“For what purpose?” Grant asked, then finished off his whisky.

Enrick poured himself and Lachlan some. “To ensure the lass’s sleep isn’t bothered.”

“There should be no need for that.” Grant poured himself another drink. “Once we were made aware that the dog had not been locked up as he should have been, we knew someone had to have led him to her room. The word should have spread to let everyone know the lass is staying and no one should give her any trouble.”

“I’m surprised the lass didn’t shriek in distress when Hercules jumped in bed with her,” Enrick said. “Lachlan said she had left the chamber door ajar.”

“It doesn’t matter what the circumstances were,” Grant said, not about to mention that she had come to see him in the White Room, and that must have been when the dog was let into her room, “as long as no one does anything else to attempt to unsettle the lass.”

The brothers smiled.

Enrick said, “So you truly have had a change of heart concerning her.”

“She may not be as much like her father as we first worried. But time will tell,” Grant said.

“How was your sleep last night?” Enrick asked.

Grant gave him a look to not go there. “Are the men nearly finished with painting the rooms next to mine?”

“The one, aye,” Lachlan said. “The other should be finished tomorrow. Paint fumes will linger a bit longer.”

“Tell them I want a rush on it.”

“You’re moving in there?” Enrick asked.

“Why not see if the lass would agree to move into the newly painted chambers?” Lachlan asked.

“Just the thought I had.” Grant felt as though he’d been dethroned once he lost the right to sleep in his own chamber.

Worse, he hated how anxious he felt about her checking over the books tomorrow.

As to the kiss? He had wanted to apologize to her for kissing her on the hilltop. But when she had kissed him on the cheek in such a benign way? Bloody hell. He couldn’t let her think that that was acceptable, either.

What had he been thinking? How much he wanted to kiss her again and see if it was just as hot as the first time. And it was, which led him to want a longer kiss, and a hell of a lot more. Putting on the brakes had been harder than he ever had imagined it could be.

And that was the first sign he was truly losing the battle against the lass—in all manner of ways.

Chapter 13

Early the next morning, Colleen was eager to peruse the estate’s finances, and she seemed to be trying to keep their relationship more businesslike. She was trying to keep from looking at Grant—like a woman who was afraid to show any interest in a man. Not lowering her eyes in a come-hither way, but more indicating that she couldn’t deal with this right now. She was cheery, both during breakfast and after as she’d followed him to the office, so she hadn’t seemed upset about the kissing, but she was attempting to avoid the issue.

And he should have, too. So why did he keep trying to catch her eye, wanting something more? A word that something else was going on between them? That this wasn’t some imagined and passing fancy?

Trying to get his mind on the subject at hand, Grant looked down at Colleen seated at the desk, appearing totally enraptured with the graphs. He knew her ancestors were brilliant mathematicians, but that didn’t mean the gene would always be carried down from generation to generation. Her father had taken issue with a number of expenses—just to give Grant a hard time—but in the end he couldn’t find fault with the way Grant had managed the properties.

Since that time, they’d had the theft in the kitchen.

So when he pulled up the information on his computer, he was surprised to see Colleen set up statistical graphs—one of her ancestors had invented them, sure, but—

She very studiously created them for a vast number of fiscal years, for everything from food supplies to maintenance on the buildings. He watched her, fascinated at how quickly she set them up, as if she did this on a regular basis.

“Like graphs, eh?” he asked, stating the obvious.

She smiled. “My favorite kind of math. Pictorial, great for seeing trends, much easier on the eyes than looking at tons of numbers.”

“Hmm,” he said. He had to admit she was right.

She continued to work on it while he watched, half trying to sense what she felt as she looked over the charts, while hoping the accounts would meet her expectations.

She finally looked back at him as he watched over her shoulder. “You don’t have to stay here. It’ll probably take me a couple of days to make up all the charts and go over them. Maybe longer.”

“Aye, then, lass. If you need anything else, just call me.”

“I will. Thanks, Grant.”

He hesitated to leave. He realized just how unlike her father she was. Not bombastic, take charge—even if she did kick him out of his bedchamber—not cold and calculating. He wondered how she’d act when she found the discrepancies in the foodstuffs, though. His stomach clenched a little at the notion.

He left then, knowing he had a busy day ahead of him, seeing to his people’s needs, ensuring everything ran smoothly, and yet, all he could think of was what Colleen might say about the finances.

Later that afternoon, everyone gathered for the meal, except Colleen. Maybe the time had slipped away from her.

Grant said to Darby, “Will you fetch the lass? Let her know the meal is served.”