They had to discuss the color of flowers and the kind of food to serve at the reception. Then they had to consider the particulars of the bachelorette party, which meant a ladies’ day and night all over again. Different theme, but Colleen thought that the pirate ladies’ theme had appeal. Calla had suggested they do something else, though, just for the bachelorette party.

Colleen was curious what the bachelor party would consist of. Maybe she and the ladies could crash it.

Enrick had contacted all the women of their pack to return home early for the wedding. And to his surprise and Grant’s, they had demanded that they get to extend their holiday by that many days. He had created a monster, and it served him right.

Enrick and Lachlan had escorted Calla to a birthday party she was hosting late that afternoon for a ten-year-old in another town, so they were serving as her bodyguards. They didn’t mind watching over her, but both had vehemently opposed dressing like clowns. Even so, they did it out of a sense of obligation.

Happy to not have to consider anything wedding-related for the whole afternoon, Colleen immersed herself in the finances of the pack and found discrepancies centuries earlier and again last year. Neither was related because the time that had elapsed between them was more than several hundred years.

But still, she was curious about the first—mostly because Grant’s grandfather had not been managing the estates as the MacQuarries had claimed. Archibald had been right, though prior to him mentioning it, she’d never heard of anyone else administering them. As she went through the old documents that had been scanned into the computer, she realized Uilleam Borthwick had been the administrator of the estates at their inception but continued for only a few weeks. Which was probably why future generations didn’t know about it.

John MacQuarrie had been the scribe. Then Uilleam was no longer manager, and John had been elevated to administer the estates. She let out her breath. She had to tell Grant that she’d found proof for Archibald’s allegations.

She imagined that when Robert and then Grant himself took over the estates, they would have been more concerned with the current and future state of affairs, not something that had occurred much earlier.

The more recent discrepancies had to do with the misappropriation of money for food and had steadily increased for four months until they abruptly stopped. So it wasn’t a case of a major feast the pack had, which she hadn’t any problem with. She pulled out her phone and called Grant, who said he was overseeing the patching up of the old chapel to use for the wedding.

“Aye, lass? Up to my armpits in mud, so anything you want to do about the wedding is fine with me.”

“We wish to have you serve as our male stripper for the hen night, or as we Americans would call it, the bachelorette party,” she teased.

Silence.

She smiled. Not often did she render him speechless. She sighed. “I was going over the accounts and found a couple of discrepancies.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“No rush,” she said, meaning it. She hadn’t realized he was quite so busy, and she certainly didn’t want to pull him away from the job. Unless he just wanted a break from working on the chapel.

“Nay, I’ll be there. Just let me wash up a bit.”

She sighed as he hung up on her. She hadn’t wanted him to think it was anything that was current and had to be taken care of right this minute. But she wondered if Uilleam had doctored the accounts, Neda had caught him at it, and he was fired. What if John MacQuarrie had been the one to let the cat out of the bag? Then he got Uilleam’s job and Uilleam sought revenge. Not just because he wanted to be manager, but because he had been the manager. And John had discovered the theft and told on him. And then he became the manager.

Not long after she and Grant ended the call, he arrived, no shirt, clean trousers, his skin freshly washed, his face a little flushed from rushing to get there.

She rose from the desk chair and gave him a hug. “Hmm, you smell like spices and the sea, and wolf, of course. You didn’t have to hurry. I just found something I thought you might want to know if you didn’t already.”

“The discrepancies in the foodstuffs. Aye. I took care of it. The man who had been working the books had been in league with the head cook. Maynard now holds the head cook’s position.”

She chewed on her bottom lip and considered Grant, not saying a word. Was this what Archibald meant when he said discrepancies existed in the accounts? Why hadn’t Grant told her?

“This is what you’ve been worried about? Maynard was concerned. Everyone has known about this but me?” she asked, annoyed.

Grant frowned. “The man was made to pay for the theft. The accounts were set right. As you can see, we had more money in the accounts for several months as the man paid the clan—well, you—back.”

“Yes, but why didn’t you tell me?”

“I took care of it.”

“Yes, but…I understand that part, Grant. But you should have told me.” She let out her breath. “Is there anything else?”

“Nay, I went through the accounts for a couple of years back, but saw nothing else that would indicate he or anyone else had been pilfering money.”

“Did you ever look at the historical figures?”

Grant considered her as if he wasn’t sure what was going on in her head.

“Okay, no, then. Did you know that Uilleam was Farraige’s first administrator?”

Grant’s jaw hardened. “Aye, Calla said she had heard it was so. She told me when she was getting the wedding books from her car. But we didn’t know if it was all a lie. You found evidence to corroborate the story?”