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“One of the first steps Vicky took at Kinglas was to remove most of the animal heads. She said they attracted moths and were a dusting nightmare for the maids.”
Angus gloomily sucked on his pipe. “A sad day. I fair wept into my dram, seein’ our history come down like that.”
“You had more than a dram,” Grant replied. “Nor did you weep. You yelled at poor Vicky at some length, as I recall.”
“AndIrecall that the lassie yelled right back,” Angus retorted. “Besides, all I was doin’ was teachin’ family history to her.”
Kade, who stood with a shoulder propped against the mantel, snorted. “Is that what we’re calling that particular incident? A history lesson?”
Angus adopted a dignified look. “I was simply explainin’ things, but our countess refused to listen.”
“No, you refused to back down until Nick threatened to toss you into the loch,” Grant said.
“Och, the laird sided with me, ye ken.”
Kade shook his head. “Grandda, I distinctly remember Nick was going to throw you into Loch Long.”
“Yer mistaken lad. I was there, ye ken.”
“We wereallthere, unfortunately,” Grant said. “You’re off the mark, Grandda.”
“Fah,” Angus replied, curling a lip.
Kathleen chuckled. “I have to agree with the countess. I’m not fond of animal heads littering the walls, either.”
“There are mounted heads in our Wiltshire manor house,” Jeannie said.
The girl had given up on broadswords and was now craning up to pluck a big old yew bow from the wall.
“Only a few in Papa’s library. One hardly notices them,” Kathleen replied.
“Except for that Christmas when you draped them in mistletoe and stuck candles on the antlers. That was fun.”
Kathleen winced. “Please don’t remind me.”
“It didn’t turn out well?” Grant asked.
“I basically set the room on fire.”
He laughed.
“These ones are much nicer than Papa’s old things,” Jeannie said as she pointed the bow at the twelve-point buck. “Can you imagine how difficult it must have been to shoot him?”
Kathleen crinkled her nose. “I’d rather not.”
Jeannie tried to bend the bowstring, without much success. “I think it would be exciting. Like Robin Hood and his comrades in Nottingham Forest.”
“It takes a great deal of skill and strength,” Kade said. “And if you only wound the poor animal, you often have to spend hours chasing it down. You cannot let it suffer.”
Jeannie frowned. “That part doesn’t sound like fun.”
“Definitely not,” Grant quietly added.
Kathleen shot him a curious look. “Did that ever happen to you?”
It was a memory he particularly hated. “Yes, I was hunting a stag. It wasn’t with a bow, but my shot missed the mark. Took almost a full day to track the poor fellow down.”
He’d only been seventeen at the time and still mad for hunting. When he’d flubbed the shot, the poor beast had taken off into the woods around Kinglas. Nick had ordered Grant not to come home until he’d tracked the wounded animal down. Their father had drummed that rule into their heads from an early age. Always respect the animal, and never let it suffer.
