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“Perhaps. If there is, I’m certain you’ll think of it. You’re cleverer than I am.”

And with that he went back to work, lifting stone after stone. He began to arrange some of them into a line.

With a defeated sigh, Meredith sat down on one of the largest boulders. She didn’t feel up to walking back just yet. She was fatigued and frustrated and boiling angry on Rhys’s behalf. Those Symmonds boys had better have cleared out by the time she returned, or she’d be breaking bottles over both their heads.

For the moment, she simply sat and watched Rhys, and the controlled wrath in his movements as he hefted and slung the rocks from one place to the other. Beneath his shirt, his muscles bulged and flexed. His face was a mask of grim determination. When stone cracked against stone, Meredith felt the echo reverberate in her spine, but he didn’t even flinch.

What must it be like, to possess that kind of power? If only she had the strength to build walls with her own two hands … She’d have already built her new guest wing for the inn.

An idea began to form in her mind.

“If you’re building with cob,” she said thoughtfully, “there’s a great deal of waiting involved. You have to build it in rises, you know. So the walls don’t buckle or crack. Just a few feet of height at a time, and you’ll need to let the walls settle between each rise. A week, at least.”

“I’m certain I’ll find ways to keep myself busy hereabouts.”

“Perhaps. But the ideal would be to have two buildings going up at the same time. While one rests, you add a layer of cob to the other. And the reverse.”

He propped one boot on a stone and looked up at her. “Are you saying I should build two cottages?”

“No.” She leaned forward, suddenly excited at the brilliance of the scheme. “I’m saying we should become partners.”

One eyebrow rose. “Isn’t that what I’ve been suggesting?”

“Business partners, not …” Her hands fluttered. “Just hear me out.”

Purposely mute, he made an expansive gesture of invitation.

“You want to build your cottage, but you don’t have laborers. I want to add on to my inn, but I lack the funds. We’ll work together and build both at the same time.” She rose from her stone perch and began pacing back and forth. “I’ll convince the men to work for us, and I’ll provide all their meals during construction. You’ll pay the wages and material costs. Once they’ve completed a rise on one building, they’ll switch to the other while it settles and cures.”

He scratched his neck and peered toward the horizon. “What’s the advantage to me, financing an addition to the inn?”

“It’s a gesture of good will.” She ceased pacing and went to stand before him. “Don’t you see? The villagers are afraid you’re going to disrupt their lives with these plans to rebuild Nethermoor Hall, and then leave them in worse straits than ever. If they see the improvements to the inn occurring at the same time … well, they won’t worry so much. No matter what happens with you and your house, Buckleigh-in-the-Moor will have come out for the better. And if the two of us are working together, they’ll stop fighting you every step of the way.”

“They?” He cocked his head and looked her up and down. “Am I truly to do this because ‘they’ won’t worry so much? Or are we talking about you and your own concerns?”

She inhaled slowly. “I … I don’t know. Both, I suppose. Does it matter?”

“Maybe not.” He studied the grit under his fingernails.

“Please, Rhys.” The wind whipped a strand of hair into her mouth, and she drew it back with one hand. “Either way, it’s going to take you just as long to build a cottage. But if you’ll allow me, I think I can persuade the local men”—and Gideon too, if she played it just right—“to give you a chance.”

“You really think they’ll take work with me?”

“If I approach them about it? Yes. This village is more than those dozen brutes who camp out in the tavern each night. There are several cottagers in the area scraping out a living from the moor, supporting families, many of whom have been here since your father’s day. They’d jump at an offer of work, if it’s presented favorably.”

He released a deep sigh. “Very well, then. You have me convinced. We’re partners.”

“Businesspartners.”

He didn’t reply—just gave her a knowing half-smile and stuck his big, powerful hand into the gap between them.

Meredith did the same, and they shook hands in a brisk, very businesslike manner. And then, for an extended moment, neither one of them let go.

“Walk with me,” she heard herself say, in an embarrassingly wistful tone. When his chin ducked in surprise, she released his hand and continued, “I mean … I’ll see about assembling a workforce tomorrow. For today, why don’t you rest? Walk back down to the village with me. We’ll take the long way, along the stream. It’s a fine day for a walk, and it will give us a chance to talk.” She added swiftly, “About the construction.”

“What of the ponies?”

“I’ll send Darryl for them later. They’ll be fine.”

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