Hero of a Highland Wolf (15 page)

Enrick smiled. “You know, I don't think she would have had to do so for you to change your mind.”

“I had every intention of moving her here,” Grant said, not wanting his brother to think he was so soft.

Three men knocked on the door. “You said you wished us to move furniture, my laird?”

“Aye, return the furnishings that were here before the painting was done. I have changed my mind about moving the furniture from the lady's chamber,” Grant said, still shivering from his dunk in the cold North Sea.

“I'll have Maynard bring you some hot tea, too,” Enrick said, smirking, then left Grant to his shower.

Grant had barely dressed when Maynard arrived with a tray in hand, Darby accompanying him, which surprised him even more.

“What's going on?” he asked.

“The lass is taking her meal in her room,” Maynard quickly said.

That part Grant understood. Why they had brought
his
meal up here was what he didn't comprehend.

“We thought you might want to be close by in case she is suffering from the ordeal, my laird,” Darby said, looking stiff and uncomfortable.

“Is she feeling bad?” Grant asked, shoving his shoes on, concerned about her health.

“If you were a wee lassie half-drowned in the icy water and banged up against the rocks, wouldn't you be?” Darby asked.

Grant conceded his valet was right. “Aye, of course, I'll see to her.”

“To eat with her, maybe?” Maynard asked, looking hopeful.

Grant studied them for a moment. “Set the tray on my table. I'll see if she wishes the company first.” He couldn't assume she would.

“But you'll stay close at hand if she needs you, aye, my laird?” Darby asked.

“What is this all about?” Grant asked, suspecting his men were up to something more than concern for the lass.

“You should mate her,” Darby whispered, as if Colleen might be able to hear him through all the stone walls dividing the rooms.

“What brought this all on?” Grant asked, surprised as hell. Though he suspected his people thought his mating would ensure they never had to worry about the owner of the property deciding to get rid of the pack.

“She saved Ollie,” Darby said, as if that said it all.

Maynard nodded emphatically.

“Aye, but that doesn't mean the lass is interested in staying here or mating with me.” Or that he wished to mate her. He'd considered it briefly, but the ramifications of this being for a lifetime, since they lived very long lives, and concern that she'd get homesick and want to return to America…

“She hasn't been mated in a really long time,” Darby said, as if that should make all the difference in the world.

Grant frowned at him, then folded his arms. “Have you been checking into her background?”

Darby stiffened further. “We had to be certain she would suit.”

“You mean, suit me?” Grant was amused, though he couldn't let on.

“Aye, of course, my laird. Not me,” Darby said, sounding indignant.

Maynard tried to stifle a chuckle.

Grant attempted to keep a straight face, barely managing. “Well…would she?”

“Would she what?” Darby asked, looking puzzled.

“Suit? Me?”

“Well, she has not been mated in a very long time.”

Grant almost laughed. “Was that the only remarkable thing you learned about the lass?” He wasn't about to tell Darby that he had also done some checking up on her once she came into the inheritance. So he knew she'd been mated twice. But was not currently mated. No offspring, and they had seemed to be happy matings. Could she have no children of her own?

“She had two mates,” Darby whispered. “Both died of legitimate causes, no foul play, and she had nothing to do with their deaths.”

“You're worried about me.” Grant was surprised, amused, and pleased.

“Aye, always, my laird,” Darby said. “But I believe you will be safe with her.”

“Thank you. I will check on the lass, then.” Grant waited for them to leave. He wasn't going to speak with her while Darby and Maynard breathed down his neck.

“Do…you need any help in…well…” Darby glanced at Maynard, who motioned for him to get on with it. “With…courting the lass? We could ensure you had picnic lunches, meals set out in the gardens at a table for two…”

“It's supposed to storm the rest of the week.”

“Aye, well, later. Whenever the weather is good. Or we could—”

“Nay, I'm not courting the lass. She is the owner of the castle, nothing more.”

“She saved Ollie,” Darby reminded him.

“Aye, she was a brave lass to do so, but as I said, it doesn't mean she wishes to join our pack or be mated to me. Off with the both of you now so I can ask if she wishes to dine with me tonight.”

“Aye, of course,” Darby said, ushering Maynard out of the chamber.

Grant wondered if his brothers knew anything about this as he stepped into the hall and knocked on Colleen's door, half expecting her to say she was too tired to eat with him or anyone else.

Yet he was hoping she might consider dining with him. He thought he might enjoy courting her—but without his people pushing him to do so.

Still chilled to the bone, Colleen sat by the fire in her emerald velvet robe, Norse-decorated sheepskin boots, and nothing else, intending to slip into bed afterward. She sipped her hot tea and was about to spoon up some of the fish stew Maynard had so thoughtfully brought up to her when a knock on the door sounded.

“Yes?” she called out. She was exhausted and glad to eat up here and not in front of Grant's clan tonight. Thankfully, she was okay, except for still being chilled and weary.

“It's me, Grant.”

A little more than surprised, though she suspected he wanted to ensure she was uninjured, she said, “You can come in.”

He opened the door and stood there, taking her in with a sweep of his gaze. “Are you all right?” He was frowning and looked concerned.

“Tired, cold still, but getting warmer. How about you? And Ollie?”

“No need to worry about me. Ollie's fine. Grounded. And so is his friend Troy. But otherwise he is safe and sound, thanks to you. Would you mind too much if I joined you for dinner?”

“Here?” she asked. She wasn't properly dressed to eat with Grant in the bedchamber or anywhere else tonight. And why wouldn't he be eating with his pack?

“Aye, if you don't mind.”

She hesitated. He would never guess she was naked under the robe. “I'd like that very much. Come, join me.” She thought he meant to share her meal right then and there.

But he said, “I'll be right back.”

Before she could consider removing her robe and throwing on some jeans and a sweater, he returned with a tray of food, and she realized Maynard must have also left Grant's meal in his room and Grant wanted company.

“You didn't plan to eat with your people tonight?”

“I wanted to be close by in case you needed anything,” he said, sitting down at the table with her. He sounded genuinely apprehensive.

His concern touched her. “I really am fine.”

The square oak table in her room seemed even smaller when trying to accommodate Grant's long legs. His knees brushed hers when he sat down and felt wickedly seductive. She was shocked at the touch, but more so when his mouth curved up marginally.

“I want to thank you for rescuing Ollie,” he said.

“He needed help. I was the closest one who could reach him,” Colleen said matter-of-factly. She would have done it for anyone.

She took a deep breath and exhaled, wanting to discuss another matter. “I've been pondering over some of what you told me earlier about your father's drowning. Do you think my dad was responsible for Robert MacQuarrie's death? And your mother's?” Colleen asked, needing to know the truth.

“I believe Theodore Playfair had the most to gain from my father's death. Or he thought he did. He resented that Neda doted on my brothers and me. And he fought with her over wanting to manage the estates.”

“His drinking, I'm sure, contributed to the way my grandmother felt. I imagine that the news didn't go over well with my father,” Colleen said, dipping a spoon into the stew.

“Aye. You are right on both accounts. I don't know about my mother. Maybe Theodore felt if Eleanor was gone, my father would be so distraught that he couldn't continue to manage the properties. My father was in bad shape for quite a while. My mother would never have been on the cliffs during a storm or at any other time.

“She had three toddlers to care for. She adored us and was very happy. My father was terribly depressed when she died. The whole clan pulled together to watch out for him. If he had died on the cliffs closer to the time my mother drowned, we might have assumed he did so out of grief. But years later? Nay.”

Colleen agreed with Grant's assumption. She watched as he buttered his bread and waited until he'd finished eating the slice to pose another question. “I hate to ask, but was my father around when your dad was so depressed?”

Grant scooped up some of his stew. “Nay. Many believed Theodore was responsible for my mother's death. No one could prove it. But he was not welcome. When my father didn't take his own life shortly after my mother died, Theodore left for America and mated with your mother.

“Theodore returned every so often to ensure his mother left the property to him and didn't give it to my father, I'm certain. Great animosity existed between the two men. And he hated me and my brothers. When my brothers and I were away at university, my father drowned on a blustery, cold winter's night, just like my mother had many years earlier. Again, no witnesses. It seemed too easy to dismiss as mere coincidence.” Grant finished off his meal.

“It wasn't the anniversary of your mother's death or anything?” Colleen guessed, fingering her buttered slice of bread.

“Nay. My father had been talking to me about my brothers and me coming home for the holidays. He was so proud of us. When my father died, I couldn't believe it. Neda called me home, and I took over management of the pack and the estates. And Theodore was still there. He was outraged, so certain that upon my father's death, he would manage the estates. Neda explained to him that my father had trained me and the pack was mine to lead once my father died.

“If Theodore could have gotten away with it, I'm certain he would have killed me for it. Even so, I had my doubts that he could have killed either of my parents—not on his own. He stormed out of the castle and returned to Maryland. He didn't come back until he inherited the castle.”

She took a deep breath, hating that her father could have been involved in anything of the sort. “I'm sure he hated that on top of everything, you were a young man.”

“Aye.”

But Grant hadn't believed he had acted alone. Who else then? “You said Archibald was like his father and grandfather. Uilleam Borthwick murdered yours to try and take over the management of the castle. How was Archibald's father like that?”

“Haldane Borthwick had been visiting Theodore both when my mother died and then years later when my father drowned. Purely by chance? I think not.”

She considered the ramifications, surprised Archibald had been associated with her father for so long. She had thought it was only more recent, upon her father's inheriting the castle. A more devious reason for the friendship might exist.

“I'm surprised my grandmother would have allowed Haldane Borthwick to visit if she had any notion he might be as dangerous as Uilleam had been.”

Grant finished his hot mug of tea and set it down on the tray. “Neda was away both times. I'm sure they planned it that way. The first time, she was visiting a dying aunt. She was grief-stricken to learn our mother had died and immediately took us under her wing. My father was heartbroken. From what older members of the pack told us later, they thought he'd forsake all food and join his mate. The only thing that brought him out of his anguish was the daily reminder that he had triplet sons who needed his guidance and love, and our pack members did everything to ensure he remained focused on the job until he could work through his grief.”

“I'm so sorry about your parents, Grant.”

“I thank you, lass. Your grandmother was like a mother to us. My father never took another mate. We dearly loved Neda.”

Colleen was certain that had she ever met her grandmother, she would have, too. “My father wasn't here when Neda died, was he?” Colleen asked, fearing the worst.

“Nay. Once I took over and worried that Theodore and Haldane had caused my father's death, whenever your father returned for a visit, I had guards posted to watch him day and night. Not that he ever knew it. But we were concerned for Neda's safety.”

To her way of thinking, Grant and his brothers would have been as much at risk. “What about you and your brothers' welfare?”

“We really weren't concerned about our own safety, but later we learned our pack members watched out for us. They were really proud of having been so sneaky that we didn't even know it.” He smiled.

She smiled back and thought how wonderful it was to have an extended family that watched the boys' backs. “I can imagine it wasn't easy trying to keep track of all three of you without one of you having a clue. So what of Haldane? Is he still alive?”

“Another wolf killed him years later. No one knew who killed him for certain, but we suspected one of my father's friends resented Haldane, believing he had murdered Robert and gotten away with it, and so sought revenge.”

She pondered that, wondering if that man was still in the pack. “Is the wolf who you suspected of killing him still alive?”

“Aye.”

She waited expectantly. When Grant looked at the fire, she suspected he didn't want to give away the identity of the man. “Who?” she asked softly.

“We believe it was Darby.” Grant's unfathomable gaze swung back to her, and she felt as though he was watching her reaction, ready to defend the man's honor.

“Your faithful valet,” she said, seeing the man in a new light—but only in a good way.

“Aye. I think he only applied for the position eons ago to be my bodyguard, just in case.”

She sighed. “I think he was afraid I was going to have him fired. He didn't like that I was in your chamber,” Colleen said, recalling her confrontation with him—mainly because she had only been wearing a towel, and she thought his brusqueness had been an effort to hide his embarrassment.

Grant chuckled. “Aye. I think that's the most worried I've seen him in a long time. He said he'd ask Ian if he'd take him into his pack, but truth is, Darby and Ian's ghostly cousin, Flynn, don't see eye to eye.”

“Flynn's a ghost.”

“Aye.”

She shook her head. She did not believe in ghosts. “What about Archibald? You said he is like his father and grandfather. How?”

“He wanted to manage the property just like they did. At first, we believed he was trying to work a deal with your father when he visited. Maybe help to get rid of Neda, which was one of the reasons we guarded her at all times. If she had died, Theodore would have owned the castle, and since he had no knowledge of how to run the estates, he might have installed Archibald as the manager.

“Not that he would have known how to take care of the estates. And my pack would have given him a difficult time of it. Maybe Archibald was blackmailing your father. Maybe he knew just what Theodore and his father had done with regard to my father's death. The two of them were drinking buddies. Not that Archibald drinks overly much, but he was always picking your father up and taking him to pubs.”

She nodded. “So they weren't just fishing buddies. When my father took over, why
didn't
he install Archibald?”

“Theodore was deep in his cups more often than not. Some of that was Archibald's fault because he took your father to the same pub where you were to plot.”

No wonder Grant had been upset to hear she had been there with Archibald. If only she'd known.

“A couple of my men followed them and listened in on their conversations. Archibald told Theodore what he'd do and Theodore agreed, all while drinking. But thankfully it was all talk and nothing more. Then he returned to Maryland. We thought that was the end of your father's interference here.”

She smiled a little ruefully. “Until
I
showed up. My father's daughter. A week after he returned home, my father drove himself off a bridge and drowned,” Colleen said. She sighed deeply, remembering the call from the police and wondering why it hadn't happened earlier the way he drank and drove.

“He'd been caught driving over the limit on several occasions, and his license had been revoked. He shouldn't have been driving, but that didn't make any difference to him.” She shook her head. “If he drowned your father, it seems fitting justice that he died that way, too. I was just glad he hadn't taken anyone else's life with him.”

“I'm sorry, Colleen. This has to be hard to learn all at once.”

Yeah, it was. Not because she had cared about her father, but because she cared about Grant's. “My father had never been a loving dad. The more I learn about him, the less I realize I knew him. I believe the only thing he really loved was his bottle.” She finished her tea and set the cup aside.

“I have to agree with you there,” Grant said stonily.

“Have you ever questioned Archibald about your parents' deaths?” Not that she thought the man would give up the secrets, but Grant might have noticed a change of scent or posture or mannerisms, something that would indicate Archibald knew something.

“Aye, I have. If he knows what truly happened, he won't tell me.”

Thinking out loud, she said, “So Archibald thinks to gain the properties through me, then.”

“I suspect he was keeping an eye on your father, and when he learned Theodore had died and you inherited, he was waiting for you to follow in your father's footsteps. Then he conveniently met you at the airport.”

She stiffened a little, her gaze holding his. He might as well know the truth. “I assumed he was you at first, and that he had come to pick me up and take me to the castle.” She smiled a little. That might teach Grant to allow his enemy to come for her instead. “But then I texted Julia and said I'd arrived, and she told me what you had planned for me. She sent a picture of you and Ian, so I'd know who to look for when I arrived at the castle.”

“Bloody hell, lass,” Grant said with regret. He reached for her hand and squeezed it with a much too tender touch, when she was trying to keep a more businesslike posture, especially because of the way she was dressed. “I'm sorry for not being the one to pick you up. To show you Scottish hospitality like I should have from the very beginning.” Then he frowned. “You couldn't have thought he was me.”

She chuckled. “Or one of your men. When I said such, his face fell, but I still assumed his meeting me there was just by chance. Does he have a pack?”