One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (27 page)

“You keep accusing me of lying, Peter. When there's such a big trust problem between us…it would wear us both down, you suspecting me of God knows what, me having to defend everything I do or say. It would be a hell of a relationship. Bad for our child, not good.”

“If you could learn to be more open with me,” he retorted pointedly, “we wouldn't have a problem, would we? It's silence that breeds a lack of trust—hiding things that shouldn't be hidden. Be straight with me, Erin. It's as simple as that.”

She remembered Alicia Hemmings calling him a strait-laced bastard. Perhaps she should have taken more heed of that warning. There was no denying she had been at fault, not telling him she'd fallen pregnant, not correcting his assumption that she was a preschool teacher, which, of course, was at the heart of her biggest problem with him.
The author
thing invariably messed with men's minds, making them resentful of her success and the celebrity that went with it.

“It's not so simple, Peter,” she said dispiritedly.

“Yes, it is,” he insisted. “And you can't say we're not sexually compatible. I'd count that as a huge plus for our marriage.”

Was that why he'd come after her with this movie deal…remembering the incredibly erotic and passionate sex they'd had together, wanting it again? She searched his eyes, saw only a burning conviction that he was right and she couldn't refute the argument. Yet how long would great sex last when he began resenting what she did and the attention it drew to her?

“Can you really see yourself living happily with what I am—a writer whose imagination can be triggered at any time, losing my awareness of you and your needs?”

“I'd never try to stop you from doing your thing, Erin,” he asserted, without even pausing to consider the situation. “You have a unique talent and I'd consider it a crime to put any limitation on it. We'll hire a nanny in case you forget to feed Jack or—”

“I'm not that bad,” she cut in sharply. An adult who could look after himself was one thing, her own child quite another. “There's no way I'd neglect Jack.”

“Whatever. It's best he has me to give him attention when your mind is drifting elsewhere. That's how a partnership works,” he said with satisfaction, apparently not the least bit perturbed about her need for time and space.

But he hadn't lived with it, hadn't been irritated and frustrated by it. He'd only experienced one short episode of it at Randwick and that had been more of a curiosity because it hadn't happened to him before.

“What about when publicity centres on me instead of you?” she mocked, not believing he would be so reasonable about that knock to his ego.

He frowned as though he didn't understand what she was getting at. “You can have as much or as little publicity as you like. Though I'd have to say you're bound to get more when we're married. Unavoidable. I can and will protect you from the worst of it, but any time we appear in public together…”

“Oh, come on!” she cried, exasperated by his dismissal of the point. “You don't like me taking the spotlight from you. Every man I've been close to has resented it after a while and you're no exception, Peter Ramsey. It instantly stuck in your craw that a newspaper headline was more about me than you.”

“It stuck in my craw that you'd deliberately deceived me about who you were,” he retorted fiercely. “I wouldn't care if I never made another headline. It sure as hell doesn't do anything for me.”

His vehemence rattled her judgement of the situation. Had she completely misread his reaction to the newspaper story? Feeling hopelessly confused, she held her tongue, needing time to review what had happened between them, try to see it from his point of view.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice,” he muttered, throwing a glance of concern at their baby who was making a mewing sound, wrinkling up his little face, maybe sensing the tension in the room and not liking it.

“It's okay,” Erin crooned, softly stroking her tiny son's cheek. “Mummy loves you.”

“So does Daddy.” The words were spoken very quietly but they were undoubtedly a fighting declaration from Peter. He wasn't about to be sidelined from their lives.

Jack sighed and rested contentedly again.

“He is my son and heir,” Peter stated, his eyes biting in their intensity. “He can't be brought up in an unprotected environment, Erin. You will find life much easier within the Ramsey fold. In fact, it's the only way to give Jack security in every sense.”

The heir to billions…her thinking had not encompassed what that might mean to their child. Peter had lived with it all his life. He knew.

“No one has to know,” she said impulsively. “If he's Jack Lavelle…”

“I will not hide my son's existence,” he grated out.

“He might be more protected that way, have a chance of a normal life,” she pleaded.

“Don't even imagine for one moment that I will not lay claim to him.”

He was right. She couldn't imagine it. That was not the kind of man he was. The sense of a trap closing around her—a trap where she had no control over anything—was very strong. The power of the Ramsey name suddenly reminded her of how she'd become connected to Peter in the first place—the little boy, Thomas, separated from his father, the issue of custody.

“What happened with Dave Harper?”

“That has nothing to do with us,” came the curt dismissal.

“I want to know.”

Her insistence caused his jaw to tighten. He didn't want to go down that road, but she kept her gaze locked on his, determined on an answer.

“It's not relevant to our situation, Erin,” he grated out.

“I want to know,” she repeated, refusing to be closed off on this point which somehow seemed very relevant to her.

“Right!” he snapped. “I placed Dave Harper in a position where he could sell on commission, choosing his own hours to work so he could look after his son without help. Given the lies his wife had told about him, and the fact that she had placed Thomas in daily care at a preschool and had a nanny to look after him the rest of the time, leaving her free to carry on a very social life with her new partner, the family court decided the father would be the better nurturing parent and awarded him major custody.”

Major custody…lies told…

The trap closing around her felt even tighter, the fear growing that she could lose her child to Peter—her one and only child.

A knock on the door was a welcome interruption. Erin felt stressed and exhausted. A matronly nurse entered the room, accompanied by two male hospital orderlies.

“We're here to wheel you to your own room, Miss Lavelle. Get you and your baby settled there,” the nurse announced, smiling brightly at both her and Peter. “And I think I should inform you, Mr Ramsey, that news has got out about your being here with Miss Lavelle. Hospital Reception has been fending off inquiries. Perhaps you'd be good enough to deal with the disturbance, settle the interest that's apparently been stirred?”

Peter heaved a vexed sigh and rose to his full formidable height, clearly girding himself to face a different battle. “How good is security in the maternity wing?” he asked the nurse.

“No unauthorised person will get past my station, Mr Ramsey,” she confidently assured him. “Miss Lavelle should rest now and I shall see to it that she does.”

“Thank you.” He took Erin's hand and gave it a light squeeze to command her attention. “The three ring circus is about to begin,” he said mockingly. “And I'm perfectly happy for you to be the star of this show, Erin.”

“I don't want to be, Peter,” she cried, panicking at the thought of being hounded by the media.

“It's inescapable.”

“You don't have to tell anybody anything,” she pleaded.

“That would only make the problem worse. They'd keep digging.”

“What will you tell them?”

“The truth. The one really good thing about the truth is it doesn't come back and bite you. Keeping secrets is what messes everything up.” He paused to let this all too relevant truth sink home. Then totally careless of the fact that other people were listening, he bored in with, “Do I have your consent to announcing that we're getting married in the near future?”

Inescapable…

She
was
trapped.

Her mind whirled, trying to grasp some other workable way to handle the future. The identity of her own child made going it alone a nightmare of complications. Besides which, Peter wouldn't leave them alone. She was locked into this relationship for the rest of their lives. And if she had to fight him for custody…

Maybe marriage was the best course to take.

She could try it.

Peter couldn't force her to stay married to him if it turned into a miserable disaster.

“It's the right thing to do, Erin.”

She looked up to a blaze of conviction in the steely-blue eyes.

“Yes.” The word spilled from her lips, the sense of inevitability too overwhelming to fight.

He nodded his satisfaction. “Rest easy now. I'll go and fix everything that has to be fixed.” He leaned over and kissed their son's forehead, murmuring. “Be good for your mother.”

With one last searing look at Erin, a look that burned its message into her brain—
We are committed and there's no turning back—
he headed for the door—a big man with broad shoulders, strong enough to handle anything he was faced with.

A whisper of hope drifted through the anxious chaos in Erin's mind. Maybe Peter Ramsey was her prince after all. She took comfort in that thought. It was the only comfort to be had at this point in time.

The die was cast.

They were going to be married.

And she desperately wanted to believe they could live happily ever after.

T
WO
months…two months of holding himself in check while Erin recovered from Jack's birth and made the adjustment from her solitary life to what it meant to be a Ramsey. The waiting was almost over. Tonight she would be his wife. She would share his bed and the desire that had driven him to set up a second meeting with her could finally be freed from the constrictions he'd placed upon it.

The wedding had to come first.

He'd taken every care not to give Erin any cause to change her mind about their marriage, always keeping their son's welfare as the prime reason for it. The sex, which had been so memorable to him and had to be to her, as well, was a secondary lure, promising that the commitment would not be without pleasure. However, the fact that she'd walked away from it once had made him wary of using it as a form of pressure to keep her on track. Once the marriage vows were taken, there would be no walking away.

Ever again.

Which was precisely how he wanted it.

“You're looking grim, Peter. Is everything okay between you and Erin?”

He finished fastening the second cuff link and lifted his gaze to Damien who was standing by, holding the buttonhole carnation ready to be attached to his lapel. He'd been best man for Damien Wynter at his wedding to Charlotte and his friend was now returning the favour.

“Have you detected anything wrong?” he asked, aware of how astute Damien was. He and Charlotte had spent quite a lot of time with Erin since they'd arrived from London for Christmas, staying on for the wedding. They liked her and he thought she liked them, especially warming to his sister, perhaps even confiding some anxiety about the future.

“No. Just aware that you're rather tense,” was the dry response.

It drew a wry smile from Peter. “I've manipulated Erin into this marriage, just as you did with Charlotte. I'm hoping it works out as well as yours has.”

“I hope so, too. She's a very special woman.” No criticism from Damien. Sympathetic understanding in his dark eyes. “You did what you had to do, Peter. Don't fret it. Just go on and win. I have every confidence that you'll find a way to Erin's heart. If you haven't already.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Making a movie of
The Mythical Horses of Mirrima
is a masterstroke. Shows you listened to her. Shows you appreciate her wonderfully creative story-telling. Shows you're not jealous of her career as a writer because you're giving it a boost. And having Zack Freeman consult with her over the screenplay shows respect for her right to have her own vision transferred to a different medium.”

Which all demonstrated to Peter just how astute Damien was. “Read me like a book,” he conceded, reaching for the buttonhole to pin it on.

“You're a master tactician. I've always admired that in you.”

But what his head told him was one thing, what he felt with Erin Lavelle was quite another. He wanted her to respond to him as she had before. He needed that from her. Having his son wasn't enough.

The white carnation was the final touch, marking him as the groom. He wondered what his bride was thinking, feeling. She was in the other wing of the family mansion, having been his mother's guest here at Palm Beach ever since they'd left Byron Bay and come to Sydney. Charlotte was with her now, carrying out the role of matron of honour.

Had Erin been watching the limousines roll in, bringing the wedding guests to the huge marquee in the grounds, thinking how few of them had been invited by her? This wedding was
his
show. But it was for her, to give her the spotlight as his bride, to give her all she deserved to have. Her own parents would not have provided it. They'd been only too happy for Peter to take it on. Even her mother who had remarried a few years ago. It was only too obvious her second husband came first, her daughter an almost unwelcome reminder that she had been married before.

Erin had been out of any family life for a long time. Alone in a way he'd never been alone. At least she had his family now. And Jack. Her love for their son was a beautiful thing to see. This marriage would work. He'd make it work.

“You're getting that grim face again, Peter,” Damien warned.

He forced himself to relax. “I was just thinking it might have been easier for Erin to get married in a registry office as she suggested, instead of all this pomp and ceremony.”

“No.” A very decisive no. “I have it on good authority—namely my wife—that every woman wants a wedding to remember and a no frills affair does not meet the mark.” He clamped a hand on Peter's shoulder. “Time for us to get going. Let's make it a happy night.”

“Right! Thanks for your support, Damien.”

“My pleasure.”

They grinned at each other—both of them born warriors who would not accept defeat. They would stand shoulder to shoulder at this wedding and if happiness could be won, they would win it.

“Here!” Charlotte handed her the bridal bouquet and stood back to eye the full effect of how Erin would appear, walking down the aisle. “Perfect!” she declared. “Your fans are going to love the photos. You look just like a fairy-tale princess bride.”

Erin stared at her reflection in the cheval mirror, her heart lifting at seeing herself precisely how she had dreamt of looking as a bride. She loved the sweetheart neckline of her dress—old-fashioned perhaps, but the more modern strapless dresses had not been what she had envisioned for herself.

The tightly moulded bodice was beautifully beaded with tiny crystals, as was the hem and lower half of the gloriously wide skirt. A diamond tiara—lent to her by Peter's mother—held the veil which frothed out to form a magical frame for her long black hair, softly curling down over her shoulders. A make-up artist had done wonders with her face. It could be called beautiful today. It really could.

She was glad now that Peter had pushed her into accepting a big, formal wedding. He'd been right to do it. Right about so many things. His family had welcomed her into its fold, making meeting them, being with them, incredibly easy. Christmas had been marvellous, especially with Charlotte and Damien being here with their two-year-old son, James, and their four-month-old daughter, Genevieve. The warmth, the laughter, the gift-giving…it had felt so good to be part of it. Not an outsider at all.

Even Lloyd Ramsey, who looked so terribly intimidating, had turned out to be surprisingly charming. And he loved Jack. His new grandson was definitely the apple of his eye. He'd perch Jack on his big, broad chest while he read the newspaper, informing the baby of any interesting movement on the share market.

“This boy is a Ramsey,” he'd declared. “Can't start learning too soon.”

The past two months had been a huge learning curve for Erin. She'd been very wrong about Peter's mother viewing her as an interesting curiosity. Kate truly admired her work, knew every story she'd written. And Lloyd Ramsey admired the fact that she was a performer, using her God-given talent to the best of her ability, making a big success of it.

No-one expected her to stop writing and just be Peter's wife. Least of all, Peter, who was determined on increasing public awareness of her authorship with his movie of
The Mythical Horses of Mirrima.

“Happy?” Charlotte asked, grinning at her.

Erin smiled back. “I couldn't look better. And you look stunning, too.”

Charlotte was wearing a gold satin sheath, perfect for her colouring. Her hair was darker than Peter's, more caramel with blond streaks, and she had amber eyes, not blue. To Erin's mind, Charlotte and Damien, who was tall, dark and strikingly handsome, were a golden couple. They shone with happiness in their love for each other. She fiercely hoped this marriage would work, that she and Peter could end up living happily ever after together.

“Something wrong?” Charlotte asked.

Erin shook her mind back to the present. “No. Everything's fine.”

“You went away for a moment.” There was a frown of concern on her face.

“I have a habit of doing that,” Erin quickly replied, grimacing an apology.

The frown didn't clear. “It didn't look like a good place, Erin. Are you okay with marrying Peter?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. He's a good man. I've never met better.” That was the absolute truth.

Charlotte's expression turned reflective. “You know, I didn't love Damien when I married him. He more or less rescued me from a nasty situation and I took the chance he offered to turn humiliation into a triumph.”

“You're very well matched.”

“Yes.” A wicked grin burst across her face. “And he's still the sexiest man in the world for me.” One eye arched in provocative inquiry. “I take it you were hot for Peter when Jack was conceived?”

“Very much so,” she answered wryly.

“Well, I don't know what went wrong between you two back then, but if that primal spark is still there, it sort of pushes you into growing closer together. Just don't hold back on it, Erin. Peter needs to be wanted for himself, you know. Not for what he can give.”

“I know.” She smiled to show that she understood. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

Erin was only too aware of how much Peter was giving. It was an embarrassment of riches all going one way. She wasn't giving him anything except ready access to their son. Although she had given up control of her own life, her independence, and she couldn't help thinking that all Peter's
gifts
were aimed at sweetening her surrender to this marriage.

He wanted Jack.

But she wasn't sure he still wanted her.

He hadn't once tried to reignite the primal spark, not with a look, a kiss…no attempt whatsoever to establish any form of physical intimacy between them. It made Erin worry that, in his mind, she was still tainted by her lies of omission. She felt very nervous about what would happen tonight, when the wedding was over, how it would be as his wife, not just the mother of his child.

“Time for us to get going, Erin,” Charlotte said. “Ready?”

“Yes, I'm ready.”

Ready to seal the commitment she had made, for better or for worse. From the day of their son's birth, Peter had been driving her towards this moment. There was no turning back. Let it be done now, she thought on a wave of fateful resignation. Deal with what came after…after.

They went downstairs.

Her father was waiting in the grand foyer, ready to escort her to the marquee and give her away. He'd given her away when she was seven, Erin thought. Peter would never do that to Jack.

She had to make this marriage work.

Had to.

A princess…a gut-wrenchingly beautiful princess. Peter's heart started galloping as she walked down the aisle towards him. A surge of desire tightened his groin.

His bride.

The woman he'd wanted more than any other.

But she wasn't smiling.

Her gaze was tightly focused on him, not even a glance at the guests on either side of red carpet she trod with deliberately measured steps. Her chin was held high. Peter read determination on her face, and he was suddenly riven with doubt.

Had he done right by her in hemming her into this marriage?

Too late to change anything now.

And he didn't want to.

A fierce wave of possessiveness ran through him. Erin…Jack…both of them belonged with him. He would make her see it, make her believe it.

Yet he couldn't get rid of the doubt. It plagued him during the wedding service and throughout the reception afterwards. He put on a happy face. To Erin's credit she put on a happy face, too. They fulfilled the role of a happy couple in front of the sea of guests.

But it was a strain to Peter and he sensed the hidden tension in Erin, too. He was glad when ten o'clock came—the agreed time for Erin to slip away from the party to breast-feed Jack. The festive dinner had been eaten, the speeches were over, the cake had been cut, coffee was being served.

“I'll come with you,” he said, keeping his arm hooked around hers as he guided her to the exit of the marquee.

She threw him a startled look. “You don't have to. You have so many friends here, Peter.”

“I want to.”

He didn't care if she preferred to be alone for a while. She was his bride, his wife, and be damned if he'd lose her, even for a moment, on this, their wedding night.

Her fingers fluttered nervously across his coat-sleeve, but she voiced no further protest. Once they were outside and on the path through the rose garden to the conservatory, he heard her suck in a deep breath as though she was short of oxygen.

“Thank you for the wedding, Peter,” she said softly. “Everything's been beautiful.”

Mega-wealth could buy everything beautiful, he thought cynically, but it can't buy the heart of a woman. At least he knew Erin hadn't married him for his billions.