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She knew he wanted her to stay in bed, knew that he wanted her to appear to be his little fuck toy. Claire agreed that was the safest way to play it, but it felt disingenuous considering how much she disliked cops. She decided for once, she was going to try and play it his way.
She propped up the pillows to make herself more comfortable and thought about what he was asking her to do. Was it really so much? He made a good point when he’d said her granda would never want her hurt or in prison. Her granda would also have liked Fletch a lot, and Claire suspected had he still been alive, he would have admonished her to do as he asked, but then her granda was a man who believed men should be the head of the household. That wasn’t completely true. More than once he’d told her that worthy men should be the dominant partner in a relationship. And those who weren’t worthy weren’t worth much and should be cast aside.
It was hard to even conceive of a life where she walked the straight and narrow but Fletch had suggested a way her skills could help his business so that she could be a part of it and still have the fun of planning heists. She knew that would be a relief to Mia. Mia had followed her into a life of crime only because they were best friends, and she hadn’t wanted Claire to be alone.
No matter how she thought of it or which way she tried to think her way around it, the primary question remained the same. Was Ryland Fletcher worth giving up her old life in favor of creating something new? Once she settled on the actual choice, it wasn’t a choice at all. As much as she wanted to steal the Clarion, getting it back to the original victim’s family wasn’t worth sacrificing a life with Fletch for. She’d help them any way she could, short of breaking the law.
She waited for a moment of panic or indecision or even regret and found nothing but peace. Ryland Fletcher was worth whatever she thought she had to sacrifice in order to build a life with him.
And wasn’t he making compromises, too? After all, the man was straighter than the arrows his ancestors must have made in order to earn the surname Fletcher. He did not see shades of gray in the world around him. He saw dark and light, black and white. But even so, he’d chosen to love her. Chosen her over everything else in his life that he held dear. She’d chided him for not having to change or make any compromises when nothing could be further from the truth.
If she was honest, she had to admit that stealing the Clarion Necklace had as much to do with thumbing her nose, metaphorically speaking, at Evangeline Robbins as it did in righting an old wrong. And if she looked at it that way, wasn’t marrying Fletch the ultimate ‘nanner nanner?’
Although, when she thought about it, he’d talked about them being together and never once had he mentioned getting married. She held the pillow to her chest, inhaling his scent and laughing. If he wanted to flummox the cops, she knew just the way to do it.
Hopping out of bed, she pulled on his sweater that hung midway to her knees, put her hair up into a high, loose ponytail and opened the door. She meant to give the cops and his men, not to mention Fletch, something to talk about for a long time to come.
Three cops—some kind of detective she thought and two uniformed officers—were standing just inside the doorway.
“Damn it, I told you to keep it down. Now you’ve woken her up.”
Claire crossed the room, wrapping her arms around his waist as she hugged him from behind. “It wasn’t the cops that woke me, lover, it was the empty bed.”
“You have zero discretion. Zero,” he chuckled. She could feel his whole body echoing the lusty sound.
“Why should I be discreet? It’s my cottage. They are here without an invitation or, I suspect, a warrant.”
“She does have you there gentlemen. Besides which I am willing to swear out an affidavit that Dr. Mitchell—you are aware that she is a highly educated and respected art restoration expert—and I have been in bed.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I am sorry we woke you. Was there something you wanted?”
“Other than you and that big dick of yours?”
“No discretion at all.”
“Hey, you asked the question, but since you did—and I will have cops as witnesses—you were planning to marry me, weren’t you?”
“Yes. I haven’t had time to find you a ring, but yes, my plans for the immediate future are to put a ring on your finger and make you legally mine. Now why don’t you be a good girl and go back to bed. I’ll be with you shortly.”
“Shortly? That’s a crock. I’ve seen every inch of you—and I do mean every inch—and there isn’t anything short about you.”
His men all laughed quietly.
“Go back to bed, Claire.” He turned her around and gave her backside an affectionate swat. “Now.”
“Your wish is my command,” she said, turning and backing away as she genuflected to him.
She wasn’t sure why but the way he rolled his eyes made her happy. Closing the door between them, she ran and jumped into bed, something she hadn’t done since she was a child. She drew his sweater over her head and settled back down into the bed. She closed her eyes, planning to rest until he rejoined her. Soon, she was fast asleep.
The following morning, she woke to the pale light of dawn cascading through the windows. A note from Fletch was on the bed beside her.
Claire,
I love you. Never, ever forget that. I need to go into London and see if I can finalize the deal I had in place before last night. I think your little scene may have convinced the cops but be advised I wasn’t joking.
I will have a ring when I return. Do not give me shit about saying yes.
Carter is with me. Bax and the rest of the boys are going to patrol outside the cottage so you and Mia can sleep. If you need something, use the comms device I left in the kitchen.
Fletch
