by Terry Spear
“So he wasn’t just the first manager of the estates. He was trying to woo Neda into mating him, and he would have been the owner, too.”
“Sounds like that from what you’ve discovered and from what Calla learned.”
“Which would be all the more reason for Uilleam to be so angered and kill John. Hopefully, she mentioned it in her journal,” Colleen said.
“You really aren’t angry about me not mentioning the discrepancies, are you?”
“Yes, I am. You should have told me when I first arrived. I should make you do a striptease for us at my bachelorette party.”
“You think I would mind?”
Colleen felt her body warm. “Actually, I would. I mean, I love looking at that hot body of yours, but I don’t want everyone else to get an eyeful.”
He laughed.
“I suppose no one else would have kept journals. Your father, perhaps, who might have said what he felt had happened to your mother.”
“Nay.”
“Archibald told me that you were stealing from me. I wonder how he knew.”
“I wasn’t stealing from you, lass,” Grant growled.
“I know. He made it sound like you were in charge so you had knowledge. Which you did, and you hadn’t let me in on the truth. So how would he know?”
Grant didn’t say anything until they arrived at Neda’s chambers and found ten taped boxes sitting squarely on the floor beside her bed. Grant got out his knife and cut through the tape. “I wouldn’t think the thief would tell Archibald or anyone else about what he’d done, for fear he’d never get a job again.”
“Unless he bragged about it.”
“Or Archibald…” Grant shook his head and began lifting journals out of the box.
“Or Archibald what?” Colleen began sorting the journals by decade.
“This is going to take forever,” he said, cutting through the tape on another box. “Or Archibald knew the man had done it.”
“As in he had been involved in the theft somehow? How long had the cook worked for you?”
Grant stopped what he was doing and stared at her. “Since your father took over.”
She let out an annoyed sound. “So Archibald and my father were behind cheating himself out of money?”
“Nay. Your father wasn’t sober enough to focus on the accounts. He had issues with several things but nothing that was a problem. But he had found this great cook and wanted to install him as the main cook.”
“Was he a great cook?”
“Aye. He was.”
“But one of Archibald’s men, maybe. So he may have thought all he had to do to discredit you was say that you were responsible for the theft, and Archibald’s man would have made sure you were somehow seen as the villain.”
“But your father left, then he died, and I discovered the theft and booted the cook out.”
“And failed to mention it to me.” She started organizing the second box of journals.
“You are still sore with me over it.”
“Yes, because Archibald tried to discredit you as one of the bad guys.” She sneezed. The books were full of dust. “This will take forever.”
“I took care of it,” he reiterated.
She glanced at him. “You thought I’d be like my father. High-handed. Unreasonable. Threaten to fire you?”
Grant paused. “Aye, lass. After dealing with Theodore, I didn’t know what to expect from you.”
“I’m nothing like my father.”
“Which is one of the reasons I mated you.”
She chuckled.
He cast her one of his hot, sexy, wolfish smiles.
He finished cutting open the rest of the boxes, and she started on the third one while he began separating the journals into piles. “Wait, I think these look like the very first. Calf skin leather. Very old. Earliest date.”
“Okay,” Colleen said, taking the precious journal in her hands and sitting on an embroidered rose-colored chair. “Why don’t you see if you can find anything around the time of your mother’s death? See if you can learn what Neda thought. Maybe the journal shortly after your father’s death also.”
The reading wasn’t easy. Colleen didn’t recognize some of the terms or the ancient way of spelling things or the old cursive handwriting. But then she came to the part about Uilleam and she said, “Ohmigod, Grant, he was courting her. She had lost her mate, who was Theodore’s father, my grandfather, Gideon Playfair, and then she had hired Uilleam as her manager when her other manager died. Her husband had hired the first manager.”
“So there was a manager even before Uilleam. How did the other manager die?”
“Accidental death. Fell off the cliffs while they were building the walls of the keep on the leeward side.” She glanced up at Grant, her skin crawling over the similarity to the other deaths.
“Convenient,” Grant said, still looking for the other journals.
“Yes, sounds like a tried-and-true method for getting rid of competition. Neda was really happy, talking about seeing Uilleam on walks and running with him as wolves in the woods, and then she didn’t write for several days. When she did, she said John MacQuarrie, scribe for the clan, had told her about discrepancies in the accounts.”
“Neda’s husband, Gideon, was supposed to have died on the battlefield. Was it true?” Grant asked.
“Clan battle, she says. Looks legit.”
“Aye, unless one of his clan stabbed him in the back and made it look like it was the enemy’s doing.”
“True,” she said.
“Here’s the one for the time period when my father died.” He handed it to her. “I’m still looking for the one when my mother died.”
Colleen read some from the first one he’d handed her, then said, “Nothing else in this one. Just a lot of praise for John and how glad Neda was that she had installed him as the new manager. Wait, okay, here is when he was murdered. She was horrified, swore it was Uilleam who had been behind the killings. She…yes, she’d had spies learn the truth. Then she sent men to hunt him down.”
“Good. Bastard.”
“Then she installed your father.” Colleen opened the journal that Grant had handed her. “Okay, she loved your father just as she had his mate, Eleanor. But when Robert died, Neda suspected foul play because it was too much like when Eleanor had died years earlier. She couldn’t learn who had done it.” Colleen skimmed through page after page after page. “Wait, here we go. She learned that Archibald’s father, Haldane Borthwick, had been visiting Theodore the day Robert died. She’d been away at her aunt’s sickbed and stayed for the funeral, then got word that Robert had fallen from the cliffs to his death. She was furious. Some had said he might have committed suicide. She didn’t believe it for a minute. You boys were away at college and she… Holy cow.”
“What?” Grant asked, setting down the journal he was holding and joining her. He rubbed her back as he looked over her shoulder.
“Neda learned Archibald’s father had killed Robert. She and Darby went to pay Haldane a visit. She killed him, she says. Haldane never expected her to do it, though Darby was there to aid her if she needed him to.”
Grant’s jaw dropped. “I can’t believe it. That’s why Darby would never say. We thought he’d gone missing for a day and done it and that Neda was away shopping. I never knew.” He let out his breath. “She was a remarkable woman.”
“I’m sorry,” Colleen said, taking Grant’s hand. “I wish I’d met her. Ever since I got here and learned so much about her, I’ve hated my father for ensuring I never saw her and hated myself for not seeing through the deception.”
“You couldn’t have known, lass,” Grant said, pulling her into his arms. “Come, let’s look at more of this later. I didn’t find the one for the time period when my mother died yet. But let’s take a break. Why do
n’t you tell me what you’re doing for your hen night.”
“Ha! That’s a secret,” she said, knowing he only mentioned it to keep her from feeling so sad about what had happened to his family and her own. “What about you and your bachelor party?”
“You think I would tell you about the stag party when you won’t tell us what you’re up to? Where are you having yours?”
She chuckled. “If I told you, you might crash it.”
The guys might think they would crash the girls’ party again, but she had every intention of the ladies storming the men’s affair.
Chapter 22
At dinner, Grant and Colleen noticed that Frederick, the lad who was taking care of the dogs, seemed upset about something. He kept avoiding looking at her—or at Grant.
Colleen suspected what the matter was, but wasn’t about to approach the boy. He needed to come to her and tell her what he’d done.
“He’s been avoiding you ever since we returned to Farraige Castle,” Grant said, seeing her look again in the boy’s direction.
“He has. I’ve gone out of my way to show there are no hard feelings, but I won’t come right out and put him on the spot.”
Grant turned his attention from Frederick to Colleen. “What has he done?”
She shook her head. “Nothing of consequence. But I believe he’s feeling guilty about it, and he needs to take the first step to make things right. I have no problem with the lad.” She wanted to say it was all Grant’s fault the boy had pulled the prank on her.
Grant chewed on his ham, then said, “I can talk to him.”
“No. He needs to do this on his own.” She furrowed her brow at Grant. “I’m serious. Don’t you go asking him what this is all about. It’s no big deal.”
She sighed. She shouldn’t have told him anything about it.
“As you wish,” Grant said.
But he sounded like it nearly killed him to comply in the matter. And she hoped he really would do as she wished instead of being his usual pack-leader self and attempting to deal with it.
***
Colleen returned to the study to make a budget for the upcoming year. Though Grant had every intention of letting the situation go with Frederick, he couldn’t. His job was to see to his pack members’ needs. And if one had a problem, he wanted to help.
Not only that, but if Frederick had done something with regard to Colleen that he needed to apologize for, Grant wanted it done sooner rather than later.
Grant headed to the wall walk and watched the sunset, the clouds purple, while swaths of red-orange colors blazed across the sky. He phoned Enrick. “Have Frederick meet me up on the wall walk at the northeastern tower.”
Enrick asked, “Is this about his moodiness?”
“Aye.” So Grant and Colleen weren’t the only ones to have witnessed the lad’s unusual behavior.
“Do you know what it’s about? I’ve asked, but he just shrugs me off like there’s nothing wrong. I’m worried that maybe he’s feeling bad about losing his mum again,” Enrick said.
“That’s what I’m about to find out,” Grant said.
“Okay, he’s at the kennel. I’ll fetch him.” Enrick ended the call.
Grant leaned against the wall and watched the sunset, thinking he needed to bring Colleen up here on a night like this.
Before long, he heard Frederick climbing the steps inside the tower, and when he opened the door, the teen looked like he was about to be beheaded.
“Come. Talk to me,” Grant said gruffly.
The lad complied, getting close enough to satisfy Grant. “I asked you earlier if something was bothering you. You said no. However, Colleen believes you need to speak to her about something. She said she isn’t upset with you over whatever it is.”
Frederick’s dark eyes rounded.
Grant frowned. Seeing the boy’s reaction, Grant knew he was guilty of something. “Aye, women tend to know things before we do even. So I suggest you speak with her and clear this matter up.” He hadn’t intended for the lad to tell him of his transgressions, just that he wanted to let Frederick know he was aware there was a problem and the lad needed to deal with it.
“My laird, I…I do wish to confess something,” Frederick said.
He studied Frederick who now fidgeted with a piece of hay. “What do you have to confess about?”
“The lady. I didn’t mean to make anyone mad, but you…were so nice to me when my mum died and put me in charge of the dogs.” He looked at the wall-walk floor.
“Aye. Frederick, say what you have to say.” Grant couldn’t help his stern expression or gruff voice. If the lad had truly done something onerous, he would have to pay for his actions in some manner befitting the crime. Colleen might not want him to, but just because Frederick was a lad of fifteen didn’t mean he could get away with some form of devilment and not have to pay the consequences.
Frederick looked up at him. “I’m so sorry, my laird. I really like the lady, and she’s been so kind to me. She’s showed me all kinds of tricks on how to get the dogs to mind. And it’s really working. But…”
Suddenly a thought came to Grant. “This isn’t about the dog getting into her room that second night she was here, is it?”
The lad’s eyes widened. Then he nodded. “Aye, it is.”
Grant laughed. “Then it’s no big deal and the lass isn’t upset with you.”
“I overheard you speaking to your brothers and saying she would be like her father and that she would not be good for the clan. You told me to release the hounds in the great hall at mealtime after you finished sparring with Ian and his men after she first arrived. So I thought when she made you leave your own chamber…” Frederick swallowed hard. “I thought you wanted her gone. Everyone said so. No one should have told you to leave your own chamber.”
“Nay, lad. The lady had every right. The castle is hers.”
Frederick looked again at the floor. “Well, I truly believed she was bad for the pack, like you said. Until she started teaching me how to handle the dogs. And then she saved Ollie. And well, everyone signed the petition to ask her to stay with the pack. And you acted like you wanted her for a mate. Then she became your mate. And I knew everyone would be angry with me for what I did. You and her included.”
Grant was fighting a smile. “I understand your reasoning, but you should have spoken to me before about this. And you should have apologized to her long before this.”
“Aye.”
“As your pack leader, I make the decisions, and then if they’re wrong, I’m to blame and no one else.”
“You mean everything you did to try and make her leave was your fault?” Frederick asked.
Grant smiled. That was one way to put it.
“She’s going to hate me,” Frederick said sulkily.
“It’s up to you to make it right with her,” Grant said.
“You mean I have to tell her. Myself.”
“Aye. She’s in the study working on new charts. Why don’t you go in and make your peace with her?”
Frederick swallowed hard. “I will.”
Grant felt a little bad that the boy had taken his lead in doing what he had done, though he doubted Colleen would be upset with the lad. Still, Frederick had to make amends for his own past deeds when he was in the wrong. It was all part of growing up.
Not that Grant was going to let him do this all on his own.
***
In the study, Colleen had just finished creating one of the budgets when she heard a light knock on the door. She thought everyone in the whole pack knew by now that when she was working, she didn’t mind anyone coming in. They didn’t have to obtain permission to see her.
“Come in,” she said.
The door opened slowly and Frederick stood there, head bowed a bit like a beta wolf, looking like she planne
d to execute him on the spot. She smiled brightly at him, trying to diffuse the tension in the air. She wondered if the only reason he came to see her was because Grant had talked to him. She would talk with her mate afterward about that. She really hadn’t wanted him interfering.
“Come in, Frederick. To what do I owe the pleasure—”
“I came to apologize,” he said, eyes downcast, not moving from the doorway.
“Come in and shut the door, why don’t you?” she said in a motherly way. “Have a seat,” she said and sat across from him near the windows in the little reading alcove.
“I let Hercules into your chamber. I didn’t make him get into your bed. I just…well, the door to his lairdship’s chamber was already ajar. And I peered in and saw your door to his room was open. I just thought Hercules would startle you, but I didn’t think he’d get into your bed.”
“I see. Why did you do it?” That was all that mattered to Colleen.
Frederick didn’t say anything.
“The notion was yours alone?”
“Aye, well, I got the idea from his lairdship when he asked me to let the dogs loose in the great hall for the meal.”
She smiled at the memory. Someday she would tell her own children about their father and how hard he had tried to chase her off.
She couldn’t help being amused that the boy most likely thought taking the initiative to leave Hercules in her room would have pleased Grant. Admiring Frederick for wanting to please his pack leader, she couldn’t fault him.
“So I believed he would be delighted with me if I let the dog in your room. I thought it was really quite brilliant of me,” Frederick continued.
“I totally understand. But now you’re sorry.”
“Aye. You’ve been so nice to me and taught me how to train the dogs and…” He swallowed hard. “You’re Laird MacQuarrie’s mate now and our pack leader, too, and well, I just had to tell you the truth. Even if you hate me for it.”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “Let me tell you a little secret. I already suspected as much.”
“You did? And you didn’t say anything to me about it?” He sounded and looked awed as he raised his brows and his eyes grew big.