Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (14 page)

He set her hand on his heart, a gesture she was coming to think of as his silent pledge of devotion. “You make me want to be a better man.”

“I like you just the way you are.”

Slowly, he released her hand. “People are staring.”

“Are they?”

“Shall we give them something to talk about?”

She laughed. This was not the way she'd planned to prove their engagement was real, and yet it was the most perfect moment of the night. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing too terribly shameless.”

By the look in his eyes, she expected him to do something sweet. He did not disappoint. He kissed her hand again, this time lingering a moment beyond polite.

If only this
was
real
, she thought. The familiar ache clutching at her throat was immediately followed by a jolt of rebellion.

Why can't it be real?
If only for tonight?

Why not revel in the joy of knowing this man would soon be her husband? Decision made, she smiled up at him and let her feelings show in her eyes.

Mrs. Singletary chose that moment to insinuate herself into their private moment. “Our guests of honor have arrived at last.”

The announcement was all it took to send the rest of the room into a flurry of activity. One minute, people were staring at them, watching them enjoy one another. The next, Fanny and Jonathon were surrounded by family and friends.

Everyone talked at once, creating a cacophony of congratulations and thoughtful well-wishes.

Almost immediately, Fanny lost track of Jonathon.

She circled her gaze around the room, found him conversing with Callie, Reese and Reese's father at a spot near the fireplace.

Jonathon's father had moved away from Fanny's parents and now held court on the opposite end of the room with one of Denver's most prominent couples, Alexander and Polly Ferguson.

Their daughters Penelope and Phoebe completed the group. It seemed fitting somehow that the women who'd started the gossip that had led to tonight's celebration would be in attendance.

They wore matching dresses in blue, with silver trim. One of them—did it matter which?—turned her big blue eyes toward Fanny and smiled at her as if they were dear, dear friends.

Fanny pointedly looked away.

Jonathon caught her eye and motioned her over. She moved in his direction, but then found herself being pulled into a pair of willowy, female arms. “Congratulations, my dear.”

Another tight squeeze and then Laney Dupree stepped back to smile into Fanny's eyes. “You and Johnny make a wonderful couple.”

Dressed in a pretty bronze-and-gold dress that complemented her mahogany hair, the woman who'd started Charity House looked serene, elegant and incredibly beautiful. “I can't think of anyone I'd rather Johnny marry than you.”

Fanny's heart fluttered with pure happiness. She liked this woman and knew how important she was to Jonathon. “That's so very kind of you to say.”

“Not kindness, truth. You make him happy, Fanny. I can't tell you how much relief that brings me.”

Overcome with too many emotions to sort through at once, Fanny reached up and wiped at her eyes. “He makes me happy, too, more than I can put into words.”

“I'm glad.” Laney hugged her a second time.

The moment she let go, her husband swooped in for his turn. His embrace was briefer than his wife's, but no less special. Marc Dupree had been more of a father to Jonathon than Judge Greene had. For that reason alone, Fanny adored the man.

Dark-haired, clean-shaven, he wore a red brocade vest and matching tie made of the finest material available, the kind a successful banker might choose for his clothing.

“As my wife so eloquently said, we couldn't be happier with Johnny's choice of brides. Welcome to the family, Fanny.”

“Thank you,” she choked out, pleased for Jonathon that these two considered him one of their own.

Though Fanny didn't know all the particulars, she knew that Marc had been a strong influence in her fiancé's life.

“I believe you'll make Johnny a fine wife,” Marc added with a smile. “A very fine wife, indeed.”

“Far better than I deserve.” The familiar voice came from behind her. Before Fanny could look over her shoulder, Jonathon's arm came around her waist, securing her to his side.

Tucked in close, she swiveled her gaze up to his.

For reasons she didn't want to explore too deeply, Fanny could do nothing but stare in muted wonder at the expression in his eyes. The warmth looked real, not pretend real, but
real
.

Her stomach rolled. Her throat burned. Her heart pounded. And still she continued staring up at Jonathon. Even when he turned his attention to Marc and Laney, Fanny continued watching him. She adored his profile.

So strong.

So handsome.

She should not be this aware of her fiancé, not if she wanted to survive their marriage in name only.

Perhaps, she could convince Jonathon to change his mind on the matter.

But how?

The answer came to her again.

Love him
.

Could it be that simple? Yes.
Her
love would conquer
his
doubts.

All she needed to do was trust God to heal Jonathon's heart. Enough to give him the courage to take a leap of faith, to trust that he could break free of his past.

If in the process Jonathon chose to make Fanny truly his wife, well, she would know that it all started here, now. With love.

Her love.

Chapter Fourteen

E
ven as Jonathon carried on a conversation with Marc and Laney—something to do with the renovations under way at Charity House—he was highly attuned to the woman next to him. He kept his arm wrapped around her waist, at one point pulling Fanny closer.

She didn't protest.

In fact, she settled against him as if she was determined to stay by his side the rest of the night. He felt Fanny's eyes on him, felt the warmth of her smile wash over him.

He tried not to betray his pleasure. Nonetheless, his lips lifted in secret satisfaction. Tonight was a glimpse into what his future would be like with Fanny as his wife.

Jonathon liked what lay ahead.

The evening was turning out to be surprisingly enjoyable, partly because he hadn't spoken to Judge Greene once all night, but also because of Fanny herself. He liked her, admired her, valued nearly everything about her.

An absurd notion encroached on his thoughts, one he couldn't seem to ignore no matter how hard he focused on the conversation with his friends. Jonathon's entire life, every mistake, every wrong turn, every good and wise decision, had led him to this one woman. Fanny Mitchell was his destiny, his future.

It felt as natural as breathing to pretend he had deep feelings for her. Probably, he realized, because he actually had deep feelings for Fanny.

This is going to be a problem
.

He was a man, after all, and Fanny was a beautiful, mesmerizing woman. Soon, they would be married in the eyes of God. How was Jonathon supposed to spend a lifetime with Fanny without making her his wife the way the Lord intended?

You are not a mistake
, Fanny had once said to him.

If Jonathon wasn't a mistake, if the Bible verse from Jeremiah was accurate, and the Lord had known him before he was formed in his mother's womb, then perhaps he
could
break free of his past. Perhaps future generations wouldn't suffer because of who Jonathon was and where he came from.

The thought barely had a chance to slide through his mind when the conversation shifted to the newest arrivals at Charity House, two brothers and a sister.

Not long after that, Fanny's parents joined their group and the discussion turned once again, this time to the exciting topic of the weather. Seizing the opportunity to move on, Jonathon pulled his fiancée away with the excuse of needing a moment alone with her.

It was true. He wanted to be alone with Fanny, if only for a few minutes.

“Jonathon,” she said, laughing as she broke into a trot to keep up with his long strides. “Where are we going in such a rush?”

“Somewhere private.” He slowed his pace to match hers, then leaned down so only she heard his words. “You have a problem with that?”

“Not at all.” She laughed again. “It sounds quite promising.”

“I like that you think so.”

Her eyes sparkled with delight. “Well, then, take me away. I'm all yours, Mr. Hawkins.”

She was wrong, of course. She would never be completely his, not really, not unless he reconsidered the parameters of their marriage.

Did he dare take the risk?

It was something he needed to ponder seriously before their wedding night.

Hand clasped with Fanny's, he drew her into the darkened hallway. They'd taken several steps when a masculine voice spoke his name.

Jonathon's footsteps came to an abrupt halt and a deep unease sliced through him. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know it was Joshua Greene who spoke his name.

“You cannot avoid me all evening,” the man added.

At the familiar sound of icy disapproval, knots formed at the back of Jonathon's neck. He was transported to another time, to the night he'd first confronted his father. Jonathon had laid his heart bare in the hope of saving his mother's life. He'd actually
begged
for Greene's help.

Jonathon attempted to release Fanny's hand. With a little hum of rebellion, she held on tight. Together they faced his father. Jonathon eyed the older man without an ounce of emotion in his heart.

Dressed in a hand-tailored suit, Joshua Greene looked every bit the distinguished Denver citizen most of the world thought him to be. The disguise was so well done that Jonathon nearly believed the pretense himself.

“Must we do this out here?” His posture stiff, his arrogance evident in every inch of his pinched face, Greene looked around them in disapproval. “I dislike lurking in darkened hallways.”

“Then I shall make a habit of lurking in darkened hallways.”

“There's no need to be snide, son.”

Son
. For half his life, Jonathon had waited to hear that word come out of this man's mouth. He'd spent the other half forging his place in the world on his own terms.

He'd endured loss and suffering, had survived poverty and the humiliation of illegitimacy. He no longer needed, or wanted, this man's acknowledgment. Not now. Not ever.

Aware that Fanny still held tightly to his hand, all but vibrating with suppressed emotion, Jonathon kept his response curt. “We already had this conversation in my office last week. We have nothing more to say to one another.”

“Now see, that's where you're wrong.” Something calculated flashed in Greene's eyes. “While I confess I have not handled matters well in the past, you must admit that I have recently shown my willingness to mend our relationship—”

“We have no relationship.”

“An oversight I wish to rectify. I am fully prepared to accept my duty as your father.”

Jonathon leaned forward and addressed the real reason for the judge's sudden interest in
duty
. “We both know this is about your run for the Senate. How do you think the truth of what you did to my mother will go over with the voters?”

With a snort and a flick of his wrist, Greene dismissed the question. “They will sympathize with my decisions, once they hear my side of the story.”

“What will they think when they hear mine?”

The question seemed to give the man pause, but only briefly. “Who will they believe?” he asked. “Me, a law-abiding, God-fearing member of the judicial community? Or you, a former pickpocket and by-blow of a prostitute?”

Jonathon stood very still, in full control of every inch of his body, knowing the importance of revealing not one ounce of weakness to this man. “Tell your story to the world. But be prepared for me to tell mine.”

“Very well.” Greene spun around and moved toward the doorway of the blue parlor with quick, clipped strides. “There is no time like the present.”

A bolt of alarm shot through Jonathon. “Do not do this here. Not tonight.”
Not in front of Fanny
.

Greene ignored the request. “May I have everyone's attention?” Playing to his audience as if he were a seasoned stage actor, he swept his hands in a wide, dramatic arc. “I have a very important announcement to make.”

Conversations came to a stuttering halt and a roomful of curious stares turned in their direction.

Time seemed to shift, transporting Jonathon back to his childhood, to the boy who'd shivered and quaked in back alleys, who'd witnessed his mother's fall into despair, then illness, then ultimately death.

Anger and hurt, regret and desperation, so many ugly emotions warred within him. For a dangerous moment, those memories paralyzed him.

“Jonathon.” He felt more than heard Fanny's voice, but he couldn't respond. His gaze was riveted on Judge Greene.

The man shot a benevolent smile over the crowd. “It is my honor to announce to everyone present that...” he paused for dramatic effect “...Jonathon Hawkins is my—”

“No!”
Fanny rushed in front of the judge, her swift, unexpected move rendering him momentarily speechless. “Judge Greene is only offering up a joke no one will find funny. Carry on with your conversations.”

She glanced briefly at Jonathon. A tactical error.

With the swift, deadly movements of a jungle cat, Greene regained the room's attention.

“I wish to announce that Jonathon Hawkins is my son.”

A blast of murmurs and gasps followed the statement, then came a highly palpable lurch of silence.

“I only recently discovered my connection to this successful man, whose rags-to-riches story I greatly admire. His mother, I'm afraid, kept his existence from me a secret.”

And so began a bevy of lies as the esteemed judge wove his fictional tale of the past.

This
was Jonathon's legacy, he realized, as his father blatantly revised history. Lies, half truths, rationalizations when they suited the moment. Jonathon himself had used similar methods in the past, at first to survive, then in a desperate attempt to run from his past, to separate himself from this man.

He'd come full circle. There was no more escaping the truth. He was this despicable man's son down to the bone.

Perhaps it was for the best that everyone knew.

But what of Fanny? How would this affect her? Icy numbness crept into Jonathon's veins. He could still protect her from suffering the repercussions of the judge's announcement.

He pulled her close, spoke words in her ear no one else could hear. “You may break our engagement, if you wish. I will not hold it against you.”

“I will
not
abandon you,” she said in a low, ferocious tone. “As you have stood by me, so I shall stand by you.”

Her conviction was a golden, glimmering keepsake. “Fanny—”

“Jonathon. My loyalty is nothing if not total.”

Greene smiled over at him. “I am unspeakably proud to publicly ally myself with this man, my son.”

The easy charm was to be expected, of course. Joshua Greene was a natural politician. He knew how to impress an audience.

However, he'd misread the room.

The horrified silence coming from the wide-eyed guests wasn't directed at Jonathon, but at Greene.

Fanny tightened her grip on Jonathon's hand.

He glanced down at her, an apology on his tongue, but she wasn't looking at him. She was glaring at his father.

Before Jonathon knew what she was about, she suddenly yanked her hand free and marched over to Judge Greene.

“Quiet,” she snapped, fists jammed on her hips.

Greene blinked in mute astonishment.

“Judge Greene is shamelessly retelling the past. Do not be fooled. He has known about Jonathon since the day he was born.”

Laney confirmed this to be true, as did Marc.

The expected outrage on Jonathon's behalf erupted like a spark to dynamite.

Greene attempted to explain himself, using phrases such as
youthful indiscretion
and
deep regret
and
mistakes that can still be corrected
. Once again, he miscalculated his audience.

The more he tried to rationalize away his behavior, the angrier the crowd grew. Jonathon half expected pitchforks and torches to materialize inside clenched fists.

Mrs. Singletary ended the spectacle by stepping firmly into the fray. “Enough.”

In her no-nonsense tone, she asked the judge to leave her home at once.

Smart enough to recognize the need for retreat, he did as she requested. Before exiting the room, however, he stopped beside Fanny. “I find your interference in this matter most distressing.”

She gave him her sweetest smile. “I cannot tell you how much it pleases me to hear that.”

Greene left in a huff.

In the silence that followed his father's departure, Jonathon ran a hand across his brow, left it there for several seconds. Saying nothing, Fanny simply touched his arm. Her silent show of support was exactly what he needed.

He momentarily closed his hand over hers. “Thank you.”

To his surprise, the party guests made the pilgrimage to where they stood. One by one, they expressed their support and their hope that his marriage to Fanny would erase the pain of his past. Even the Ferguson sisters had kind words for him.

Jonathon did not doubt their sincerity or that of the others. Yet his father's words continued echoing in his mind.
Jonathon Hawkins is my son.

No matter how much he tried to distance himself from the man, one truth remained. Jonathon would be forever connected to Joshua Greene by blood.

Depressing thought.

The room eventually emptied out, leaving only Fanny's parents and the Duprees.

“It's going to be all right, Johnny.” Laney made the promise in much the same voice she'd used when he was a boy. “In time, everyone will know the truth. They will have every reason to side with you.”

There was no way of knowing how the rest of Denver would take Greene's announcement. Unlike the people here tonight, mostly family and friends, many in town would believe the judge's version.
His word against mine
.

“Jonathon.” Mrs. Mitchell gripped his forearm.

Fearing how the drama of the evening might have affected her, he swiveled his gaze to hers. Her brow was creased in concern, but her breathing appeared normal.

“Take heart,” she said. “You are not alone in this.”

“That's right, my boy.” Cyrus Mitchell clapped him on the back. “By marrying Fanny, you inherit the entire brood. That's a total of nine Mitchells, their assorted spouses and various herds of children, all for the price of one slip of a girl.”

He winked at his daughter.

The comment had the intended effect. Jonathon laughed.

He appreciated knowing that these good, solid people considered him part of their family. But right now all he wanted was to be alone with Fanny.

He endured another ten minutes, then made his and Fanny's excuses.

“We have an early morning” was all he said. It was enough. Not a single argument prevented their departure. Minutes later, and with great relief, he climbed inside the hired coach with Fanny and closed the door behind them.