“I don’t want to drink any of it unless maybe it’s made into a whisky sour. Certainly not for a few weeks, if that,” she said, not intending to drink anything that contained alcohol for a very long time.

Grant looked at her like she had to be crazy to even think of ruining good whisky in such a manner.

“I just wondered why you weren’t drinking any. I thought braw Highland warriors drank it at every meal.”

“Not this afternoon.” He didn’t say anything more and cut into his fish. Then he paused. “Do…you recollect that the cold waters of the North Sea nearly swept you away in the middle of the night?”

She stared at his serious expression for a moment, trying to recall such a thing. Now that he brought it up, she vaguely remembered being drawn to the sea. Though she’d dismissed the notion of scrambling over wet, mossy rocks as just part of a vivid dream due to her inebriated state. And yet, she’d smelled the seawater on herself.

“As a wolf,” he further explained.

Her body flushed with mortification. Who all had seen her like that? Exactly what had she done? Was that why she smelled of fishy water this morning before she took her shower?

“I needed to stretch my legs,” she offered, thinking maybe that’s why she would do such a dumb thing, or maybe it sounded like a good explanation. She was highly thankful his people were wolves. What would have happened if they hadn’t been? They would have shot her, that’s what.

“Aye, well, in the future, I would ask that your wolf venturing be confined to this side of the seawall. The trails leading to the sea are too dangerous for anyone to navigate, especially if the person has imbibed too much.”

She wanted to ask whose fault that was, even though she knew very well her own stubbornness had made her careless.

“I will take your concern under advisement,” she said, finishing off her bread. “I hope I didn’t inconvenience anyone too much.” She truly hoped only Grant had known of her escapade.

“I howled to warn you not to get too close to the water’s edge until I reached you. But you ignored me.”

Vaguely, she remembered him nudging her. Like in a dream. An annoying wolf who wanted her to move when she’d been too tired to. “You howled.” Great.

She could guess what that meant. He was the pack leader, calling out to her in a distressed wolf’s way, warning her to return. His kin would have hurried out to see to the matter, just like any wolf pack would.

Even if they didn’t believe he needed help, they would have arrived to see what was going on—as was a wolf’s ever-curious nature.

She wanted to ask how many had seen her in her drunken state, risking her neck above the breakers. But she didn’t dare pose the question. She never got drunk. Ever. Which had been part of the problem with her inability to handle the liquor last night. She didn’t approve of such behavior. Her own father drank way too much and had behaved badly on many occasions, embarrassing her and her mother more than once. She didn’t want anyone to see her acting in such a manner.

“Thank you for seeing me back to my chamber.”

Grant said, “It was the least I could do for you.” He didn’t comment on her saying the chamber was hers.

“Why did you leave the bed this morning?” Or last night. She wasn’t certain when he’d run off. “I needed to be close to the bathroom. You could have slept in my room. I promise I wouldn’t have made any untoward advances,” she said. Not like she did on the hilltop. Then she frowned. Maybe she had made untoward advances to him in bed and that was why he had left. She felt her body warm.

His mouth kicked up at one corner as if he was trying hard not to show how funny that notion was to him. What? He’d think she would have ravished him? Unable to keep her composure when she was so close to the hot Highlander? But she really couldn’t remember what she’d done to make him leave.

She stiffened a little at his response. She wasn’t that needy. Just because she might have seemed like it when she kissed him.

She’d been mated twice. She often had wolves interested in her. Just because she wasn’t mated now and Grant and his people didn’t want her here didn’t mean other wolves wouldn’t find her appealing.

She’d also considered the possibility that he might attempt to pursue her, mate her, and gain control of her properties that way. Then he’d never have to submit to her wishes. And he and his clan would never have to worry about losing their ancestral home.

But he didn’t seem to be interested even in that. He just wanted her gone. Unless he’d kissed her as a way of changing the dynamics between them. Sure, kiss the she-wolf, make her melt under his touch, and she’d be as malleable as any beta wolf under his jurisdiction.

She didn’t know why she was thinking along those lines. Maybe the feeling of being in her ancestral home, where she felt she belonged in an odd sort of way. Maybe her dad didn’t, but being here felt right to her. Despite the way Grant didn’t care for her presence.

No matter what, she wasn’t giving in to the madness and showing him anything other than her professional side—this was business, after all. She didn’t want to think of herself as his superior, but she had to remember that’s just what she was. The boss did not kiss her employee, and she had to remember that.

And then her traitorous mind thought back to him vacating the bed in the middle of the night to leave her alone. How he’d grabbed his kilt from the bench and stalked out of the room. And that made her recall what she’d seen once again. He’d been naked. Only this time in bed with her. And she, likewise.