Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (15 page)

He made an attempt to sit across from her.

She shook her head. “Oh, no, you don't.”

With great deliberation, she settled on the seat beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder. In the calm following the dramatic events of the evening, he liked having her close. He braided their fingers together and breathed in the scent of her. They sat that way for nearly twenty minutes.

Only when the carriage pulled to a stop outside the hotel did she smile up at him with a mischievous light in her eyes. “Well, I'd say tonight went quite well. Wouldn't you agree, Jonathon?”

Like an echo from the past, his responding bark of laughter was equal parts pain and tempered hope. “I adore you.”

* * *

Still smiling up at Jonathon, Fanny let his beautiful words settle over her. He'd been quiet during the carriage ride back to the hotel. She'd honored as long as humanly possible his wish to remain silent.

Now, with their gazes locked and their fingers entwined, she felt his sorrow as though it were her own.

He reached for the door handle. She stopped him with a tug on their joined hands.

“Before we head inside, I want to say—”

She broke off, suddenly at a loss for words. What could she say that would make his pain disappear?

Her heart broke for this wonderful, giving man. Tonight had been difficult for him. Joshua Greene had claimed Jonathon as his son and in the process killed whatever chance there'd been for reconciliation.

Any hope his father would prove himself an honorable man was dead. Now, Jonathon clearly grieved. Fanny saw the sense of loss in his eyes.

“You can't pretend you're not hurting over what happened tonight, and I can't pretend not to hurt for you.”

The smile he gave her was full of sadness, the depth of which she'd never seen in him before. “Fanny, you realize tonight was merely a trial run for the days ahead.”

“I'm not sure what you mean.”

“The truth is out, if somewhat skewed. By tomorrow morning everyone will know I am Joshua Greene's son and that my mother never told him about me.”

“That's a lie. Not everyone will accept his word as truth.” But she knew that wasn't entirely possible. Though she'd like to think the whole of Denver would believe Jonathon's version over his father's lies, Fanny wasn't that naive.

As if reading her mind, Jonathon voiced her concerns aloud. “Some will believe his tale, Fanny. They may even think I conspired with my mother for years and am now extorting Greene with this information for my own purposes.”

“That's absurd.”

“The gossip will turn toward you. Your reputation will suffer yet another blow. I can't let that happen.”

Something in the way he spoke, with such resolve and a complete lack of emotion, terrified her. “What...what are you saying?”

“You don't have to go through with our wedding. I'd understand if you are having second thoughts.”

“Are
you
having second thoughts?”

“Yes, I am,” he admitted. “I won't marry you if a connection to me further jeopardizes your reputation. That would defeat the entire purpose.”

Fanny thought she'd been afraid before. But now, at the determination she heard in Jonathon's words, she grew terrified he would break off their engagement.

She could not lose him, not like this.

Words tumbled quickly out of her mouth. “Judge Greene might be arrogant enough to think people will believe he is without fault. But he shamelessly committed adultery. That point cannot be denied. The people in this city will not be as forgiving as he claims.”

For a long, tense moment Jonathon stared at her. Then finally, thankfully, his mouth lifted in a smile. “Is that your way of saying I'm stuck with you?”

Relief made her shoulders slump forward. “That's absolutely what I'm saying. In one week from today, in front of a hundred witnesses and God Himself, I will proudly become your wife.”

Jonathon's eyebrows lifted. “Proudly?”

She leaned toward him. “You caught that part, did you?”

“You're the finest woman I know, Fanny Mitchell.” He cupped her face in his hand.

“We'll get through this, Jonathon.” She placed a kiss on his palm. “With all the practice we've had lately, we're masters at facing down gossip. We could teach classes on the subject.”

He angled his head, searched her face as if looking for a hint of remorse or doubt. He would find none.

Being the good man that he was, he gave her one last chance to change her mind. “You can still back out.”

“Yes, yes, so you've said. Can we be through with the discussion now?”

He moved his head close to hers, paused when their faces were inches from touching. A shift on either of their parts and their mouths would unite. “I'll take the full blame, Fanny. Your reputation won't have to suffer, and would perhaps be enhanced if you—”

“Are you going to continue blathering, or kiss me?”

One corner of his mouth lifted and a very masculine light shone in his eyes. “You want me to kiss you?”

“Yes, please.”

He seemed to need no more encouragement, and pressed his lips to hers. Silent promises were made by each of them, promises Fanny prayed they both would keep.

Far too soon, he set her away from him.

This time when he reached for the door handle she didn't stop him. As he escorted her to her room, they spoke about nothing of substance, a nice change from all the emotion of the evening.

At her door, he paused. “Good night, Fanny.”

“Good night, Jonathon.”

He lightly kissed her forehead, her temple and then her nose. There was such tenderness in each brush of his lips. Her eyes filled with tears.

One last touch of his lips to hers and he stepped back. “I pray you have sweet dreams.”

“I know I will.” With the memory of his kisses warming every corner of her heart, how could she not?

Chapter Fifteen

F
anny woke the morning of her wedding to the pleasant sound of birdsong outside her window. She stretched beneath the warm, downy comforter and looked around the luxurious room Jonathon had insisted she move into three days ago.

Snuggling deeper under the covers, she let out a jaw-cracking yawn, the result of too little sleep. Callie had spent the night with her, claiming it was one of her duties as the matron of honor. They'd stayed up late, giggling and sharing secrets as they'd so often done as young girls on the ranch.

Fanny hadn't realized how much she'd missed her sister. Ever since Callie had married Reese, Fanny had intentionally avoided spending too much time with her. The newlyweds deserved a chance to build their relationship without any distractions. An ex-fiancée—who also happened to be the bride's younger sister—definitely qualified as a distraction.

When Callie had announced she was going to have a baby, Fanny had created even more distance, this time for selfish reasons. She'd been fearful that her jealousy and yearning for her own child would put a permanent wedge between her and Callie.

She'd been wrong to worry. Last night, she'd felt only happiness for her sister.

Fanny attributed her change in perspective to her growing relationship with Jonathon. She'd never felt more treasured, more special, than when she was in his company. Not because of the few stolen kisses they'd shared under the stars, but because of Jonathon's tenderness toward her, his attentiveness and—all right, yes—his kisses.

More importantly, they'd faced down, as a couple, the gossip over his connection to Judge Greene, and had grown closer for the experience.

Society hadn't sided with Greene, or even Jonathon, but with the judge's poor, deceived wife. Fanny hadn't foreseen that particular result, but lauded the gossips for rallying around Mrs. Greene. Fanny almost felt sorry for Jonathon's father.
Almost
, but not quite, especially since he was still arrogantly sticking to his version of the story, as if
he
was the injured party.

Fanny banished all unpleasant thoughts from her mind. Today was a day for joy.

She stretched her arms overhead, and once again hooked her gaze on the ceiling. For this one moment, when Callie was off who-knew-where, and Fanny was completely alone, with no one watching her, no one asking her questions about the future, she let herself...dream.

In a matter of hours, she would become Mrs. Jonathon Hawkins. Anticipation hummed in her veins. They would have a good marriage, a happy, long—

Her door swung open with a bang.

Callie rushed into the room, jumped on the bed, then proceeded to bounce up and down on her knees. “You're getting married in a few hours.”

“Oh.” Fanny pretended to yawn. “Is that today?”

“You know it is.” Still bouncing, eyes lit with a teasing light, Callie pointed a finger at her. “No begging off this time.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

Fanny scooted to her right, as much to avoid getting mauled by her sister's enthusiasm as to make room for Callie on the bed.

Still laughing at her own joke, Callie collapsed backward, wiggled around a bit, then set her head on the pillow and studied the ceiling with narrowed eyes. “Will you look at that? Even the plaster is beautiful in this hotel.”

Fanny eyed the swirling rosettes set inside a four-by-four square pattern. “When it comes to his hotels, Jonathon is a stickler for detail.”

“So I gathered.” Her gaze running from the center of the ceiling to the crown molding, Callie laughed again. Then stopped abruptly and swiveled her head on the pillow. “Are you happy, Fanny? Truly?”

“Oh, Cal, yes,
yes
, I am.” Fanny smiled over at her. “I am so very, very happy.”

“I knew you would end up with Mr. Hawkins.” Her sister's voice held a decidedly smug note. “In fact, I have known for some time now, almost a full year.”

Fanny very much doubted that. “You can't possibly have known for that long. Besides, I was in Chicago a year ago.”

“I stand by my assessment.” Callie held her stare without flinching. “I am very wise about these sorts of things.”

“Are you?” Fanny rolled her eyes. “Might I remind you, oh wise one, how for weeks after I broke my engagement with Reese you pushed me to change my mind? And when I left town, you all but threatened to bodily drag me back to Denver so I could make amends?”

Callie opened her mouth, closed it, sighed heavily. “I find in cases such as these that a dreadful memory is most helpful, as is a swift change in subject.”

“Indeed.”

“Back to what I was saying.” She lifted up on one elbow. “I've known Mr. Hawkins has had feelings for you ever since I worked as Mrs. Singletary's companion.”

How could Callie possibly have known such a thing? Fanny and Jonathon had been veritable strangers at the time Callie had lived under Mrs. Singletary's roof.

“I detect your doubt, but remember, Mr. Hawkins was a frequent guest at the widow's house,” Callie told her. “Whenever your name came up, he sang your praises.”

Something warm and wonderful spread through Fanny. “Truly?”

“Oh, yes. He made a point of telling me that you were
thriving
in Chicago. At the time, I was very upset with him, so the news didn't sit well.” Callie sank back onto the pillow. “I blamed him for helping you leave town.”

“If he hadn't given me a job, I would have found another route of escape.”

Callie sighed. “I know that now.”

“Come on, Cal, you must admit.” Fanny nudged her sister's shoulder. “Things worked out pretty well for you. You are married to a wonderful man and have a baby on the way.”

Callie turned her head, her gaze full of gratitude. “If I haven't said it enough already, thank you, Fanny, thank you for breaking your engagement to Reese.”

“You're most welcome.”

They fell silent, each lost in her own thoughts.

Callie shifted, rose up on her elbow again. “I confess, I didn't know for certain that Mr. Hawkins was besotted with you until Mrs. Singletary's charity ball.”

Fanny thought of the moment on the hotel terrace when she'd kissed Jonathon. “I have a confession of my own to make.”

“That sounds interesting.” Callie poked her in the ribs. “Do tell.”

“I...” Fanny sighed. “I was the one who initiated our first kiss. If I'd known the Ferguson sisters were watching, I would have never—”

“Wait, stop, go back. I wasn't talking about Mrs. Singletary's charity ball this year. I was talking about the one she held last year.”

“
Last
year?”

“I saw the way he looked at you. It's the same way Reese looks at me. But what really gave Mr. Hawkins away was how he capitulated to your every request for your current position. He adores you, Fanny, and has for some time.”

Could it be true? Fanny barely dared to hope.

If Jonathon had feelings for her, feelings that had been building for over a year now, surely he would want to have a real marriage with her.

“Enough lazing about.” Callie hopped off the bed and dragged Fanny with her. “It is my duty to ensure the bride has a hearty breakfast. I will not shirk my responsibilities.”

Fanny hugged her sister. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. Now,” Callie clapped her hands together in a gesture that reminded Fanny of Beatrix Singletary. “You require sustenance and I shall see you get some.”

“I think...” Fanny pressed a hand to her churning stomach. “I'm too nervous to eat.”

“There's nothing to be nervous about.” Callie presented her best big-sister smile. “It's going to be a good day, Fanny.”

A ridiculously pleasant flutter went through her heart. “No, Callie, it's going to be a
great
day.”

* * *

Later that same morning, huddled inside his heavy coat, Jonathon made the journey to Charity House on foot. In just over an hour, he would pledge his life to Fanny's at the church connected with the orphanage. It was one of the many things they'd agreed upon about their wedding.

He'd enjoyed the planning process. He and Fanny made a good team. Their easy working relationship at the hotel had seamlessly translated into a personal one.

Fanny was purity and light, so little of life's tragedies had truly touched her. Jonathon didn't want that to change because of him. He wanted to be a good husband, but he was a little fuzzy on what that actually entailed.

Surely Marc Dupree would have pearls of wisdom to share on the matter. The man had been happily married for over sixteen years.

Jonathon would like to think he'd played a role, albeit small, in Marc and Laney's romance. Had he not picked Marc's pocket that fine spring day, been caught in the act and
then been marched back home to Charity House, the two may never have met.

Smiling at the memory, Jonathon unlatched the gate and sauntered up the front walkway, his gaze on Charity House. Not much had changed since he'd lived here. The three-story structure was as regal and imposing as he remembered.

The red bricks, black shutters and whitewashed porch rail fit in with every other mansion on the street. The difference being, of course, that forty boys and girls slept under this roof, rather than one family and a host of servants.

The familiar sound of children at play wafted from the backyard. Smiling at last, Jonathon conquered the front steps two at a time and entered the house.

The front parlor was empty, as was expected. The children weren't allowed in this area of the house without adult supervision. “Anybody home?”

“We're in Marc's office.” Laney's muffled response came from the back of the house.

Jonathon worked his way through the labyrinth of hallways and corridors, then pushed through the door that led to Marc's office.

Warmth. Acceptance. Unconditional love.

They were all here for him, in this room, with these two people, the man and woman who'd taken on the role of his parents for four years.

“There's the groom.” Laney rushed over and yanked him into a motherly hug. After nearly squeezing all the breath out of him, she stepped back and straightened the lapels of his morning suit. “Aren't you handsome? Your bride is going to swoon when she sees you.”

He grinned at the absurd image her words created. “Keep complimenting me like that, Laney Dupree, and I might have to steal you away from your husband.”

He winked at Marc, then swooped the petite woman into his arms and dipped her low to the ground.

She came up gasping and laughing.

“Oh, you.” She playfully slapped his arm. “You always did have quick moves and too much charm for your own good.”

“Which,” Marc said, “if I remember correctly—and of course, I do—those quick moves got our boy into more than a few scuffles. One in particular comes to mind, involving my wallet.”

“If
I
remember correctly,” Jonathon countered, “had I not picked your pocket, you would have never found out about Charity House. The way I see it, you owe me a debt of gratitude.”

“No argument there.” Chuckling, Marc circled around his desk and, ignoring Jonathon's offered hand, pulled him into a quick, back-slapping hug. “You ready for today?”

He nodded. “Thank you, again, for agreeing to stand up with me.”

“It's my honor and privilege.” Sincerity sounded in Marc's words and shone in his eyes.

Jonathon's throat tightened.

This was the man he'd spent his entire adult life attempting to emulate.

“We have a while before we're due at the church. I thought you and I might take a few minutes to talk before we head over.”

“That's my husband's polite way of telling me to leave the room.” Laney rose onto her toes and kissed Jonathon's cheek. “I'm proud of you, Johnny. You're going to make your lovely bride a superior husband.”

Jonathon wanted to agree with her, but found he could only manage a noncommittal shrug.

“Talk to Marc. You'll feel better once you do.” She patted his arm, then quit the room without another word.

Typical Laney, he thought, as he stared at her retreating back. The woman was both perceptive and kind.

Still, dread slid down Jonathon's spine. He would never hurt Fanny, that was a given. He would provide for her and protect her from harm. Would it be enough?

The world she came from was vastly different from the world he'd once inhabited. They certainly didn't have the same definition of family. Misunderstandings were sure to arise. Would they navigate them well, or would seemingly small matters grow into issues too big to overcome?

“Take a seat, Johnny, before you fall over.”

“I'm good standing.” But he wasn't. So he did as Marc suggested and sank in an overstuffed chair covered in brown leather worn to a fine patina.

Marc sat in the chair beside him. “I know that look in your eyes. It's called panic.”

Not bothering to argue about the accurate assessment, Jonathon rubbed a hand over his face. “I don't want to hurt Fanny.”

“Then don't.”

“It's not that simple.”

“It should be.”

Too agitated to sit, Jonathon hopped to his feet and paced over to the bookshelf, ran his hand across several of the bindings. “My situation with Fanny isn't conventional.”

“Perhaps your engagement didn't start out like most, but that's not to say your marriage won't bring you both great joy. I've seen you two together. You're good for each other.”

Jonathon wasn't nearly as confident as his mentor. “You know where I come from,
who
I come from.”

For several long seconds, Marc eyed him in stone-cold silence. “The question isn't if I know who you are. It's whether or not you do.”