Royal Heir (Westerly Billionaire #3)(60)

“This is who I am,” he’d said.

And I have never been more myself than when I’m with him.

As they spun around the dance floor, Rachelle asked herself why, despite how he drove her crazy, she couldn’t imagine returning home and going on a date with anyone else. “Make me yours as much as I will make you mine.” He’d issued that challenge to her.

I don’t know how to, but my gut tells me it doesn’t happen by agreeing to a proposal that doesn’t include love. “Magnus, don’t you think love should be a prerequisite to proposing to anyone?”

“Love is a weak base to build a marriage on.”

“You’re wrong. It’s the only base strong enough to sustain a marriage.”

“Did your parents love each other?”

His question cut deeply. “Yes.”

“My parents married before love came to them. What they had was commitment to each other and to our country.”

“I’m not your mother, Magnus.” As she said it, she realized something else as well. “I’m not mine, either. I want it all—the love, the promise, and the forever after. If I find that, I’ll fight for it, but I wouldn’t marry for less.”

They danced for several moments without speaking. There was a beauty and a sadness to the way they connected without truly connecting.

“I’m not looking for my mother. Nor am I interested in one like yours. You are the first woman I can imagine ruling beside me. If love is what you require, we’ll find it first.”

Find it? She chuckled, half convinced he was joking again. “That’s not how love works.”

He stopped then and kissed her as if she already belonged to him, was already a part of him. Lust and longing swept through her until there was nothing beyond him. When he raised his head, they were both breathing raggedly.

Breathlessly, she said, “But we could give it a try.”



Around noontime, Magnus woke to the satisfying feeling of a once-again-naked Rachelle cuddled to his side. Although he’d had many relationships in his life, he hadn’t encouraged any of those women to spend the night in his bed. Normally he preferred to wake alone, but Rachelle had turned that on its head. She was where she belonged.

He grimaced as he remembered his proposal. By nature he wasn’t an impulsive man, and he’d taken even himself by surprise with his talk of marriage. Their marathon of lovemaking must have softened his brain. He was lucky she’d turned him down.

Even though he didn’t feel lucky.

Logically, he knew it didn’t make sense to move forward with Rachelle before the issue with her grandmother was resolved. He didn’t believe she was involved, but there were still too many unknowns to be certain. He had a high success rate when it came to setting and achieving goals, because he gathered facts before he acted. There were fewer surprises that way. In his experience the unexpected was never good.

Except in the case of Rachelle. Nothing about her or what she brought into his life was predictable, and yet he couldn’t imagine waking up the next day without her in his bed. Was that the love she sought?

Many women would not have turned him down, regardless of how he’d phrased it. She expected more from him. Her happiness was already important to him. He enjoyed making her smile and could easily imagine raising children with her. Infidelity would never be a problem, since Magnus did not make a vow he was not prepared to honor.

She wants all that, and love, too. Not just any kind of love, but the romantic Americanized version of it. Am I capable of that?

Would I be happy with any less from her?

It was a question he hadn’t thought to ask himself until just that moment. He turned and studied her peaceful expression as she slept. He didn’t want her to agree to be with him out of convenience or because he was the best fuck she’d ever had. He wanted her heart as well as her body.

Without waking her, he gave her temple a gentle kiss. I understand now.

I will propose to you again, little Rachelle, but not until I can say the three words you will soon proclaim to me.

Her eyes opened slowly. “Do you ever sleep?”

“Should I respond with something romantic?”

She smiled. “You could try.”

He lightly slapped her rump beneath the bedsheets. “Perhaps I would do better with some instruction. What does an American man say after a night of good sex?”

“Are you still here?” she joked dryly.

He threw back his head and laughed. “Men are the same everywhere.”

“Sadly, yes,” she said with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him as he went. “Give me a day to recuperate and I will remind you of our differences as well.”

She kissed him. “What makes you think I’ll give you the chance to?”

“This,” he said, kissing her back, deeper and slower. When the kiss ended, her cheeks had flushed beautifully. “My bed is your bed from now on.”

She cocked her head to one side as she looked down at him. “Some men might phrase that as a question.”

He dug his hands into her hair and brought her lips to his again, this time for a possessive kiss. Nothing separated her skin from his, so he felt how his words affected her. Her body, although well loved, tightened with excitement. He shifted beneath her so his quickly hardening cock was cupped by her wet sex. “Other men do not matter to me, and they will no longer matter to you.” Before she had a chance to respond, he angled his pelvis back so his tip parted her folds. “You’re mine, Rachelle.”