He might see her as his enemy, despite the fact that she paid for his services and he had free room and board, but she didn’t believe he was ready to engage in combat with her.

She heard some more strange noises. She wasn’t sure what to do. Make him leave? Pretend she slept right though it? Maybe he had only come back to get something out of the bathroom.

She closed her eyes, listening. Another odd sound. A creaking noise. She listened for a long time, half expecting to hear Grant climb onto his bed and the box springs to squeak.

Nothing.

She barely breathed as her ears tuned in to sounds only her wolf half could hear. A strange rumble. She ground her teeth.

She had to know what he was doing. If he thought to make noises all night long to disturb her sleep just because she made him leave his chamber…well, he wouldn’t get away with it.

Dressed in a long T-shirt, she left the bed and crossed her room barefoot. She opened the door to his chamber, didn’t see any movement, and walked across the floor until she reached the bed, then listened.

No sound. No breathing. No heart beating. Another rumble. It came from the bathroom.

She peeked between the midnight-blue curtains and found the bed empty. She had no desire to see Grant naked again. Well, not that she didn’t admire his form or really want to see him like that again, but that wasn’t conducive to conducting her mission here.

She stalked across the tapestry rug to the bathroom where the solid oak door stood ajar.

“Grant?” she called out.

No response.

Goose bumps dotted her skin. He was either in the bathroom, caught, or attempting to pretend he wasn’t there… No, he would be too alpha for that.

She pushed the door open and peered in. No one. The bathroom was empty. No noises.

Maybe by the time she moved around his curtained bed, he’d slipped out through his chamber door, not wanting her to catch him here. Surely she would have heard him opening and closing his door into the hallway.

She sat on a bench by the bed and waited, thinking if Grant or anyone else was pulling shenanigans, maybe even unbeknownst to Grant, the perpetrator would return, and she’d catch him at it. As she suspected, no other noises occurred. She continued to sit there, so sleepy she was barely able to keep her eyes open.

She closed them for a moment. Or she thought she had until something rattled, waking her, and she discovered she’d fallen asleep, her head resting against the foot of Grant’s bed. The sound had come again from the bathroom.

She jumped to her feet and strode into the bathroom. No one was there, and fresh goose bumps trailed up her spine.

Then she took a deep, settling breath. The chamber next door probably shared the pipes with this bathroom and whoever was over there was making the strange racket.

She left Grant’s room and went next door and knocked. She glanced at her attire and realized she was wearing only an oversized T-shirt, and she shivered in the chilly hall. No one answered.

If they thought they could try scare tactics on her and pretend now that Grant’s room was haunted, she wasn’t buying it. She twisted the handle on the door, telling herself that whoever was inside the room couldn’t fault her too much because she was the owner of the keep. She slowly opened the door and was about to call out to the occupant when she saw not a stick of furniture in the place. Paint cans and a tarp and the smell of fresh paint told her this room was not being used. Though to be sure, she checked out the bathroom and then the room adjoining this one. That room was also empty of furniture, the walls caulked, but the painting hadn’t begun.

Unless someone had slipped in here and made the noise in the bathroom to disturb her sleep.

She knew the White Room was on a lower floor and fully intended to speak to Grant about this.

If someone in his pack was bothering her, the duty was his to take charge of the man—as he had stated emphatically to her already. Then she frowned. What if Grant wasn’t sleeping in the White Room? And someone else was?

She glanced at her state of undress. She needed to rectify that first. After returning to her room, she pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped on a pair of tennis shoes, then left the chamber for a word with Grant. She half suspected he wouldn’t be there.

She had to admit she’d overheard five of his men offer to give up their accommodations for his use, but not either of his brothers. She’d admired him for not taking any of the men up on it. Then again, maybe he had other accommodations, and he didn’t want her to know about it.

When she finally reached the room, she knocked softly. She didn’t pound on it to wake the dead, afraid to bother anyone else in the rooms down this hallway.

No one answered and she was certain Grant had gone someplace else to sleep.

She opened the door to the chamber and stared at the small child’s bed. Maybe five feet long? She was petite, but even she would have hung over the edge by nearly five inches.

Beautiful white-eyelet bed coverings and curtains made her think of a little girl’s room. Is that what Grant thought of her? As a little girl to be manipulated?

She stifled a growl and came around the corner of the curtained bed to find a very naked Grant trying to pull his pants on.

Unable to help herself, she smiled. The man was serious cover-model material in a ruggedly handsome Highland wolf sort of way.

“What the devil are you doing here, lass?” Grant growled. “Have you changed your mind about sleeping here?”

He had to be kidding.

“This is a little girl’s room,” she said, annoyed. She could see why his brothers didn’t want to switch rooms with him. “Why in the world would you think I would want to stay here?” Not that she believed he thought anything of the sort. He wanted to encourage her to leave.

“By your grandmother’s orders, this is your room,” Grant said.

Colleen couldn’t believe it. Her grandmother had wanted to see her all those years? She felt a lump in her throat, and her eyes grew misty.

“I’m sorry, lass. I thought you might have already known. She sent letters to you when she thought you were old enough to read. She had a private investigator take pictures of you while you were growing up, and she had them on display in her chamber.”

She couldn’t believe it. “Did she stay in the lady’s chamber, then?” Colleen somehow managed to get out.

“No. Once her mate died, your grandfather, she moved into the other wing in a corner apartment and wanted my grandfather to take over the laird’s chamber.”