“Good morning, Uncle, Mr. Kilgore.” I nodded toward each, amused that my sudden entrance into the grand room startled them. They stepped together and faced me, as though they were about to defend the giant tapestry that hung on the wall behind them. I knew little of the King of England or the reason why he and Kilgore would hold such an interest in the shipyard. But, Uncle James shared his secret with no one, and I seriously doubted that he would want this Englishman to have knowledge of his commission in the service of Henry Sinclair. I stopped Lachlan spreading the information like pollen in a spring wind.
“William.” Lachlan forced a smile.
“Have you not been told it is rude to enter a room without first knocking?” Kilgore asked with a look of disdain.
“No, Mr. Kilgore, I generally find an open door when in the home of my kin.” I smiled at him and walked into the beams of sunlight that shone through the huge window.
“You’re a rude boy,” Kilgore sneered. “Someone should teach you manners. How long have you been listening to our conversation?”
“I just came from the kitchen where, alas, I was unable to get food,” I replied, avoiding the question. “It seems I missed the morning meal.”
“That should teach you to rise earlier,” Kilgore said with a scowl. “But from what I have seen of you, I doubt it will.”
“My tardiness results entirely from having been given such plush and comfortable quarters.” I ran my finger over the oak frame of a finely made, down-stuffed, satin covered chair.
“What do you want?” Lachlan’s abrupt harsh tone caught me by surprise.
“I want,” I glanced at both, “nothing other than to wish you a good morning, Uncle.”
“Well, you have done so. Now leave.” Kilgore said.
For a brief moment my eyes locked with Lachlan’s. I was certain that he knew that I had overheard his conversation and would not let him betray the clan. He looked away, and then turned his back to me.
A knock on the door, broke the uncomfortable silence.
“Come,” Lachlan called, and Alexander entered the room.
“Ah, someone with the manners to knock.” Kilgore turned his eyes from me and gently bowed toward Alexander.
The look in Alexander’s eyes when he saw me reminded me of my loft mate, the cat, eyeing the unsuspecting rat. Even Alexander’s ears seemed to flatten against his head, as his eyes narrowed and his lips quivered.
“Uncle, I hoped I might interest you and Mr. Kilgore in some sport this morning. A large stag has been seen in the lower glen. Two of Mr. Kilgore’s companions have already accepted my offer. Will you both join me?” Alexander walked around me like a crab on sand.
“A fine idea, Alexander,” Lachlan remarked. “However, my brother Robert will be joining us to celebrate the feast of Trinity and I should be here to welcome him.”
“Mr. Kilgore, will you join me?” Alexander asked, not taking his eyes off me for more than a moment.
“A hunt would stimulate the blood,” Kilgore said. “Your uncle and I have a small amount of business to conclude. Ready a horse for me and I shall happily join you.”
“I too would love the thrill of a hunt!” I said with enthusiasm. No one spoke. Alexander looked toward Lachlan, and Kilgore stared directly at me. I broke the prolonged moment of silence. “Ah, I am an unwanted player.”
“Perhaps you should join the side of the stag,” Kilgore offered, and Alexander laughed.
“Now that would be good sport.” Alexander curled his lip at me, pulling back an imaginary bow string. “Very well, Uncle, I will show Mr. Kilgore the majesty of a true Scottish stag.”
“Aye, it will be a good contrast to the true Scottish ass you’ve already showed him.” I stood my ground, eyes fixed on Alexander who stiffened at my remark. “Do the laws of Scotland not prohibit an Englishman from killing our game? If they don’t, they should.”
“We have all had quite enough from you, William,” Lachlan said stepping between Alexander and me.
“Aye,” I took a moment to look directly at each of the three men, “well, enjoy the hunt, then.” I turned and left the room.