He shrugged. “That’s not anything you need to worry about. For now, I just want you to take it easy. I need to see to Guy, and then I’ll be back tonight with a takeaway. What do you fancy?”
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s not for you, it’s for me.” And he wasn’t lying. He needed to be with her. Make sure she definitely was all right.
Arro gave him a soft, loving look. “Thank you for keeping your cool for me. It means a lot. And for firing him.”
“I’d do anything for you, sweetheart.”
Her eyes brightened with fresh tears, and she slapped playfully at his arm. “Go, before you have me blubbering again.”
He nodded but didn’t make a move. Instead, he suggested, “Perhaps you might find time to ask Robyn for some self-defense tips.”
Arro raised an eyebrow.
Lachlan smirked. “I’ve seen her in action. She’s impressive.”
His sister considered him a moment. “You admire her, don’t you?”
Admired Robyn? She irritated him, excited him, pissed him off, and turned him on … but admiration? It never occurred to him before but yes, he did. He admired her bravery in coming to Scotland, he admired her independence and self-sufficiency. And he admired her physical and emotional strength. He admired a woman who laid beneath him and dared him with her eyes to find the scars on her chest anything but something she should be proud of.
And goddamn was he itching to know the story behind them.
“Yes, I do.” He reached over and squeezed his sister’s wrist. “She’s trained in mixed martial arts.”
Arro cocked her head, contemplating. “It would never have been my thing before now, but I have to admit, it would be nice to know I could handle myself without a paperweight.”
Ignoring the humor in her voice—Lachlan was not ready (and never would be) to laugh at the situation—he got up and kissed her forehead. “I’ll talk to Robyn.”
“No, let me. Once this,” she said, gesturing to her face, “looks better, I’ll catch up with her. I keep meaning to have dinner with her, anyway.” Arrochar stood to follow him to the front door. “Is something going on between you two?”
“Why would you ask that?” he asked blandly, glad his back was to her.
“Just the way you kept watching each other at the ceilidh.”
“She was watching me?” he threw over his shoulder and then almost rolled his eyes at his idiocy.
Arrochar’s lips twitched, but she did him the favor of not laughing. “Oh, it’s that way, is it?”
“It’s nothing serious.”
“Does Mac know?”
“Like I said, it’s nothing serious. We’re both on the same page.”
“You can have nothing serious with anyone. Why her? It’s not like you to put sex before your family, and Mac is family.”
Her admonishing tone chafed. “Arro, I love you, but I’m not discussing this with you. I’ll be back tonight. Lock the door behind me, and lock your bloody kitchen door. None of us should have our guard down right now. Especially not you. And if that bastard comes here after I boot him off the estate, you get straight on the phone to me.” Something occurred to him. “Does he have a key?”
“No. I would have changed the locks if he did.”
“Still …” Lachlan’s brow furrowed. “How would you feel about relocating to my place until I can get the locks changed? Just in case. If the arsehole can hit you, he can go behind your back to have a key copied.”
“You’re so paranoid.”
“For good reason.”
At his implacable stare, she threw up her hands. “Fine. But I’ll need to grab some things.”
* * *
After following his sister to his coastal home in the tiny settlement of Caelmore, just outside Ardnoch, happy she was secure inside, Lachlan didn’t just call a locksmith to change out Arro’s locks but arranged for a security company to update her standard house alarm.
He didn’t care if it was overboard.
Then as he was driving up to the castle, he called Jock to prepare some men to escort Guy off the estate. He didn’t explain why, and Jock didn’t ask questions.
The rage that he’d dialed down to simmering began to boil over, but his promise to his sister kept it under control as he stormed through the trade entrance and into the castle kitchen.
Guy was there with his sous chef Rafaella and four junior chefs.
“Everyone but Guy out of the kitchen. Now,” Lachlan barked.
The chefs startled, hesitating for a moment before Rafaella clipped at them to remove themselves. She followed, throwing a curious look at Lachlan over her shoulder as she left.
Lachlan turned to his sister’s ex-boyfriend and his soon-to-be ex-employee and knew the bastard knew that he knew.
Guy dropped the large kitchen knife in his hand and walked toward Lachlan with his hands raised defensively. “Whatever she said, let me explain.”
Lachlan raised a finger, pointing at him. “Stay the fuck there. Take one more step toward me, and this conversation will end less civilly than I promised Arro.”
The chef abruptly stopped. He swallowed hard. “Lachlan—”
“You’re fired. No ifs, buts, or maybes about it. I want you off this estate immediately.”
Guy had the audacity to look shocked. “Do I get a reference at least?”
A red mist crept into the corners of Lachlan’s vision. He seethed, holding it back. “You beat my sister. You’re lucky I’m not calling the police.”
The man didn’t seem to understand the peril he was in. “If you don’t give me a reference, my reputation is ruined. I left a five-star hotel for this job!”
Lachlan counted to five in his head. Then, “Not. My. Problem.”
“This is my career! And over what? Your whore of a sister!”
The word whore hit Lachlan with the impact of a punch to the face. He bowed his head, glared at his feet, tried to count again, got to three—
He lunged at Guy with a downward swing of his fist that knocked the piece of shit to the ground. Blood sprayed across the side of the stainless steel island from the force of
