“Well?” Mr Tate snapped rudely.
Tahlia’s mouth fell open at the abruptness. Her first instinct was to lambast him for being so offensive, but then she reminded herself that she hadn’t actually made an appointment to see him. Still, that didn’t give him the right to be so ill-mannered.
“I am sorry to arrive unannounced like this, but my late uncle informed me that I was to pass a message on to you as soon as I received his note.”
“Well, what is it?” Mr Tate interrupted.
Connor’s ears pricked up. He listened attentively to the words and knew immediately that the man was indeed trying to hide something. Was that an accent in his voice? Was that why the man was trying to shield his brogue with terse words and rudeness? Connor moved toward the fire. He moved slowly and casually to mask his tension, and felt considerably safer now he didn’t have his back facing the door. Curious, he watched Tahlia try to engage the man in conversation.
“Henry said that I was to tell you face-to-face, and that I was to do so as a matter of urgency,” she prevaricated.
In reality, while Tahlia was pretending to remember the message, she was in fact studying the contents of the desk. It was strange that the room, largely as neat as a pin, had piles of papers on the desk which had been rifled through. Copious amounts of parchment had been left in alarmingly tilted piles which looked ready to topple over at any moment.
Tahlia surreptitiously watched his face turn ruddy and wondered if he intended to ask her to leave. Now that she was sitting in his house she realised how ridiculous she sounded, but was quite enjoying the part she had chosen to play. It was a relief that Connor hadn’t chosen to interrupt her. She flicked a glance toward him and read the steady reassurance in his gaze. It was all she needed to see to know that he too suspected there was something not right about this.
“Well?”
There was something in Mr Tate’s stillness that warned her he was dangerous.
“He said to tell you that the new location for the shoots is in Scotland?” She said with a frown.
Mr Tate froze and stared at her. It was clearly not what he had been expecting.
“What?” he demanded briskly.
“My uncle said to tell you that-”
“Yes, I got that, but what the hell is he telling me for?” Tate demanded with a scowl.
Tahlia shrugged amiably. “I think he assumed you would know what to do about it.”
Disturbingly, Mr Tate gave no reaction at all to her news. He rose from his desk, walked to the door, closed it, and then resumed his seat.
“Say that again.” His voice was little more than a hushed whisper but held a sinister tone to it that was alarming.
Once again, she repeated the message and turned her curious gaze on Connor, who pursed his lips thoughtfully but still didn’t speak.
“Well, now that I have passed the message on, I will be on my way,” she said gaily as she pushed out of her chair. “I am sorry for disturbing you.”
Inwardly, she was thoroughly enjoying the ruse, and would have had a lot more fun from the situation if it hadn’t felt so deuced uncomfortable. She looked at Mr Tate expectantly, silently willing him to do something–anything; to show her some kind of reaction. A blink would have been better than the absolute stillness, and that hard, penetrating stare.
Suddenly, he sat back in his seat as though she had taken the wind out of his sails. He stared blankly at the desk-top for a moment before his gaze flew up to meet hers.
“What do you think it means?” he asked in confusion.
Tahlia shrugged. “I don’t know. I assumed you would know.”
“I don’t. It doesn’t make any sense to me,” Tate replied thoughtfully.
Connor shrugged. “Well, we will be on our way. Now that we have passed the message on we will leave you to find out what it is all about.”
“Who else have you told about this?” Tate demanded.
His voice whipped harshly across the room, and made them both stare at him in surprise.
“Nobody,” Tahlia replied nervously.
“Has your uncle written to anybody else?”