“Borthwick is here, is he?” Grant started to leave the study in a gruff manner, acting as though he intended to throw the man out.

Intent on stopping him, Colleen quickly seized his arm. His hot, hard, bare, muscular arm.

Their gazes instantly collided. The astonished look he gave her amused her. She was certain no one grabbed him and stayed him like that. She was used to stopping her cousins in such a manner if she felt the need. She hadn’t thought anything of it. Just a natural reaction on her part.

Grant wasn’t anything like her cousins. He wasn’t a beta. He was a warrior from a long line of warriors. And he looked at her like he wasn’t sure what to do with her. Thrash her or…well, thrash her.

“I’ll speak with him,” she said to Darby as if Grant had no business making such a decision. Which he didn’t.

Darby looked from her to Grant’s arm, and she quickly released Grant, the contact making her think of manhandling him for other reasons. Like wrestling him to the ground in play, except she was not thinking in terms of playing—really. Why her thoughts turned so wicked when she was with him, or…not with him, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because he wore that sexy kilt again. Bare legs and feet this time and, of course, the bare chest, though his skin was now clean of oil. That made her think of how much she’d love to oil him down again—until he spoke and got her mind back on track where it needed to be.

“He is not one to trifle with,” Grant said, barely suppressing a growl and not believing the lass was interested in meeting with the man.

When Colleen had seized his arm to stop him from confronting Borthwick and tossing him off the premises, Grant immediately saw a flicker of a smile on Darby’s lips. The man was the most serious of wolves. He rarely smiled, though he was a happy sort. He just didn’t wear his expressions for all to see. So when the lass grabbed Grant, he was surprised to see Darby’s reaction. But no more so than Grant himself was shocked at the lass’s action.

He should have been angry with her, but instead, her touch made him think of more carnal pursuits. He’d never had a woman treat him in such a manner. He instantly had the notion of throwing her over his shoulder and marching up the stairs to his bedchamber, where he would have no interruptions while they continued to iron out the details of her stay. Thinking of tossing her on his bed brought to mind how he’d been with her in that same bed earlier.

Which is why he’d left the bed so quickly. No sane, naked man could sleep with an appealing, nude she-wolf and not want to do much more than just sleep.

“Your family and mine have always been at odds with those of the Borthwick wolf pack,” Grant informed her. Didn’t she know anything about her family’s history?

“Well, maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet,” she said, sounding like that would be an easy task.

“Over my dead body,” Grant said.

She frowned at Grant, as if she hadn’t expected him to be so vehemently opposed. “I’ll see him.”

And with that, Colleen brushed her breasts—her heavenly, very appealing breasts covered in the softest sweater—against his naked chest as she squeezed by him and Darby. She left the study as Darby gave Grant a raised-brow look, as if inquiring what Grant intended to do about the out-of-control American she-wolf.

Damned if Grant knew. He hadn’t won one battle with her yet. He and Darby quickly left the study to catch up to the lass.

In the front entryway to the castle stood both Enrick and Lachlan, arms folded across their chests, not allowing Archibald Borthwick to go any farther. Normally, they would have taken a visitor to the sitting room to wait for an audience with Grant.

As much as they all hated the man, they wouldn’t let him go anywhere until Grant said so. Unfortunately, the lass was the one who would have the final say this time.

Wearing black dress pants and a pin-striped shirt, Archibald appeared to be on a date. Not to mention that his blond hair looked recently cut, and—Grant rubbed his own whiskery chin—he’d had a fresh shave. To Grant’s consternation, Archibald’s gray eyes focused first on Colleen, as if she was leading the pack. Archibald was careful not to look her over like a hungry wolf, or he would have gotten a fist in the jaw—Grant’s fist.

The woman might be giving Grant a bountiful amount of grief, but she was his landlord and he would protect her at all costs from the avaricious advances of a wolf who was only interested in the properties she held. Even if she didn’t think she needed his protection.

Archibald’s gaze shifted to take in Grant’s appearance, including the fact he wore nothing but his kilt, his face was unshaven, and his hair was a bit unkempt. Even his brothers smiled at Grant’s current disheveled look. They, on the other hand, were both dressed in jeans and sweaters, freshly shaved, and much more presentable. Damn it to hell.

“May we speak in the gardens?” Archibald asked, smirking at Grant but then holding Colleen’s gaze, his smile brightening. “Alone?”

Grant could not believe this. What was Borthwick up to? Not that he didn’t have a good idea. How did he know about her coming here so soon? The lass could not fall under the Highlander’s seductive charms.

“Of course. If someone would point the way,” she said.

“Darby will take you there.” Grant nearly choked on the words and then gave his faithful valet a nod.

When the pompous Borthwick left with Colleen, Enrick said, “She is not what I expected.”