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.