In truth, Grant had forbidden most everyone to be in the kitchen after hours. Only last year, he’d had to take a man to task for selling foodstuffs to humans at a profit, figuring the owner of the castle would never know and could afford it. The man had been banished from the castle, the pack, and the clan. When they discovered he’d been pilfering the food when the cooks and their assistants were gone for the day, Grant had made the rule that no one but his brothers, Darby, the kitchen staff, and himself, of course, could go to the kitchen without asking permission. And all accounts had to be strictly supervised.

Grant hated doing it, but he couldn’t afford to have a thief among them again, so he couldn’t ignore the situation tonight, giving the impression it was unimportant to him.

He stalked with Maynard to the kitchen and asked, “So who broke the rules?”

“That lass, my laird.”

“Wait,” Grant said, stopping Maynard with a hand on his shoulder. “The culprit breaking the rules is Lady Colleen Playfair?”

“Aye, and I knew you would be the only one to give her the order not to.”

Grant shook his head. “The lass owns the castle and pays for the food. If she wants to have a midnight snack anytime day or night, she’s welcome to it.”

“But you said…”

“Aye, but when it comes to the lass, we have to agree with whatever she wants until she is gone.” Grant would have to let everyone in the pack know that rule now. He thought it was understood.

They continued to walk to the kitchen when Maynard whispered, “I think she’s touched in the head.”

“What makes you think that?”

“She got one of the really good steaks out that you like, and she’s making mincemeat out of it on the cutting board.”

“What?” Grant had told himself she could do anything she liked. But to do that to a good steak?

“Aye. Dicing it up into itty-bitty bits. I tell you she’s a wee bit mad.”

When they reached the kitchen, Grant was surprised to see Colleen wearing only the long T-shirt, minus her jeans and no shoes on her feet. Not that he’d bothered with a shirt or shoes, either.

Just as Maynard had said, the lass was cutting the bloody steak into tiny pieces. What was she doing?

She gasped as she saw Grant and the cook enter the kitchen.

“Are you hungry, lass?” Grant asked, not imagining how she could eat the steak after the way she’d butchered it.

“No,” she said, waving her knife at him. “Did you tell your cook it’s all right for me to be in here?”

“Aye, that I did. But I wondered if I might help in any way.” Most of all, he wanted to know just what she intended to do with the meat. Make a stew? In the middle of the night?

“No. I’m fine. Thanks. Well…do you have a plastic bag I can put this in?” she asked, looking as tired as he felt, yet her expression was all cheerfulness, as if she did strange things like this in the middle of the night all the time.

He’d caught her father drinking at all hours of the night, but he’d never expected anything like this of his daughter. What in the world was she up to?

***

The next morning, Grant slept much later than he ever did. No one bothered him, thankfully. He was certain Maynard had told all the clan who were interested in hearing that the lass was touched in the head.

Grant had been dying to learn what Colleen was up to last night, but she hadn’t enlightened him, and he wasn’t about to ask. Maynard had looked at him as if it was his duty to learn what the lass had been doing. Now, he had to share the bathroom with four other men, or…since the women were not here for now, he’d use Neda’s bathroom to shower. He wanted to find out when Colleen was going out with Archibald. And where they intended to go. Though beyond that, he wasn’t sure what he could do.

Dressed, he headed for Neda’s chamber and was in the middle of a nice, hot shower when he heard movement in the room.

He closed his eyes and continued to soap his chest.

“Who is in there?” Colleen asked.

“Me,” Grant said, figuring that would suffice for an answer. She had to know his voice by now.

“Oh.”

“Were you looking for me?”

“No, I just wanted to see my grandmother’s bedchamber. I thought no one would be here.”

He continued to shower leisurely, sighing. He was tired from being up half the night. He wondered if she’d also slept in late. “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” she said, and he thought he heard tears in her voice.

He frowned. “Is something the matter?”

“No. I…I didn’t know my grandmother cared anything about me. My father…” She didn’t finish speaking.

“Your father told you she didn’t want to see you? That she was angry that he left and mated with an American, and any of his offspring would not be welcome here? She wanted you to stay in the White Room when you visited. No one was to ever use it but you. She asked for you on her deathbed.” He wanted Colleen to know how much she had meant to her grandmother.

Colleen didn’t say anything. Maybe she had left. He turned off the water and grabbed a towel. He hated to be the one to tell her the truth, but she had no one left to make it right.

“Your father lied to you.” He walked out of the bathroom, expecting her to be standing there. She was gone. He took a settling breath. He wished now he’d gone against Neda’s ruling and had fetched the lass home to see her before her grandmother died.

When Grant went to the great hall to see if the lass was there, he found his brothers instead. Enrick frowned at him. “You look a little worse for wear. Did you find out why the lass mutilated a steak in the middle of the night?”

“Where is she?” Grant asked, heading for the kitchen. He needed a mug of tea, and hell, the steak sounded good. In the first of the fridges, he found the package of diced-up steak. What in the world was she doing with it? “Where’s Maynard?”

“Here I am. Do you want breakfast now?” Maynard asked, coming out of a walk-in cupboard. He acted as though he didn’t know that Grant had been up half the night.

“Aye, if you wouldn’t mind.” But Grant didn’t say it in a way that meant his cook had any choice in the matter.

His brothers smiled at Grant.