Her Kilt-Clad Rogue (4 page)

She leaned against the door, raising her voice. “Ewan, I wanted to thank you for your small welcoming gift. And seeing how you are so fond of snakes, we shall start our lessons tomorrow with a thorough study of the reptile.”

Turning on her heel, she marched back toward her room, when the door to Ewan’s room abruptly flew open. Hands on her hips, she turned to face him.

“It didna bite ye, did it?” His eyes glinted with triumph.

“I didn’t give it the opportunity to do so.”

“Then why are ye fashing so?”

“Did I say I was upset? I do, however, recall saying that you gave me an excellent idea for our science lesson tomorrow.”

“Ye were frightened.”

“I don’t frighten so easily.”

“Ye will next time. And if ye tell my da about this, I’ll deny it.”

“I don’t intend to tell him anything. As long as you are in the schoolroom bright and early in the morning.”

He snorted. “Blackmail? Is that the best ye can do, English? I willna come. Ye canno’ make me.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I can’t make you attend your lessons. But your father can. And he told me he intends to stay at the castle for some time until he’s convinced you are working hard at your lessons. It seems that you tend to perform in a more satisfactory manner when he is in residence.”

Genevieve noticed he flinched at the mention of his father and she wondered if the reaction was motivated by fear or anger. Yet as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, she saw she was wrong on both points.

“Da is staying?” She saw unmistakable excitement in his eyes. “Did he say for how long?”

Surprised, Genevieve realized the boy had just inadvertently revealed his weak spot. Ewan desperately loved his father.

She shrugged, careful not to seem too interested. “He didn’t say exactly, but it is my understanding that it will be for at least a few weeks.”

She watched as a shadow descended over his eyes. “Or mayhap longer if I tell him I dinna like ye or that ye aren’t learning me proper. And if I dinna learn proper, he’ll have to find a new governess. And next time she willna be English.”

Genevieve stiffened, surprised by the venom in his voice. “I’m afraid it’s not going to be so easy, Ewan. I have no place else to go and your father has extended me his full support. Whether you like it or not, we are going to work together. I’ll expect you in the schoolroom tomorrow.”

He gave her a malicious look. “Just see if ye can find me. This is my home, English, no’ yours. Mark my words, ye’ll be gone before ye’ve been here a fortnight.”

Genevieve crossed her arms against her chest, refusing to be worried or intimidated by his threats, despite the fact that he could very well be correct. “No you mark
my
words, Ewan Douglas. You
will
learn and eventually come to enjoy it. I will not give up. And I warn you, we English are a very stubborn people, perhaps even as much as the Scottish.”

“I willna come,” he shouted, slamming his door on her.

Genevieve took a deep breath and returned to her room, more shaken than she cared to admit by the encounter. How in the world would she breech the hatred this boy had for her and her heritage? And what if she failed? Where would she go? The alternatives were too frightening to contemplate. She couldn’t fail, she
wouldn’t
.

Nonetheless, she had no plan if the boy failed to show up for his lessons. Ewan was right. This was his castle. She did not know her way around here and could hardly be expected to spend the day looking for him. She felt assured she could count on Connor to help her the first few days, but after that, he’d certainly begin to be annoyed by her inability to manage the boy. She’d have to use her wits to figure this out.

Well, she had no time to dwell on it now. Lucinda would be coming momentarily to lead her to supper and she had yet to dress. She made her way back to the wardrobe, taking care to notice where she walked. Finding the snake and doing a quick look about the room for any other assorted “gifts” from Ewan would be a priority after supper.

She chose a dark green gown from the wardrobe and gingerly took it down, shaking it out just to be certain the folds of material held no further unexpected guests. She donned it and smoothed out the skirts. Leaning over, she carefully examined her shoes and put them on just as Lucinda knocked at the door, announcing that supper was ready.

Standing, Genevieve followed Lucinda downstairs. She was surprised when the girl led her to the Great Hall where Connor sat talking softly with his father in front of a blazing fire. One end of a long trundle table had been covered with a white tablecloth with four places set. Both men rose when they saw her and she summoned a confident smile she did not feel and walked toward them.

“You are prompt.” Connor offered her his elbow. Genevieve hesitated a moment before she took it, acutely aware of the strength in his forearm as her fingertips lightly touched the soft material of his coat. Although it was all very proper, Genevieve couldn’t stop the way her pulse jumped by just being in close proximity to him.

“O’ course, she’s prompt,” Malcom said with a twinkle in his eye. “She’s English, is she no’? ’Tis one thing ye can say about the English. They are ne’er late for a meal.”

She smiled and Connor chuckled as he helped her into her seat. As the small talk dwindled, the mood at the table soured. After the servants had filled their wine cups for a second time, Connor began drumming his fingers impatiently on the table.

“Where in the devil is Ewan? I’ll no’ have that lad delaying our supper again.”

Clearly annoyed, Malcom summoned a young servant and ordered him to find the boy. The servant appeared visibly upset at the request, but scurried off to try. Genevieve got the distinct impression that this kind of thing happened often.

Again the conversation lulled and Genevieve sipped her wine wondering how much longer they would wait before starting dinner. After a few minutes, Malcom pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it, grumbling softy under his breath. The scowl deepened on Connor’s face before he threw back the rest of his wine and stood up.

“I’ll go find the lad myself.”

Genevieve held up a hand. “Wait. I know it’s rather presumptuous to make a suggestion on my first day, but if you would indulge me, I have an idea that might help in this matter.”

Connor leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. “Please do grace us wi’ your suggestion, Miss Fitzsimmons.” His blue eyes studied her intently.

Malcom leaned forward on the table, his elbows on the table. “Aye, please do.”

Even the servant who stood motionless by the door that separated the Great Hall from the cooking area, seemed interested in what she had to say.

Genevieve swallowed hard, the taste of wine suddenly bitter in her mouth. “I would suggest removing Ewan’s plate from the table. If he cannot bring it upon himself to arrive at supper in a timely fashion, then he should go without.”

“Go without supper?” Malcom appeared slightly shocked.

“Yes. And the servants and those in the kitchen should be warned not to provide him any food—not even a scrap of bread.”

“Surely ye canna mean to starve the lad?” Connor had a trace of exasperation in his voice.

“I assure you, he’ll not starve. But I do think it will cause him to reconsider his decision to make us wait for our supper. The rule should be consistent. If he is not at the table, washed and ready to eat by five o’clock, then his plate will be removed and there will be no food until morning.”

Malcom gazed at her. “’Tis a bit harsh, is it no’?”

“If we do not set limits with him, then he will not know how to behave properly.”

Malcom stroked his beard, looking at her thoughtfully. “Ye understand that by doing this, ye declare war wi’ the boy, then? ’Tis a risky strategy wi’ him, ye know.”

“I know.” Seeing how she stood on shaky ground with Ewan as it was, this directive would certainly not endear her to him, and she had no doubt he would figure out who had issued it. It would have been much safer to let Connor deal with this particular behavior problem and hold her tongue. She was certain she’d have enough matters to deal with as soon as they started their lessons tomorrow. But she had followed her instincts with the boy and now simply prayed for the best.

She continued with a firmness she didn’t feel. “He cannot be allowed to direct the course of the activities in this castle. This should hold true whether or not you are in the castle, Mr. Douglas. But it will not work without your support and authority.”

Connor stared at her for a moment longer with his penetrating blue eyes and then raised his hand. The servant was instantly at his side.

“Remove Ewan’s plate from the table and inform the staff that they are not to provide even a morsel o’ food for him tonight. If I find out that anyone has disobeyed my orders, they will lose a week’s pay. Do ye understand?”

The servant swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously in his throat. “Aye, sir.”

“Excellent. Then bring us our supper.”

The mood of the evening ruined, Genevieve ate her soup quietly, nearly finishing before Ewan deigned to appear. To his credit he had washed and changed his shirt, but his breeches and boots were still filthy. He ignored her as he slid into his seat.

“Da, ye should o’ seen what happened in the chicken coop today. The rooster went mad, chasing the hens about and sending feathers flying in the air. Old Mr. McKay chased him about, falling twice on his arse. Me and Jamie jumped in and chased the rooster until it simply wore out. Mr. McKay took the bird and said he intended to wring its neck, but Mrs. McKay said ’twas no one else loud enough to wake him from sleep, so the rooster would have to stay.”

He reached for a cup and then frowned when he realized it was missing. “Where is my cup? And my plate?”

Connor took a sip of his wine and regarded the boy over his cup. “If ye canna make it to supper on time, then ye willna eat.”

A look of disbelief crossed Ewan’s face. “What? But Da, I…”

“Ye heard what I said, Ewan. I’ve had enough o’ your excuses these past few months since your mum died.”

Ewan appealed to his grandfather. “Grandda, surely
ye
canna mean to let me go hungry?”

Malcom shrugged, focusing his attention on his dinner. Genevieve watched as the boy’s gaze finally landed on her and his blue eyes grew hard.

“This is your doing.” He pushed away from the table angrily and came to his feet. “Ye told them to starve me, didna ye, English? Ye probably told him about the snake too. Well, I shouldna be surprised. Ye think ye’re in charge here, but ye’re no’.”

Connor stood, his knife clattering to the table. A deathly silence fell over the room. Genevieve realized she was holding her breath.

“That is quite enough, Ewan. First, ye will apologize to Miss Fitzsimmons, and then ye will go to your room. I believe ye now understand what ye must do in order to receive your meals. I suggest ye think hard and well before ye decide to disobey again.”

Ewan stood, still glaring at her, his fists at his side and bristling with hostility. “Sorry.” He stalked away from the table without another glance backward.

After a moment Connor sat back down and calmly resumed eating. Genevieve’s appetite had fled and she could only push the food around on her plate. Malcom, trying valiantly to revive the dinner conversation, began speaking about the lovely spring weather. She appreciated the effort and did her best to seem interested, but was thankful when Connor inquired if everyone had finished the meal. She practically leaped from her chair, wishing for nothing more than to retire to her chamber and end this horrid day.

Both men stood and Connor came around the table and offered her his arm, saying that he intended to escort her back to her room. She protested, but he insisted. Hesitantly she took his arm, her elbow linking with his, her fingers resting lightly atop his forearm. She marveled at how tall he stood and yet how he carried his height with a graceful elegance. The warmth of him beckoning her nearer.

She bid Malcom good night. They walked down the hall and climbed the stairs until arriving at her door. Connor released her arm and she reached for the latch until he grabbed her hand. Still holding it, he turned her around, deftly backing her up against the door.

“’Twas a bold move ye made wi’ Ewan tonight. I like that ye took a stand wi’ him.”

Oh, God, how her heart jolted and her pulse pounded every time he touched her. He disturbed her senses in every way. “I…um, do think it is the right course of action, Mr. Douglas.”

“Connor.”

He stood much too close. She swallowed hard. “Connor.”

“I agree wi’ ye. But it willna make your task any easier.”

“I never expected this position to be easy.” She pressed back against the door wondering how she could politely extract her hand. He seemed in no hurry to release it and a traitorous part of her openly enjoyed the physical contact. “But I do believe I shall manage somehow.”

“O’ that I have no doubt.” He smiled and Genevieve could not help but respond. His good nature had always enchanted her.

God’s mercy, better not to think of those things
.

His mouth quirked. “Now, Genevieve, why didna ye tell me o’ the snake?”

“Snake?” She squeaked the word. “Oh, that.”

“Aye, that.”

She straightened her shoulders and firmly extracted her hand, once again a governess in charge. Except he still had her trapped between him and the door. “Nothing really. I happened to come across one in my room, that’s all.”

“Courtesy o’ Ewan. Why didna ye tell me?”

“There are some matters I am quite capable of handling for myself.”

He leaned forward, causing her to press back tighter against the door to avoid touching his body. “So, I presume that means ye dinna want to me make certain it is gone from your chamber.”

“Oh, would you?” The words came out in a relieved rush.

He smiled and bent his dark head toward her. For a paralyzing, breathtaking moment she was certain he would kiss her, but instead he reached around her waist and unfastened the latch to the door. She would have fallen backwards across the threshold if not for his hand firmly at the small of her back. For a brief moment, they stood there, gazing into each other’s eyes.