“Like a nagging conscience over hiding my child from me?”
“I wasn’t going to!” she almost shouted at him.
He’d stopped just inside the study and cut a terribly forbidding figure, making her quail at trying to convince him of anything. But she had to. A future of gut-wrenching conflict between them had to be averted.
“Look!” she cried, pulling out the top drawer of her desk and grabbing the business card she’d fingered so many times, agonising over calling him, holding it out for him to see. “I kept it. Why would I have it so handy if I never meant to contact you?”
The laser blue eyes were briefly hooded as his gaze dropped to the card that was being shakily offered to him. For several nerve-wracking seconds he stared at it. His face remained grim. Her challenge wasn’t working. She wasn’t reaching him.
“For God’s sake, Peter! You told me how you’d feel about your own children. How could I not give you the chance to be a hands-on father?”
It drew his gaze up to hers again, not quite so bitterly condemning now but still sceptical of her intentions.
“Remember our conversation about the Harpers?” she begged in appeal.
“I remember you saying you would only have a child within the security of a truly committed marriage,” he bit out as though that was another lie.
Anguish twisted through her, spilling into pleading words. “Doesn’t that tell you this pregnancy was an accident? I didn’t use you. I didn’t plan anything. I’ve just been trying to get on with my own life until…”
Pain…more savage than before. She gasped, instinctively bending over to contain it.
“Erin?”
She couldn’t answer the sharp inquiry. Her mind was yelling at her to breathe in quick pants, relax, ease the agony. Then to her horror, a gush of water drenched her panties and ran down her legs.
“Oh, no…no…” she wailed.
“What’s wrong?”
She lifted her head.
Peter was striding towards her, full of urgent concern now.
“The baby,” she cried. “The baby is coming.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A COMPLETELY different fear gripped Erin as Peter gently lowered her into the chair she used for writing—fear for the baby. Something had to be wrong for it to be coming a month early. She wrapped her arms protectively around her belly, rocking it in an agony of hope that all was still well.
“Try to stay calm. Panic won’t help,” Peter coolly advised. “Give me your doctor’s name and I’ll get things moving for you.”
“Davis.” She nodded to the telephone on the desk. “Press six for his surgery.”
Within seconds he was acting for her. “This is Peter Ramsey, calling on behalf of Erin Lavelle. I need to be connected to Dr Davis immediately. This is an emergency.”
A waiting pause, then, “Yes, I am that Peter Ramsey. I’m with Erin Lavelle. Her water has broken and she’s suffering labour pain. I’d appreciate it if you’d despatch an ambulance immediately to her house on Ocean Drive, number 14, and meet us at the hospital when we get there.”
Another pause.
The bad pain had receded, leaving only a dull ache. Erin couldn’t help wondering how Dr Davis was reacting to a string of demands, backed by the power of the Ramsey name and everything it stood for.
“Thank you,” Peter said, obviously having received a satisfactory reply. He put the telephone receiver back in its cradle and turned his attention to her, catching the frown of concern on her face. “I’ve missed something?” he asked.
“You’re going to turn this birth into a three-ring-circus bandying your name about like that.”
His eyes glittered derisively at her complaint. “You might as well start getting used to it, Erin. You’ll be attached to the Ramsey zoo for a long time to come. And quite frankly, I don’t give a damn for your reclusive inclinations in this particular instance. For the sake of our child, I’m asking for top priority service, and since my mother has guided my father into donating millions to the medical system of this country, I consider it a reasonable request.”
It probably was. And she was grateful that he had ensured quick attention for her and the baby, grateful that he was here, helping her. “I’m sorry. It just seemed…unnecessary. I’m not…not thinking straight.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said more kindly. “Just let me take care of everything. Do you want to get out of these wet clothes while we’re waiting for the ambulance or do you think it’s best not to move?”
“I’m frightened of moving.”