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 youthful credibility to the club.”
They’d just agreed on their first new member when a knock sounded on his office door. “Come in.”
He straightened when Mac strode in, expression unusually tense. He didn’t acknowledge Lachlan’s guests, which wasn’t like him. “Sir, may we speak in private?”
Lachlan always chafed when Mac called him sir, but now it felt worse since they were actually going to be family. Last night, Robyn called her father while Lachlan called his siblings to tell them they were engaged. Mac was happy for them, stopping by the house this morning to congratulate them. And while they joked about Mac becoming his father-in-law, it was actually bloody weird.
Though not weird enough to stop Lachlan from marrying his daughter.
At Mac’s strange tension, Lachlan excused himself and strode out of the room with Mac to find a private corner in the main reception. “What’s going on?”
Mac heaved an exhale. “I’ve just called Robyn up from Eredine’s studio.”
She’d gone there to join Eredine’s class that morning. Ery had grown distant with everyone since Lucy’s betrayal and refused to talk about it. Lachlan was frustrated and beyond concerned at this point, but Robyn insisted on patiently worming her way into Eredine’s trust. Arrochar, being closest to Ery, had agreed that it was the only way to play it. She needed time, and all they could do was show her they weren’t going anywhere while she processed what had happened.
“What’s going on?”
“Security was called out to the gates. By Regan Penhaligon.”
Jesus Christ.
Lachlan scrubbed a hand over his face. “She’s here?”
“Jock’s escorting her cab up to the castle as we speak.”
Lachlan strode toward the main entrance, and out of his peripheral, he noted Wakefield hurrying across the room to get to the door before he could. He nodded at the man as Wakefield pulled one of the doors open to let him and Mac pass.
The gravel kicked beneath his feet as he saw the vehicles approaching up the long drive.
Movement caught his attention, and he turned to see Robyn jogging up the path from the direction of the studio. He and Mac hurried to meet her.
“My sister?” she asked Mac without preamble as Lachlan pulled his fiancée into his side.
Mac nodded. “Got visual ID. Definitely Regan.”
Robyn exhaled a deep breath, eyes glued to the cab as it followed a Range Rover.
“You okay?” Lachlan asked, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She nodded, patting his chest in reassurance. “Relieved, worried, anxious, furious, concerned, ragey, curious … plus a million other complicated feelings I can’t get into right now.”
“Why do you think she’s here?” Mac asked.
The cab rolled to a stop.