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She swallowed past a lump in her throat, her hands wrapping around her mug simply because she needed something to anchor her to the present, to stop the panic from setting in.

‘The thing is, this matters. Our child is going to grow up and read this stuff one day. At least, they will if they’re anything like me.’

‘Curiosity is part of the human condition,’ Sarah murmured. ‘Of course they’ll see it. Or if they don’t, someone in their class will and pass it on.’ She understood enough about how school bullies worked to know that much was true.

‘We have to control the narrative, now that it’s out there.’

‘Yes.’ She nodded her absolute agreement. ‘Of course. So, what do we say?’

‘That depends on what you want.’

To marry, or not.

The clock ticked in the background. She gripped her mug tighter, eyes wide as they held his beseechingly.

She knew, deep down, that she’d decided to marry him. If anything, she’d decided almost on that first day, but she’d spent the last several days trying to talk herself out of it, paying more attention to the red flags, worrying about how she’d keep her boundaries in place once she was married to Tate Carrigan.

But those things were now out of her control.

They’d both known they’d do what was right for their baby, and now the answer was black-and-white simple.

‘If I agree to marry you,’ she said, wondering why she still couldn’t just tell him her decision, ‘what would the press release say?’

‘We’ll keep it brief,’ he said. ‘We’ll announce our engagement, without confirming the pregnancy.’

‘I thought you said that would make them want more information.’

‘It will. And we’ll give it, in due course.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘In a few months, when you’re visibly pregnant, we’ll go back to Sydney, or somewhere equally busy, have dinner, get photographed with you showing.’

She stared at him, appalled. ‘Won’t that make it worse?’

‘It will be enough.’

Silence thrummed in the house. ‘How do you live like this?’ she murmured, eventually.

His laugh was gruff, totally devoid of humour or levity. ‘I don’t.’

He moved then, coming to stand beside her and putting his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. His eyes raked her features, his own expression one of pity. ‘Out here, I’m just Tate. None of these guys gives a shit about my last name, my bank balance. It’s why I’m out there so much of the time. To show them I’m more like them than I am like him.’

‘Your father,’ she said, frowning, wishing there were something she could do to erase the long shadow of Hunt Carrigan’s control. ‘I’m guessing he didn’t go out on musters?’

Tate laughed then, his eyes crinkling in a way that immediately made Sarah feel that everything was okay in her world again, because he seemed like himself. Like the man she’d come to know, and feel…something for.

‘He didn’t like to get his hands dirty, no.’

‘He lived here, not Sydney?’

Tate lifted his shoulders. ‘He liked the history and grandeur of this place. He travelled a lot, though.’ He moved his hands to her hips. ‘Whether you marry me or not, the press will be a part of your life. A part of our child’s life. I wish that weren’t the case. You have no idea how much I wish I could change that. I will do everything in my power to limit your exposure, no matter what.’

‘But you’re only human.’

‘You’ll have a secure home, bodyguards.’

Her lips parted as she contemplated the picture he was painting.