"Looks great," Michael said. "And I think the biscuits would be a fine dessert tonight. I've got the lamb in the oven, so what if you and I make up the dough for Angus's cinnamon rolls? I found a bit of a variation in his cookbook. He makes some orange ones by adding little bits of candied orange rind and then adding a bit of orange flavor to his white icing. I bet they'd be lovely for breakfast in the morning. If we get the dough made up this afternoon, and maybe put a couple breakfast casseroles in the slow cookers, we wouldn't have anything to do for breakfast but stick the orange rolls in the oven and set out the coffee and tea and juice."
Angus had slipped into a light sleep when he heard a loud popping noise and then started to smell smoke. Andrew and the guards were already scrambling when Angus opened his eyes. They were looking for where the smoke was coming from.
"There!" one of the guards shouted. He had opened the front door and he was pointing to Edward's. "The place is on fire!"
"Go!" Angus shouted. "Get the fire out. I'm fine!" The guards scrambled and left him. And the moment they all ran outside, there was an apparating sound in the house. He looked up and saw Reginald Tyler standing in front of him. Angus smiled. Finally. "Well, well. I wondered how long it would take."
"They're idiots," Tyler sneered. "They need a lesson in distraction techniques."
"Do they, now?" Angus said, amused.
At the main house, Marcus had come down to get a cup of tea, and he glanced out and saw the fire and started to count guards.
"No, no, no, no, no," Marcus said quietly, upset, knowing Angus was surely alone now. "Ruby, stay! Let me handle it." he ordered her. He drew his wand and apparated over to the duplex, but choosing to apparate upstairs so that he could perhaps come up behind Tyler.
"If you have something to say, then say it and be quick about it," Angus told Tyler. "You're boring the shit out of me."
"You've pissed off the wrong people for far too long," Tyler said. "And that's a problem. But now, since you've made it personal, I'm going to take great joy in this one."
"So you think," Angus said.
"And just where do you think you are, anyway?" Tyler asked, looking around. "This isn't the American southwest. No pride left in you, is there?"
"Nope. None whatsoever," Angus said, taking advantage of Tyler's preoccupation with the decor to reach in his pocket and drew his pistol, sliding it now just under the bottom hem of his cashmere sweater. He could see Marcus's figure crouching now just below the banister at the top of the stairs. Tyler was sloppy, and Angus intended to use that to his advantage.