Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (20 page)

His arms tightened around her.

She pressed her advantage. “The only power your father holds over us is what we surrender to him. I beg you, do not let him win.”

Jonathon set her away from him. His throat working, he swallowed several times. “I have to go.”

“Will you at least think about what I said?” she asked again.

He tilted his head as if considering her words. “Yes.”

Striding away from her, he didn't speak again. A heartbeat later, the door shut behind him with a firm click.

Just like that, he was gone. With nothing between them solved.

Fanny's mouth trembled and she sobbed, just once.

“I love you,” she whispered to the empty room, wishing she'd had the courage to say the words to Jonathon's face.

Would it have made a difference?

She would never know.

Her husband must come around to her way of thinking on his own, or not at all, and certainly not because she'd manipulated him with tender words of love.

A wave of heat lifted up from her stomach, making her head spin. She had to reach out and steady herself on a nearby table, or else give in to the nausea that had plagued her on and off all week.

She and Jonathon were at an impasse, with each of them set on their own course for the future and no hope of changing the other's mind.

Could their marriage survive?

Could Fanny survive?

Jonathon's nearness, without his full commitment to their marriage, would tear her apart bit by bit. To see him, to speak to him, but never to be close to him again would prove torture.

And what would happen to him?

He would pull away from her and distance himself completely, first physically, then emotionally. Joshua Greene's legacy would live on in the worst possible way imaginable.

Fanny hurt for her husband.
Lord, what do I do?

She sank to her knees and did the only thing she could.

She prayed.

Chapter Twenty

J
onathon charged into his office and slammed the door behind him with a wood-splintering crack. He moved around his desk, his mind still upstairs with Fanny. If he were a less cynical man he would say his wife had looked at him moments ago with love in her eyes.

Maybe it was wrong, or even selfish of him to wish it were true, but if Fanny loved him, there must be more good in him than bad. More Marc Dupree than Joshua Greene.

Fanny had claimed his father had no bearing on who'd he become. Jonathon wanted to believe her. He wanted the promise of long, happy years as her husband. He wanted to love her with everything inside him, as a man loved his woman.

It was true, then. He loved Fanny. He loved his wife.

So many impulses flooded him. He wanted to rush back upstairs and profess his feelings.

He'd told her the truth just now. He desperately wanted to know the wonder of having a child with her, of staring into the face of a precious baby, equally comprised of them both. Which actually made his point for him.

Jonathon was the product of the people who'd made him, half his mother and half his father.

You are also the Lord's child
.

The thought swept through him with such strength he collapsed onto the chair behind his desk.

He wasn't an accident. He wasn't a mistake. He'd come to grips with that, in his heart and in his head. But he couldn't run from his past, couldn't deny that any child he created with Fanny would also be Joshua Greene's grandchild.

Fanny claimed his father could wield only the power they surrendered to him. Perhaps she was right.

Perhaps it was time for Jonathon to put the past behind him once and for all. He needed to speak with Greene, set a few things straight. He would do so now.

Just as he stood, a knock came at his door.

“Enter.”

His assistant quickly pushed into the room, a harried expression on his face. “An urgent telegram has arrived for you from San Francisco.”

Jonathon read the short missive, felt his stomach drop. A main water pipe had broken, flooding the entire first floor. “I'll need to leave at once.”

“I'll make the arrangements.” Burke paused at the door, tilted his head as if studying a difficult puzzle. “Will you be traveling alone, Mr. Hawkins, or will your wife be accompanying you on the journey to California?”

The question took him by surprise. Jonathon hadn't thought to have Fanny accompany him. Now that idea was in his head, he rolled it around. Once they took care of the problem at the hotel, he and Fanny could stay a few extra days in the city.

Jonathon could show his wife San Francisco, the city he'd found fascinating enough to build his fourth hotel there. He could take Fanny to all his favorite places. They could eat at five-star restaurants and walk hand in hand on the shores of the bay. He would fall in love with her all over again. When they retired for the evening, he wouldn't be able to keep his distance from the woman he loved with all his heart.

But the matter of children wasn't yet settled. There could be no more marital relations until final decisions were made.

Perhaps it was best to leave Fanny at home. Time away might actually help the situation.

“I will be traveling alone,” he told his assistant, who stood patiently waiting for his response.

“Very good, Mr. Hawkins.”

“Once you make the arrangements for my trip, alert Mrs. Singletary of the problem at the San Francisco Hotel Dupree.” The widow owned one-quarter of his hotel empire. This situation affected her as much as Jonathon.

“I'll head to her house this afternoon and give her the news myself.”

“I'm sure she'll appreciate that.” Jonathon didn't need to give further instructions to his assistant. Burke Galloway already knew what to do in his absence.

When he was alone once more, Jonathon gathered the necessary papers and other accoutrements he would need to conduct business in San Francisco for the next several weeks.

All that was left was to go upstairs and pack his clothes.

Fanny was just coming out of the washroom when he stepped inside their suite. She'd restyled her hair and her features looked clean and bright, as if she'd recently splashed water on her face.

Jonathon had always thought his wife beautiful, but right now she glowed. In the way spring chased away winter, she'd chased away his loneliness and had brought light into his life. He didn't want to lose her.

“Oh, Jonathon.” She ran to him and flung her arms around his waist. “I knew you'd come back.”

She sounded as if he'd been gone for months, when in reality it had been just shy of a half hour.

“There's a problem at the San Francisco Hotel Dupree.” He set her away from him and briefly explained the situation with the water pipe. “I have to leave town immediately.”

“Of course you do. Something this major requires your personal attention.”

She was so understanding, so calm, his love for her swelled in his chest. He wanted to hold her close, to make promises, to tell her that he could be the man she needed, and she could have the life she'd always dreamed of—with him. Only him.

But there was still too much uncertainty and darkness inside his bitter soul, none of which he could allow to spill onto her.

“Would you...” Studying the runner at her feet, she dug her toe into the swirling pattern. “Would you like me to help you pack?”

“No.” Emotion coiled in his muscles, tightened in his stomach. He speared a hand through his hair, shocked at the raw, shattered tone of his own voice.

Her head lifted, revealing the hurt in her eyes.

“Oh.” She looked away. “All right. I will leave you to it, then.”

She turned toward the door, but he caught her by the hand. “I don't need help packing, but I would very much like you to keep me company.”

Her smile came lightning fast. “I would like that, too.”

* * *

Fanny stood at the threshold of Jonathon's dressing room and silently watched him pack. His movements were stiff and impatient as he filled a medium-sized valise with various articles of clothing and personal items.

She knew he was still upset, but he'd erected a hard exterior to hide behind. The one he'd once worn as naturally as a medieval knight wore his suit of armor.

Was the cause of her husband's distance their conversation about children? Or was the problem with the San Francisco hotel the source?

Perhaps it was a little of both.

The thought of him leaving her with the tension still so strong between them was breaking her heart. She feared if he left Denver now, their marriage might never be able to recover.

Surely, he must be struggling with similar thoughts. And yet he hadn't asked her to join him on this trip. Fanny fought to remain outwardly calm, even as terror slid an icy chill down her spine.

“Why are you letting your father win?”

“I'm not leaving town because of my father. I told you why I have to go.”

Her heart began to thump fast and hard and her stomach twisted in another sickening knot of dread. She thought she might be ill, right here, in her husband's dressing room.

She pulled in several tight breaths until the terrible sensation passed.

“Take me with you.” She spoke so softly she wondered if he heard her.

Her doubts were dispelled when he looked up, his hand hovering over the contents of his luggage. “That wouldn't be wise.”

“Why not?”

With a quick sweep of his hand, he shut the valise. “We need this time apart.” Face expressionless, he secured the buckles. “To decide, individually, what we want from our marriage.”

How could they decide such a thing individually? Marriage was a partnership, with two people making decisions together.

He was leaving her. Nothing else explained his refusal to take her with him.

Something bleak and angry rose up from her soul. The depths of the emotion would shock everyone who knew her, perhaps even Jonathon himself. It certainly shocked her. Enough that she again thought she might be sick.

She swallowed back the nausea. “You mean
you
need time away from
me
to decide what you want for your future. I already know what I want. Take me with you.”

He moved past her and set the suitcase on the floor in the hallway. Then, eyes grim, he made the short trek back to where she stood. “There is only one thing that would induce me to ask you to join me.”

“Name it.”

“You come with me as my business associate, not my wife.”

Sucking in a shocked breath, Fanny reared back. “You can't mean—”

But he did. She saw it in his cold, distant expression.

Casting aside all pride, she lunged herself at her husband.

As if expecting the move, he caught her against his chest. Her pleasure at being near him trumped the terrible pain swirling in her stomach. She was all feeling at that moment, her emotions closer to the surface than she wished to show her husband.

Recklessly, she pressed her mouth to his. His hold tightened around her and he kissed her back.

I love you. I love you. I love you
. Her mind silently screamed the words in her head, over and over and over again. Then came the more desperate plea.
Don't leave me
.

Did she have the courage to make the humiliating request?

It was some time before Jonathon eventually set her away from him. Heavy emotion weighed heavy between them.

They both gasped for breath and stared at one another, wide-eyed.

Fanny's heart was full of love for her husband and she knew he loved her in return. She saw it in his tortured expression, in the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“Take me with you,” she repeated, “as your wife.”

“You know my terms.”

She couldn't go with him as only a business associate. But she feared if he went to San Francisco without her, he might never return. Not the man she married, at any rate. A stranger would appear in his place, and then nothing would ever be the same. “And you know mine.”

He nodded. “We'll talk more when I get back.” He brushed a brief kiss to her forehead. “I'll return as quickly as I can, I promise you that.”

She thought she might weep.

He picked up the valise and maneuvered around her. “I will send a telegraph alerting you to the date of my return.”

She made no sound, made no attempt to respond. She was too stunned that he would give up on her,
on them
, like this. She was cold to the bone. No amount of rubbing her arms warmed them.

Dimly, she heard Jonathon's footsteps move down the hallway, through the parlor, then into the foyer. The door opened and closed with a soft click. That was it.

Her husband was gone.

Only then, when she was completely alone, did Fanny acknowledge the nausea roiling in her stomach. She rushed into the washroom and gave in to the churning illness.

At least Jonathon wasn't here to see her brought low.

* * *

As the first week of Jonathon's absence turned into two, and he still didn't return or send a telegram, Fanny's sickness grew worse. She found herself wanting to sleep all the time. The sight of food made her ill. The only thing that seemed to settle her stomach was weak tea and a few bites of toast.

This is what grief feels like
, she thought, wishing Jonathon would come home soon. They couldn't heal their rift if he wasn't here.

In the meantime, she put on a brave face. It proved quite a feat to swallow her nausea this morning, but Fanny eventually managed to get herself dressed for the day. She made it down to her office, and even managed to get some work done.

Not more than an hour into reviewing next month's employee schedules, she found the names and numbers beginning to blur. Though it was barely past ten o'clock, Fanny decided she needed to retreat to her room for a quick lie down.

She'd barely set down her quill when Callie poked her head into the office. “I've come to unchain you from your desk.”

Fanny sat back in her chair and studied her sister. “You have remarkable timing. I was just contemplating the wisdom of a short break.”

“Then I'm not disturbing you.”

“Not at all.” She stood, but moved too fast and nearly lost her balance. Leaning on her desk, she calmed her spinning head with a few deep breaths.

She forced a smile for her sister.

Smiling back, Callie glided into the room, her tiny, slightly rounded belly tenting her dress in a most becoming way. She was nearly six months along, but didn't look more than three.

“You are looking quite well,” Fanny told her sister, dropping her gaze over Callie's emerald-green dress with the pretty ivory trim.

“Oh, Fanny, I am feeling very well, indeed, especially now that the horrible morning sickness is behind me.” She made a face that reminded Fanny of the time when they were children and she'd dared Callie to eat an entire lemon.

“Was it really so terrible, those first few months?” Fanny would give anything to experience morning sickness, knowing it heralded the reward of giving birth to Jonathon's child.

“Horrible doesn't begin to describe it. For months I could keep nothing down but weak tea and toast. But now...” She twirled in a happy, laughing circle, her joy as rich as if she'd just been freed from a prison. “I have more energy than ever before and the terrible bouts of dizziness are completely gone.”

Fanny's mind latched on to several words, her heart filling with the ache of desperate fear. Weak tea and toast? Lack of energy? Dizziness?

Her hand flew to her stomach. Could she be...was it even possible...

Of course it was possible.

Fear, hope, anger, joy, too many emotions to count tumbled through her. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to give in to every emotion all at once, and then start over again.