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“So what’s next on the agenda? No White Room. No more whisky. She enjoyed our sparring, so that didn’t seem to work, either. Did you sleep here all last night?” Enrick asked.
Grant shot him a look that said he did not think the situation was the least bit humorous. “We’ll eat, then I’ll show her the grounds.” Grant stood, then started to stalk off to his chamber.
“She’s in your shower.”
Grant paused and looked back at Enrick.
“I didn’t see her. I thought you were in the shower, but she called out to let me know that you weren’t there.”
“Bloody hell.” Grant turned and went to the kitchen. “Let’s get some breakfast, then.”
Enrick glanced at Grant’s kilt. “Are you…going to wear your great kilt for the rest of the time the lass is here?”
“Don’t say another word,” Grant growled, giving his brother a look that said he was serious.
Enrick just grinned.
Darby, Grant’s personal valet, hurried to meet with Grant. He was perfectly dressed as always, with every red hair in place, but judging from his pinched brows and lips, Grant suspected Darby had met Colleen. Hopefully, not naked in the shower.
“A lass was in your bedchamber when I went in to change the linens. Though Iona usually does the job, she was sent away for two weeks, and I must do it now.” Darby sniffed a little at the notion. “The woman in question screeched when she saw me and told me to leave at once.”
“Was she dressed?” Enrick asked, grinning.
“In a towel. I’m sorry, my laird. I didn’t realize she was in your room. But she is a wolf. Have you taken a mate? That changes everything, and you will have to let me know when to straighten your chamber from now on.”
Enrick, the next most serious of his brothers, was still grinning.
“No. She is the castle’s owner,” Grant said, his voice tight with annoyance. He’d forgotten Darby had been away the past couple of weeks, got in early this morning, and hadn’t been here when the lass arrived.
Darby’s mouth hung agape. Then he glanced at Enrick for confirmation, as if Grant would jest about such a thing.
“Aye, she is,” Enrick said, still smirking.
“Oh. I may need to look for other employment, then. Maybe with the MacNeill clan at Argent Castle,” Darby said with great regret. He’d served Grant forever and was the most likable valet Grant had ever had.
“Why? What did you say to upset the lass?” Grant asked, not knowing what else could go wrong.
“She told me to tell you that you were sleeping in the White Room tonight and for a very long time after that. I told her she’d better watch her manners or she’d find herself locked out beyond the castle walls.”
Enrick chuckled.
“And she said?” Grant asked. He was not moving to the White Room.
Darby opened his mouth to speak, but the lass spoke instead.
“I said…” Colleen informed Grant as she swept into the room like a she-wolf with a mission—an alpha she-wolf who was very much in charge, her gaze locked onto his, her expression combative. “I might need to find…”
“Find what?” Grant asked, standing tall and growling now.
She shook her head. “Maybe we need to speak of this privately.”
If the lass thought she could send him and his pack off the properties to install some other wolf pack to manage her place, she would have a battle on her hands. He and his ancestors had managed the castle and grounds for seven hundred years. He knew everything about the place, and who to contact when anything went wrong. This was the only home they had known. And her grandmother had treated them like family. Neda Playfair would never have moved them out. Besides, the will made some stipulation to allow the family to stay here.
If they walked out today, Lady Colleen Playfair would be in a world of trouble.
***
“In private?” Colleen said, folding her arms as she regarded Grant with an alpha’s stare.
From when she’d first arrived, Colleen did not think she had come on too strong with Grant MacQuarrie. Then again, considering he was a Highlander who probably wasn’t used to a woman telling him what to do, maybe she had. Although, come to think of it, her grandmother must have been running things until she died. Maybe she’d been easygoing with Grant and his kin and allowed them to do as they pleased. Her cousins had warned Colleen that if she didn’t play hardball with Grant, he’d bulldoze right over her, and she wouldn’t have a say in anything—despite the castle being hers. She had meant to be nice, even knowing he was trying to scare her off.
She arched a brow when he didn’t agree to meet with her in private.
“Come this way,” he said, his voice gruff, annoyed, as if she had pushed him to the edge.
She hadn’t gotten that far yet. Wait until he knew her next plan of attack. That would teach him to take her on.
After Julia warned her what Grant had planned, Colleen had tried to go along with it—for the time being—to show him that he didn’t need to feel threatened.
She wasn’t sure what had made her snap and gather up her mental sword to fight him, but she suspected it was because she’d been sick with no bathroom close by when she was trying to sleep last night. No way had she wanted to sleep in Grant’s bed—with him. She only vaguely remembered being closer to the bathroom. Like she would have been in her own home. In her groggy state, when she retired after another trip to the bathroom, she had believed that was her bed.
She wondered how long he had remained there before he left his chamber.
She was tired and cross, and she wasn’t about to take any more crap from the Highlander. He was probably just as fatigued and annoyed. They both needed naps—in separate beds.
He ran his hand over his disheveled hair. His face sported whiskers and his hair was mussed from having just woken up, making him look ruggedly sexy and just a little barbaric. He looked like he’d love to take her on in the inner bailey, to fight a duel to see just who would win. And truly? She was ready.
The she-wolf was more stubborn than any Grant had ever met.
Colleen smiled, the look pure vixen, Grant thought. Dressed in warmer clothes today because the temperature had dropped, she wore burgundy brushed-suede boots that added an inch and a half to her petite height, snug-fitting jeans that showed off her toned legs, and a mint-green cashmere sweater that hugged her breasts. She looked…edible. Not hot and sexy, but soft and tasty.
