hand, she twined her fingers with his, then, her own eyes alight, she slid her gaze from his and turned toward their chamber. "Come, then-and I'll consider your reward."
He deserved it.
Later, after having overseen his bath and shared a dinner fit for a conqueror which, to her amazement, had arrived without explanation on a tray, Catriona rewarded her husband thoroughly, an exercise that left her totally naked, totally drained, slumped, facedown and boneless, amid the rumpled sheets of their bed.
Much later, she mumbled: "Where did you go?"
Sprawled, similarly naked, beside her, Richard glanced at her face. She hadn't yet opened her eyes, not since he'd shut them for her. He settled back on the pillows and enjoyed the sight-of her luscious ivory back and bottom delectably displayed alongside him. "Hexham."
"Hexham?" A frown tangled Catriona's brows. "That's in England."
"I know."
"You mean those are English cattle?"
"The very best of English cattle. There's a breeder who lives outside Hexham-we went to visit him."
"Visit?"