Chapter 23 Lachlan
LACHLAN
Guy was discussing the estate menu. The head chef had come to my office to go over his ideas, and I’d heard the words seasonal, lobsters, cockles, sea bass, kale, asparagus, and leeks … but they had no meaning.
Because I wasn’t bloody paying attention.
In fact, I had found it difficult to focus since yesterday afternoon.
Despite my wish to stay in bed all day with Robyn, Wakefield called up to my room with a problem, and I’d known it was time to get to back to work.
I shouldn’t have been screwing around during the day, anyway.
I wasn’t just the owner but the estate manager.
While I had department managers and supervisors, I was still a required presence until I decided to appoint someone in my stead.
Yet, I knew if my butler hadn’t called my room, I would’ve attempted to keep Robyn with me all day and through the night.
Unfortunately, she’d seemed almost relieved to escape me.
Not something I was used to.
After I’d convinced her to share a shower (the memories of which would keep me warm during cold, cold nights), Robyn had gone to Mac and barely given me a second glance as she’d left.
Of course, she wasn’t the first woman to be unconcerned with a casual arrangement. Most of the women I entered into short-term affairs with were on the same page, Lucy among them. She came and went as she pleased and placed no pressure on either of us.
It hadn’t bothered me a bit.
I was always relieved when a woman left my bed with no fuss or clinginess. Even if that did make me a bit of a selfish bastard.
But no one had ever wanted to run away from me afterward. Until Robyn.
It bothered me.
Why was she glad to be rid of me? I knew she loved the sex. There was no denying that the two of us were a combustible pairing. Fuck, but the woman turned me on. And vice versa.
Maybe that was it.
The sex was addictive, and it bothered me she didn’t seem to want to stick around for more when I found it hard (literally) to let her go. And I’d been contemplating when we could find time to do it again since the moment she’d left. I’d barely considered anything else. Not Mac, not the estate.
Jesus. The last time I’d been this consumed by sex, I was a teenager.
“So rhubarb is good, yeah?” Guy asked.
The word pulled my head out of my arse. “No. What? No … I mean, what?”
My chef raised an eyebrow. “Rhubarb. It’s seasonal. Excellent at the moment. I was going to incorporate it into the new menu.”
“No.” I abhorred the stuff. “No rhubarb. Ever.”
“Okay.” Guy crossed the word off his notepad. “Then I’ll need to rethink part of the menu.”
“Everything else sounds good.”
“Great.” Guy stood but seemed to hesitate.
“Anything else?”
The man appeared uncomfortable, and I understood why when Guy said, “I hate to ask, but … well, Arro isn’t answering my calls. Can you call her and get her to call me back?”
My immediate thought was, why isn’t she answering your calls? Those protective instincts raised my defenses. “What happened?”
The chef startled at my almost bark. “Oh, nothing. It was just a stupid fight after the ceilidh. I was drunk and said something I didn’t mean. You know how that is. I want to apologize.”
Despite the chef’s sincerity, my concern was for my sister. Arrochar wasn’t a huffy woman. She didn’t know how to hold a grudge. Unlike her brothers. In fact, Arro had always been the voice of reason in our family, the practical but softening feminine influence we’d be lost without.
“I’ll call my sister, but not for you.” I stood, keeping my tone neutral. “I have no problem with you dating Arrochar, but while you are in chef whites under this roof, you are my employee. I’d prefer you maintain that distinction at all times.”
Guy couldn’t hide his frown, but he gave me a jerk of his chin and muttered a “yes, sir” that sounded anything but deferential.
I let it go and waited for the chef to leave my office before calling my sister.
When she didn’t answer on my third try an hour later, my concern became an anxious tug in my gut. Arrochar rarely didn’t answer her phone, and she always called back.
As a forest engineer for Forestry and Land Scotland, Arro’s current task kept her close to home at Blairnie Forest. They were timber harvesting, and it was Arrochar’s job to plan every aspect of the process.
While she worked mostly in an office, I knew she was currently in the field to implement solutions to some logistical problems they’d had with equipment and loading.
Her worksite was only a thirty-minute drive from the castle.
I checked my watch, noted my sister would most likely still be on-site, and decided to find her for myself.
It was a good distraction from a certain American consuming my thoughts.
Or the fact that I hadn’t seen Mac since I’d slept with my best friend’s daughter.
That sounds very wrong.
“Damn the man for having a kid at sixteen and making it weird for everybody,” I muttered dryly as I left my office.
Stopping in at security, I informed Jock where I’d be.
“All right, sir,” Jock replied. “A quick update, though. Our geofence disabled a drone. McHugh has gone out to collect it.”
The news was irritating and concerning. “The paparazzi already? They usually hold off until summer.”
“Could just be a local who got too close to our perimeter.”
“Or our little problem is trying to find a new way to scope out the estate.” I referred to my stalker and the fact that the estate’s security system was no longer vulnerable to the hacker.
“I wouldn’t assume so, sir. It’s an isolated incident. We’ll check the drone for prints and keep you posted.”
Grateful for the efficient team Mac had put together, I thanked Jock and moved to leave when the guard said my name again. I glanced over my shoulder. Jock looked a little uncomfortable.
“Mr. Galbraith was here earlier this morning. When our system detected the drone.”
“And?”
“He inferred that he would be returning to work this week.” Jock winced, clearly hating the position he’d been put in.
I tried not to show my agitation at my friend’s restless impatience. “I’ll have a word with him upon my return.”
The security deputy seemed relieved.
Not looking forward to a discussion about postponing Mac’s return to work, I threw the thought out of my head for now and jumped into the Range Rover Fergus had brought around from the mews.
The thirty-minute drive to Blairnie Forest passed in a blur as I veered between concern for my sister and wondering if I should visit Robyn or give her time to adjust to our affair.
I liked to think of myself as a fairly patient man, but she brought out this fervent covetousness. With her, I was greedy to the point of craving.
Definitely a bloody addiction.
Turning off at the site Arro told me she was working from, I noted the parked cars of the site crew and the fact that Arro’s Defender wasn’t there.
Seeing her colleague Marcello, a project manager, I got out of my vehicle.
The Italian spotted me and moved away from the two colleagues in construction hats to meet me halfway.
“Lachlan.” Marcello held out his hand in greeting. “Good to see you.”
The Italian wasn’t just a coworker of Arro’s; he was a friend and had been invited to a few family dinners with his fiancée in the past. They had a young daughter who regularly played with my niece, Eilidh.
“You too. I hope you’re well.”
“Fine, fine. Is all okay with Arro?”
I stiffened at the question. “That’s what I came to find out.” I gestured to the site.
“Oh.” Marcello frowned. “She called in sick two days running. Said she had food poisoning.”
Scowling at this news, I replied, “I better check on her.”
Marcello’s brows drew together. “Tell her I’m asking for her. It’s not like her. I’ve seen Arro try to work through flu.”
It was true. My sister was always on the go, driven by a need to be useful, and she despised being ill to the point where she would deny it until her family stepped in to force her to take care of herself.
Bidding the manager goodbye, I jumped into my SUV and tried not to race to her house.
Something was wrong. I felt it in my gut.
Arro’s home was a midcentury bungalow on the northern outskirts of Ardnoch.
I’d offered her Adair land to build a home on, just as I’d offered my brothers, but Arro and our youngest brothers were holding out on their dream homes until they were ready to settle down.
I’d teased Arro about the house she’d bought with her inheritance.
In a quiet, nice neighborhood, the bungalow wasn’t exactly fashionable.
However, it was spacious enough for her library of books and the collection of inherited family objects I’d granted her permission to remove from the castle.
Plus, she was surrounded by good neighbors.
That’s all my sister cared about. To be surrounded by family and friends. And books. Lots of them.
Seeing her car in her drive, I relaxed marginally, but it didn’t show in my charging strides as I hurried to the front door and pressed the doorbell.
My calm did not come when minutes later she still hadn’t answered the door.
I tried the bell again.
Stepping back from it, I stared into the front windows, searching for movement.
Nothing. Following the paving stones around the house, I made my way into the decent-size back garden that Arro had spruced up with decking and a seating area off the kitchen.
Designated veg, fruit, and potato patches had been planted in the back near the greenhouse.
After knocking on the kitchen door, I peered into the patio windows and was dismayed to find no sign of her. Then I noted the open laptop on the kitchen table next to a half-eaten sandwich and a cup of coffee.
She was in there.
Well enough to eat and work.
But not answer the door?