The Man From her Wayward Past

‘I spoke to Nacho—obviously,’ he told her. ‘Nacho was your guardian while you were still a minor, so I felt it my duty to tell him about my intentions.’

‘Your intentions?’ Lucia was sure her whole world had just tipped on its axis. ‘Luke, will you stop with the formal stuff for a moment? Are you proposing to me?’

‘I might be,’ he said, giving her one of his looks.

‘Well, either you are or you aren’t.’

Luke merely raised a brow.

‘You can’t joke about something like this, Luke.’

‘Me? Joking? You demanding a serious approach? You’re right, Lucia. What is the world coming to?’

‘Stop it,’ she said, but without much force. She couldn’t get too het up when she could hardly breathe because her heart was beating so fast. ‘You actually asked Nacho if you could marry me?’

‘I did,’ Luke confirmed.

She half expected thunderclaps to rend the air and a screeching Mrs Forster to make her entrance on a rocket-powered broomstick. But instead the waves lapped gently at their feet and Luke looked more certain than she had ever seen him—and Luke Forster was hardly noted for his indecision.

‘I asked Nacho because that was the right thing to do, and I told my parents because I love them.’

‘And they were …?’

‘Relieved that I had finally found someone like you,’ Luke cut in as Lucia frowned with concern. ‘Someone real—someone with a bit of spark about her, as my father put it.’

‘And your mother?’

‘My mother couldn’t wait to get on the phone to her friends.’ Luke’s lips tugged wickedly. ‘According to my father they’re the toast of the country club, and my mother’s friends are green with envy, as I predicted. Are you pleased with the ring?’ he added gently. ‘I know your mother would want you to wear it.’

‘She adored you,’ Lucia murmured, feeling there was still some hidden power connecting her to her mother as she studied the ring. And as for Luke giving her the ring here on this beach, where they had shared so many happy memories—it was like a blessing on their future lives together. ‘Luke Forster!’ she exclaimed as Luke went down on one knee in front of her. ‘Are you really doing what I think you’re doing?’

‘Either that or my legs have given way,’ Luke said dryly. ‘So, what’s your answer, Lucia? Will you marry me?’

Lucia came to kneel on the damp sand in front of him and, leaning forward so their brows touched, she put her hands over his and said simply, ‘I will.’

Luke kept his room at the Grand, while Lucia stayed at the guest house to help Margaret recruit more staff. They had decided that while Luke would run the family business and the charitable foundation they would form a joint venture company to handle their burgeoning interests in the hotel industry.

‘Everything dovetails neatly,’ Lucia told Luke as she showed him the schedule she’d drawn up to take them hectically towards Christmas and the wedding they were planning to hold at the estancia in Argentina.

‘That’s a pretty tight schedule, Mrs Luke Donald Forster the Third-to-be,’ Luke observed.

‘Don’t you dare,’ Lucia warned, flinging a cushion with deadly accuracy. ‘I’m not having my rampaging polo player turning into a stuffed shirt.’

‘Would you rather I took the shirt off?’

‘Is that a serious question? More importantly, is there time?’

‘Margaret’s in town,’ he growled, freeing the buttons on her blouse.

‘How am I supposed to concentrate on work?’

‘You’re not. I’ll do all the work.’

‘What are you doing?’ she protested breathlessly as he lifted her.

‘If you don’t know now …’

‘And what if Margaret walks in?’