"I'm glad to see you're unharmed, too, sire."
"Aye, well, Robert won't allow me near the action anymore. He thinks I'm a decrepit old man and surrounds me with a dozen bodyguards."
Cyrus clenched his teeth to keep from laughing outright, for Kilverntay was anything but decrepit. He was in his fifties, but still fit and hearty. "He's a good son."
Kilverntay chuckled and nodded. "How is Lady Grey?"
"The healer is seeing to her injuries."
"'Tis a great shame she was hurt by that miscreant. Tell her I hope she recovers quickly."
Cyrus nodded. "I want to thank you for bringing reinforcements to help us in defeating Dalacroy."
"Always glad to help out a friend and ally."
Cyrus was glad the marquess thought of him thusly. He hoped that would continue even after he conveyed his latest decision.
"As an eye witness, I'll report the events to the Privy Council," Kilverntay said. "They'll want to know how the Earl of Dalacroy met his demise."
No doubt there would be an investigation and Cyrus would likely be questioned. But with so many witnesses, surely he would not be implicated.
"I'm certain you will give me the rest of the details," Kilverntay said.
"Of course." Cyrus much preferred honesty in everything, but he was unconvinced that anyone needed to know about Elspeth's liaison with the elder Earl of Dalacroy or Henry's true motives for trying to steal the properties. As soon as possible, he needed to inform Kilverntay that he could not marry his daughter. "Could we talk inside?"
"Indeed."
Cyrus proceeded up the steps and into the great hall. Several clansmen and soldiers were gathered, drinking ale. He spotted Morrison, Elspeth's squat steward, nearby.
The man bowed. "So good to see you again, m'laird."
Cyrus introduced the marquess, standing beside him, prompting the steward to bow even deeper. "'Tis my greatest honor to meet you, m'laird."
Cyrus glanced around the great hall. "Morrison, is there a room where we might have a private meeting?"
"Of course. The library." The steward quickly waddled forward and opened a door. "You will find whisky on the side table."
"I appreciate it."
Once they were inside the wood-paneled room, lit by a narrow west-facing window, Morrison closed the door on his way out.
Cyrus headed for the side table. "Would you care for Scotch?"
"Aye. In fact, I require it." Kilverntay laughed.
Cyrus felt fortunate that the older man was in good spirits. Mayhap he would not be too angry by the close of the meeting.
After pouring two small glasses of whisky, he handed one to the marquess.
"To a good outcome of a bad situation." Kilverntay raised his glass. "Slàinte mhath."
"Indeed.Slàinte mhath." Cyrus sipped the whisky. "I appreciate your willingness to meet with me. Would you care to sit?" He motioned toward a group of chairs near the hearth.
"Glad to." Kilverntay took a seat. "What's on your mind?"
Cyrus joined him. "I've considered it for several days, and I've come to a difficult decision. I don't do this lightly."
"Go on."
