Chapter 41 Robyn
ROBYN
The whir of the automatic blinds prodded through my consciousness, followed by a stream of light tickling my eyelids.
I groaned, peeling my eyes open and blinking against the sunlight streaming into the master bedroom.
One wall of the room was made entirely of glass bifold doors.
The fitted blinds were on a timer to rise at six o’clock.
Lachlan was happy to change it so I could sleep longer, but I liked getting up at the same time as him, not wasting the day.
I reached across, feeling the warm but empty spot next to me in bed. He was already up. I heard the fall of the shower in the bathroom and imagined Lachlan standing under it. From memory. We’d had plenty of shower sex these last three months.
Remembering Lachlan called last night to say he’d be home late and that I’d fallen asleep before he returned, I felt a tingle waking between my legs.
The club had been unbelievably busy over the last three months, and there were many late nights for Lachlan, but he promised things would wind down soon before the winter guests descended.
I could go join him in the shower, which would be better for him, but I couldn’t get my ass up off his mammoth, comfortable Low Tokyo bed.
Not his, I reminded myself.
Ours.
Anytime I called something his and not ours in the house, it pissed him off.
“If you don’t start referring to it as such,” he’d said one day, belligerent, “I will sell everything in here so you can pick out new furniture, if it means you claiming it as yours.”
I’d tried not to laugh because he was genuinely put out. “I claim you as mine—isn’t that enough?”
Lachlan liked that, but he still wanted me to feel like the gorgeous home looking out over the water, next to Thane’s, was mine too.
And it was slowly but surely coming to feel like it.
It would even more so with the special building Lachlan erected next to us for my business.
The structure itself was complete. Soon the interior would be, too, and for the first time, I’d have a dedicated space for my photography business.
That, and the fact the house was a mere five-minute drive from Mac’s cottage, made it as perfect as anything could be.
While Mom and Seth took me leaving hard (though they promised they were happy for me), I’d left with the assurance I’d return to Boston for the holidays.
I’d left with the utter certainty that Ardnoch was my home.
Lachlan was here.
Mac was here. Mac, who was over the moon to have me back so we could continue getting to know each other.
My new life was here.
I still wanted to travel, and in fact would need to if I wanted to grow my business.
Lachlan was talking about hiring a manager for the estate so he could travel with me.
For now, everything was on hold while we waited for Lucy’s trial to start.
In the three months since I’d moved back to Scotland, the process against Lucy had been slow.
But being a cop who’d once dated a lawyer, I already knew that it would be.
Lachlan and I had some things to distract us from the case, beyond our seemingly never-ending appetite for one another.
I’d gotten to meet Brodan, for one. Lachlan’s middle brother returned from filming to check on Lachlan.
As tall as his brother, he was less rugged.
Brodan was good-looking in more of a Scottish Captain America way and had a devil-may-care attitude that came more naturally to him than it did to his big brother.
He flirted with me and any woman in his vicinity, other than Eredine, whom he treated with a measured respect that made me like him even more.
But Brodan’s eyes held shadows that I knew Lachlan saw and worried about.
His brother insisted he was just exhausted, but instead of recuperating at home, he’d left as soon as he could.
It felt like he was escaping the people who knew him best.
Lachlan suspected it, too, and my overprotective guy brooded for days after Brodan’s departure.
Arran finally contacted Lachlan as well, but he didn’t make any promises to come home. He was in Thailand, working at a bar, doing his thing. He was fine. Maybe he’d be home at Christmas, he said.
I had a low opinion of Arran. Who didn’t come home when a family member was almost murdered?
Suffice it to say I felt the same way about Regan, but I couldn’t think about my sister.
It hurt too much.
Instead, I focused on my new life as much as I could, trying to push through the fact that Lucy’s fate was still unknown.
There would be no plea bargain for her because there was so much evidence regarding Fergus’s murder.
Her part in stalking Lachlan and in McHugh’s murder was harder to prove, but she was facing a lengthy prison sentence for killing Fergus, kidnapping Lachlan, and attempting to murder us both.
At present, Lucy’s defense team had brought in forensic mental health professionals to evaluate whether she was a candidate for the insanity defense.
I wasn’t a psychologist—and wouldn’t be so bold as to diagnose Lucy with a personality disorder—but it seemed likely considering her extreme behavior, narcissism, and fixation.
We didn’t know if the abuse she’d spoken of really happened or if it was all part of her manipulation to make us see her as the victim, but no accusation of abuse should be ignored, and I hoped the mental health professionals assigned to her case helped her as much as they helped the police look into it.
A part of me was incredibly sad for Lucy, despite the terror she’d put us through.
I didn’t know how the trial would play out. I just knew I wasn’t looking forward to it and couldn’t wait for it all to be over.
Maybe then Lachlan would find his trust again.
While he trusted me and made that clear by confiding every part of his life to me, he’d grown more aloof with club members.
In a weird way, I think many of that crowd kind of got off on it.
The mysterious owner of Ardnoch Estate. Moreover, after all his years as a playboy, he’d chosen to settle down with an “outsider.” That always garnered interest. We’d been hounded by the press for a while, but it thankfully died down.
I knew it would all flare again when the case went to trial.
It was strange seeing my face plastered across tabloids and the internet.
And at Lachlan’s wise advice, I avoided reading any commentary about our relationship.
I’d come to realize, however, I could put up with a lot of bullshit as long as I ended up right where I was. Hauling my ass out of bed, I sauntered into the bathroom, my body tightening delightfully at the sight of my boyfriend naked and glistening in the shower.
Lachlan gave me a heated look, his lips quirking at the corners.
I winked and then walked right past him to brush my teeth.
If I had time to brush my teeth before sex, I was absolutely doing that.
I could feel him watching me.
Looking into the mirror above the sink, I discovered I was right.
He’d stopped washing. Just stared at me like a starving man.
Hard to pass up that invitation.
Wiping my mouth on a hand towel, I replaced it with deliberate slowness. And then, eyes locked to his, I curled my fingers beneath the hem of my tank top and lazily drew it up off my body.
My naked breasts bounced with the movement, and Lachlan’s hot gaze dropped to stare at them.
Feeling smug at the yearning on his face, I removed my shorts and underwear with equal slowness.
“Get your arse in here,” he demanded, eyes on said ass.
“Ask nicely.” I turned to lean against the sink, letting him look his fill.
Lachlan narrowed his eyes. “My darling Robyn, will you please get that fantastic arse of yours into the shower so I can say good morning properly?”
Smiling, I pushed off the sink and sashayed over to the large shower that was open to the room, making it more of a wet room.
Before I’d closed the distance between us, Lachlan reached out, grabbed me by the waist, and hauled me into his arms. I was instantly wet from the rainfall head, his body, and well … him.
“I missed you last night.” I ran my hands up his chest as he sought to touch every inch of me.
“I know.” He breathed harshly against my lips. “As soon as we can, we’re traveling somewhere far, far away where no one will bother us and we can fuck like monkeys all day, every day.”
I laughed, the sound caught in his kiss. He pressed me against the wet tiles, and his strong hand wrapped around my left thigh, opening me to him. With those deft fingers of his, he stroked me to readiness, until I was on the cusp of shattering with the tension.
My cries of approaching orgasm echoed off the walls, stuttering when his hand fell away. “No, don’t stop.” My fingernails bit into his back.
Lachlan grunted and then he was there, pushing inside me.
“Oh yes!” My head fell back against the tile at the delicious fullness of him.
“Eyes open,” he murmured.
I did as asked and kept his gaze as I held on tighter while he moved inside me with a steady, controlled rhythm that was driving me crazy.
Feeling my nails dig into his muscle again, he picked up the pace, his hips driving with more power. I needed more. I hopped into his arms, wrapping mine around his neck, and he caught me. Our lips met, and I kissed him hungrily.
His groan of need was followed by the sensation of moving, the water from the shower no longer falling over us. I broke the kiss, realizing he was walking us out of there.
“Where are you going?” I asked breathlessly.
“Bed,” he grunted.
“We’re wet,” I protested.
“Then I’ll change the sheets.”
Before I could argue further, my back was on our bed and Lachlan was braced on his knees, hands on my hips, and he was pumping into me at an angle that blew my mind.
Sometimes, Lachlan’s self-control was frustrating because he was so good at hiding his emotions from people, but in bed … oh boy, was it amazing. I came twice before he followed me into bliss.
One of my favorite things in the world was the feel of him shuddering against me. I loved caressing his back, soothing him as he lost himself to me, the sound of his climax echoing in my ears. Just remembering the noises he made as he came turned me on, sometimes at the most inappropriate times.
Bemused at the sound of his chuckling as he fell to his side on the bed, I smiled uncertainly. “What?”
“I need to shower again.”
“Worth it though, right?”
His smile died, a solemnity falling over his features. Pulling me into his arms on the now-damp bed, Lachlan brushed his mouth over mine and whispered, “You’re worth everything.”
Romantic bastard. I grinned, pleased, snuggling into him. “Don’t go to work today. Let’s just stay in bed.”
“Okay.”
I lifted my head, surprised. “Really?”
“Do you want me to?”
“I don’t want to keep you from work.”
“Do you want me to stay with you?” he pushed.
In truth, yes. We hadn’t had a full day together in weeks. “I want you to stay with me.”
“I want to stay with you too. I will always want to be where you are over anywhere else in the world. All you have to do is ask.”
“You’re very romantic this morning,” I teased.
Lachlan smiled. “Have you read the news? I’m madly in love with an American photographer.”
I shimmied with giddiness, unable to hide it whenever he said it to me. The man had the ability to turn me to jelly. It wasn’t fair. “I did read that somewhere. I also read that she’s madly in love right back.”
“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.