“Good,” he said gruffly, trailing kisses down my neck.
“So you’re taking the day off?”
He raised his head and answered, “Well, let’s see. Deal with a myriad of queries from staff and members or spend the day making love to my w—” He cut off, looking surprised.
“What is it?”
“I … I almost called you my wife.”
I grinned, unable to contain the explosive feeling that moved through me. “Really?”
Lachlan’s blue eyes turned a lighter shade of azure as he studied my reaction. “It sounds right, doesn’t it? It never sounds right calling you my girlfriend. That sounds impermanent.” He scowled. “Wife is better.”
The caveman quality to the way he grunted it made me snort. “Is that a proposal?”
Lachlan’s eyebrows rose. “Is that a yes?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been proposed to.”
“I thought you’d think it was too soon.”
Deflating quickly and miserably, I shrugged, easing away from him. “Of course.”
Refusing to accept my retreat, Lachlan rolled on top of me, straddling me as he gently held my arms down above my head. I felt a renewed flush of heat between my legs. He stared at me, amazed. “You would marry me?”
“You haven’t asked,” I repeated.
His expression darkened with something beyond desire. “I would ask you in a heartbeat. I didn’t want to rush you into anything.”
The joy that blossomed before began to bloom again. We’d talked so much over the last few months about what we wanted in life, I had no doubt that our wants and needs aligned. Lachlan never thought about having kids, but now that he’d found me, he seemed eager to get started on that whenever I was ready. Being a decade older than I was, I knew he didn’t want to wait too long, so we wouldn’t. We’d travel a bit first, and then we’d start a family.
I could see it playing out in my mind.
And it was more gold than I ever imagined I’d mine from my life.
With Lucy’s trial hanging over us like a dark cloud, the thought of planning beyond that filled me with the kind of anticipation I didn’t realize both of us needed.
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” I promised him. “And you know when I make up my mind about something, I don’t fuck around.”
Lachlan smiled, a smile I’d never seen on him before.
It erased every shadow in the back of his eyes, every cynical line between his brows.
It took my breath away.
As did his next words. “A man should plan a proposal better than this, and I promise there will be a grander one with a ring and all the traditional stuff … but I can’t leave this bed without asking now. Without knowing I leave it with a promise. Robyn Galbraith Penhaligon, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
I bit my lip to stop the stupid girlish squeal from escaping and nodded frantically.
Lachlan laughed. “Was that a yes?”
“Yes!” I yelled and then escaped his hold and grappled him onto his back. I peppered his face and chest with kisses and said, “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” feeling him shake against me with laughter.
And I didn’t care about a ring or him planning a romantic dinner or whatever people were supposed to do when they proposed. All I cared about was this feeling. This laughter and joy between us that came from deep within our very souls.
Epilogue
LACHLAN
For a moment as Lachlan contemplated his companions, he smirked at the thought of what the tabloids would do to get their hands on a shot of his stage office right now. He would have used his real office, but it was too small. Instead he’d shut the door of this one, with one of the footmen, Gerard, standing guard outside in case a guest came knocking.
It was a rare occasion when he had all of his board members in one place.
Wesley, Luther, and the newly appointed board member Marci Robbins sat in casual relaxation in his suite of chesterfield chairs around his coffee table.
If it had been up to Lachlan, he would’ve spent the entire week in bed with Robyn after she agreed to marry him. But the day after, unfortunately, was this scheduled meeting with the board.
Not just to discuss the five spaces that had opened up on the membership list but to look over candidates he wanted to interview to help him manage the estate. Now that he and Robyn planned to marry, travel, then settle down, he needed to start training someone to take over whenever he wanted to be with his family.
Still reeling with contentment, Lachlan was afraid to say he’d missed half of what the board members had said in the last fifteen minutes. He hadn’t known a person could reel with contentment. It had always sounded like such a tepid adjective before now. But, in fact, Lachlan discovered contentment was far more powerful than mere happiness. Happiness could still be tinged with anxiety and insecurity because, in his experience, it often came hand in hand with fear—fear of losing it.
Being with someone like Robyn made it impossible to let fear of the future dictate his future.
“I think Murphy is a wild card.” Marci’s exquisite, upper-crust English accent cut through his reverie. “We would be better with Davina Dunhaven. Her reputation is stellar.”
“All of your candidates are women.” Wesley smirked at Marci, deliberately trying to ruffle her feathers. “Your feminism is showing, Robbins.”
“Oh, heaven forbid.” She widened her eyes in mock horror. Then she nudged Luther. “What do you think?”
“I agree about Murphy.” Luther nodded. “But I think Taron Mathers is a better option.”
“Because he’s Cockney like you?”
He flashed her a bright white grin. “No, love, because he’s Lachlan ten years ago.”
It was true. Taron Mathers was a young, up-and-coming action star, but he’d proven he had bigger acting chops than just his ability to throw a believable punch. “He’s better than me.” Lachlan leaned forward and moved Taron’s photo forward. “He has my vote. He’ll bring a
