doesn’t want you to go on the foxhunt?”
Ewan turned to her, annoyed. “Dinna ye ever stop talking, English?”
“You may call me Miss Fitzsimmons. And to be truthful, I’m rarely at a loss for words.”
“’Tis just my luck,” he grumbled. For the first time Genevieve noticed the underlying current of hostility had faded.
“And you have effectively avoided the question. Why won’t your father let you come on the foxhunt?”
He sighed in resignation. “Ye heard him. He thinks I’m still a helpless bairn.”
“Fathers are naturally protective.”
“He’s no’ protective. He’s ashamed.” Then realizing he’d let something personal slip, he frowned and fell silent.
Genevieve was taken aback by his words. “I’m certain that’s not true, although I’m puzzled why he’d object based solely on your age. In England, children as young as six hunt with their fathers. Perhaps he’d change his mind if he knew that.”
“He willna change his mind. Ever.”
“Perhaps it would be beneficial if I spoke with him.”
Ewan glared at her. “Nay!”
“Why not?”
Ewan turned away, his cheeks reddening. “Because I said so.”
Just as he spoke the words, the hounds starting barking furiously. Genevieve saw that a hapless squirrel had run into the pen. The dogs began chasing it, whining when it slipped beneath the fence to safety. A large black hound that had been separated from the others and tied to a wooden pole, began barking and thrashing about viciously. Shocked, Genevieve watched as the dog snapped its binding and leaped over the fence directly toward them.
Ewan screamed in terror and dove behind Genevieve. Stunned, she didn’t move a muscle. The dog darted past them and into the forest in pursuit of the squirrel. It returned moments later when the trainer whistled angrily.
The trainer jumped the fence and addressed Ewan who still cowered behind Genevieve. “I’m right sorry about that, young master. I didna know Charlie had gotten so strong. I’ll have to double his bindings to keep ’im under control. Are ye both all right?”
Genevieve’s heart still pounded. “Thank you, we’re fine.”
Charlie approached them at last, stopping to sniff at Genevieve’s hand. Ewan trembled behind her.
“It’s all right, Ewan. Charlie’s actually quite friendly as long as you aren’t a squirrel. Why don’t you pet him?”
“Nay, I dinna want to touch him.”
“Come on then, Charlie,” the trainer said. “I’m sorry to have bothered ye both.” The dog followed at a trot, looking back at them once over his shoulder as if amused.
As soon as the hound was safely fenced in, Ewan stood and began stalking back to the castle. Genevieve hastily rose as well, brushing off her skirts and following him.
“So that’s the problem? You are afraid of dogs.”
He stopped in his tracks, his face flushed and furious. “I’m no’ afraid of dogs. Now leave me alone.”
She ignored his command. “You shouldn’t be ashamed. I used to be terrified of dogs.”
Ewan began walking again, his fists clenched at his side. “O’ course ye were. Ye’re a lass.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Do you know how I overcame my fear?”
“Somehow I have a feeling ye are going to tell me no matter how I answer.”
“My grandfather helped me by taking me down to see the dogs a little every day. Soon they got used to me and I wasn’t so afraid of them either.”
“It willna make a difference. Da knows about the dogs.” His face flushed with shame. “He knows. So just forget about it.”
Genevieve was not deterred. “Let’s not give up so easily. I have an idea. Let’s come down here to the pen everyday until the foxhunt. To start, we’ll ask the trainer, Mr.—” She paused, waiting for him to fill in a name.
He let out a breath. “Foley.”
“Foley to let the dogs sniff us through the fence. Eventually, maybe you will even be willing to pet them. Perhaps once your father sees
Ewan turned to her, annoyed. “Dinna ye ever stop talking, English?”
“You may call me Miss Fitzsimmons. And to be truthful, I’m rarely at a loss for words.”
“’Tis just my luck,” he grumbled. For the first time Genevieve noticed the underlying current of hostility had faded.
“And you have effectively avoided the question. Why won’t your father let you come on the foxhunt?”
He sighed in resignation. “Ye heard him. He thinks I’m still a helpless bairn.”
“Fathers are naturally protective.”
“He’s no’ protective. He’s ashamed.” Then realizing he’d let something personal slip, he frowned and fell silent.
Genevieve was taken aback by his words. “I’m certain that’s not true, although I’m puzzled why he’d object based solely on your age. In England, children as young as six hunt with their fathers. Perhaps he’d change his mind if he knew that.”
“He willna change his mind. Ever.”
“Perhaps it would be beneficial if I spoke with him.”
Ewan glared at her. “Nay!”
“Why not?”
Ewan turned away, his cheeks reddening. “Because I said so.”
Just as he spoke the words, the hounds starting barking furiously. Genevieve saw that a hapless squirrel had run into the pen. The dogs began chasing it, whining when it slipped beneath the fence to safety. A large black hound that had been separated from the others and tied to a wooden pole, began barking and thrashing about viciously. Shocked, Genevieve watched as the dog snapped its binding and leaped over the fence directly toward them.
Ewan screamed in terror and dove behind Genevieve. Stunned, she didn’t move a muscle. The dog darted past them and into the forest in pursuit of the squirrel. It returned moments later when the trainer whistled angrily.
The trainer jumped the fence and addressed Ewan who still cowered behind Genevieve. “I’m right sorry about that, young master. I didna know Charlie had gotten so strong. I’ll have to double his bindings to keep ’im under control. Are ye both all right?”
Genevieve’s heart still pounded. “Thank you, we’re fine.”
Charlie approached them at last, stopping to sniff at Genevieve’s hand. Ewan trembled behind her.
“It’s all right, Ewan. Charlie’s actually quite friendly as long as you aren’t a squirrel. Why don’t you pet him?”
“Nay, I dinna want to touch him.”
“Come on then, Charlie,” the trainer said. “I’m sorry to have bothered ye both.” The dog followed at a trot, looking back at them once over his shoulder as if amused.
As soon as the hound was safely fenced in, Ewan stood and began stalking back to the castle. Genevieve hastily rose as well, brushing off her skirts and following him.
“So that’s the problem? You are afraid of dogs.”
He stopped in his tracks, his face flushed and furious. “I’m no’ afraid of dogs. Now leave me alone.”
She ignored his command. “You shouldn’t be ashamed. I used to be terrified of dogs.”
Ewan began walking again, his fists clenched at his side. “O’ course ye were. Ye’re a lass.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Do you know how I overcame my fear?”
“Somehow I have a feeling ye are going to tell me no matter how I answer.”
“My grandfather helped me by taking me down to see the dogs a little every day. Soon they got used to me and I wasn’t so afraid of them either.”
“It willna make a difference. Da knows about the dogs.” His face flushed with shame. “He knows. So just forget about it.”
Genevieve was not deterred. “Let’s not give up so easily. I have an idea. Let’s come down here to the pen everyday until the foxhunt. To start, we’ll ask the trainer, Mr.—” She paused, waiting for him to fill in a name.
He let out a breath. “Foley.”
“Foley to let the dogs sniff us through the fence. Eventually, maybe you will even be willing to pet them. Perhaps once your father sees
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