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.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TWO 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.