Free Her Kilt-Clad Rogue by Julie Moffett Page A

past. If she even suspected his affection for Genevieve, she could make trouble that he would be hard-pressed to handle.
    Christ’s wounds, he had to do something to extricate himself from this intolerable situation before he lost any of the gains he had made so far with Genevieve.
    But how in hell’s name was he going to do that with Catherine watching his every move?

Chapter 5
    As the days for the costume ball and foxhunt approached, the castle whirled in a frenzy of activity. The kitchen was a busy place both day and night, and Mrs. MacDougal appeared harried every time Genevieve saw her.
    She had been formally introduced to Catherine, who had barely acknowledged her existence. She’d seen the woman about the castle, ordering people to and fro as if she already lived there. Maidservants scurried about scrubbing floors and beating the rugs.
    Several nights in a row, Ewan and Genevieve ate supper alone at the big table in the Great Hall. Malcom, Connor, Catherine and her entourage apparently dined far later in the evening. Genevieve tried hard not to be jealous when she saw Connor and Catherine strolling about the castle grounds, but she was.
    And she hated herself for it.
    On day five of Catherine’s visit, Genevieve had the unexpected opportunity to get a closer look at the woman. Catherine swept into the Great Hall with Connor and Malcom trailing close behind, apparently determined to have an early supper. Genevieve gave Ewan a discreet nod of her head and the boy reluctantly stood until Catherine was seated.
    Unlike some women, Catherine was even more beautiful close up. Her long black hair was intertwined with threads of gold that glittered in the candlelight, complimenting her black velvet gown. Just being in the same room with her made Genevieve feel even more dowdy than usual.
    As she had expected, Catherine barely even registered her presence, never once addressing her directly, considering her as naught more than a servant. The most awkward part of the evening came when the guests were served the main course. As soon as the plate had been set before her, Genevieve knew she was in trouble.
    Bile rose in her throat as she studied the brown lump on her plate. “Is this…haggis?”
    Connor smiled. “Aye. Have ye tried it before?”
    Genevieve shook her head. She’d heard her grandfather speak often of the Scottish delicacy. Oh, how he’d laugh when she covered her mouth with a cloth and gagged at the thought of having to eat a sheep’s heart, liver and lungs all mashed together after being simmered in the stomach sac. She should have better prepared herself for such Scottish customs, but so much had happened since arriving at the castle that she’d simply forgotten.
    Genevieve searched for a polite answer. “I…I haven’t had the honor.”
    Ewan took a bite, chewed. “Ye look a bit green. Eat up.”
    Genevieve tore her gaze away from her supper. “Ah, I’m not feeling well. Perhaps I should retire.”
    Connor laughed, knowing at once what had distressed her. “I’m afraid we’ve offended Miss Fitzsimmons’ English sensibilities wi’ our food offering.”
    “No, not at all. I’m aware it’s a Scottish delicacy. I’m just not that hungry.”
    Ewan harrumphed, lifting another bite of haggis to his mouth. “Ye were eating fine a minute ago.”
    “Ah, well, I…”
    Connor held up a hand, his eyes twinkling. “Please stay, Miss Fitzsimmons. I’ll have another plate brought out to ye.”
    “No, please. That won’t be necessary.”
    Nonetheless, Connor insisted. He also persuaded her to stay and chat for far longer than she considered proper for the governess. Genevieve had just thought to excuse herself again when the conversation suddenly turned to her.
    “So, the governess is English. How fascinating.” Catherine’s voice carried just a hint of distaste.
    Genevieve looked up from the table. Despite the fact that Catherine’s comment hadn’t been directly addressed to her, pride dictated