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“What do you mean?” She raised her eyebrows. “You’ve a great pile of stone, just sitting there atop the hill.”
She meant the remains of Nethermoor Hall, of course. And she was right—the crumbling heap was a ready supply of building material. But somehow, Rhys just couldn’t stomach stealing rocks from his hellish past to build the house of his future. The cottage was meant to be a fresh start.
“I’d rather save that for rebuilding the Hall,” he lied. “I’ll gather moorstone for the cottage. Or quarry some granite out of the slope, perhaps.”
She shook her head. “Why not just use cob?”
“Cob?” Odd, he hadn’t thought of that. Down here in the village, most of the buildings were fashioned from the traditional walls of packed earth.
“Once you have the stone plinth, all you need for a cob house is soil and straw,” she said. “It’s easier, and cheaper by far. And built right, it will last centuries.” She looked up at the ceiling. “It’s what I plan to use, when I have the chance to expand this place.”
He looked up in surprise. “You have plans to expand the inn?”
“Oh, I have all sorts of plans for this inn.”
He signed his letter, folded it, and shoved it in his pocket. “Tell me about them.”
She gave him a mocking look. “I’m shocked you’d ask, seeing as how they’re fated to never come to pass.”
“Humor me. I’d like to hear them anyway.”
“Very well.” She set a second glass on the bar and filled it halfway. Despite his dislike of liquor, Rhys didn’t object. It was beginning to feel awkward, letting her drink alone. He didn’t want to interrupt her or argue the point, so he accepted the glass and took a cautious sip.
Fire ripped down his throat.
“Damn,” he said, coughing. “This isn’t Plymouth gin.”
“No, it’s a local brew. Cures all ills.”
“Causes them, do you mean?” He took another slow sip and found it burned less this time. “Go on, then. You were telling me about your plans.”
She refilled her own glass. “As I said, I plan to add a new wing when I have the chance. And by ‘chance,’ I mean funds, of course. Guestrooms on the upper floor and a proper dining room and parlor below. It’ll adjoin the building just there,” she said, indicating the direction with a jut of her chin. “Across from the stables. That way, the courtyard will be enclosed on three sides instead of two.”
Rhys sipped thoughtfully as she went on, detailing her plans for quality furnishings and finer dining room fare. The Three Hounds was well-situated, she explained, positioned on the only road traversing this part of the moor. The inn six miles down the road currently took most of the travelers’ business, but Meredith meant to change all that.
“With the war over, more people will be taking pleasure tours. There’s no reason why the Three Hounds shouldn’t have a slice of that pie.” Her whole face became animated as she continued describing her plans. “With finer accommodations, larger rooms, some posting horses … this place could be a realdestination. A stopping place for gentlefolk passing through on their way to tour points west. Why should they not break their journey here and explore Dartmoor, too? As you said earlier, the moor can be a pretty place.”
“Beautiful. I believe I used the word beautiful.”
“So you did.” She gave him a shy smile. “Beautiful, then.”
Their gazes tangled and held. Rhys took a deep, slow drink from those lovely eyes. They made him feel refreshed. Washed clean, as much as a man like him could ever be.
The longer he stared at her, however, the further the smile faded from her face.
In a nervous gesture, she moistened her lips with her tongue. Then she gave herself a little shake and announced to the room, “Home time, gentlemen.”
The last few stragglers roused themselves from their stools and lumbered out the door, grousing as they went. One of them yawned, and Rhys could not help but do the same.
“You must be exhausted,” Meredith said briskly, wiping her hands on her apron after straightening the last of the chairs and latching the door. “I’m sorry to have kept you up so late, blathering on about my silly plans.”
“They’re not silly plans. They’re quite sensible ones.”
Together they moved toward the back staircase. And even though they were plans she’d never need to put into action, he admired the cleverness and spirit behind them. He admired those qualities even more than he admired her lovely hair and eyes—and that was saying something. “You truly do have it all worked out, don’t you?”
“I do. And I’m proud of that. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished with the Three Hounds so far, but I know I could do so much more.”
“I’m certain you could.”
