Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (9 page)

“As reasonable as the situation warranted.”

She opened her mouth to ask him to clarify. At the same moment Mrs. Singletary hurried over to them, her skirts making a soft whooshing sound as she came to an abrupt halt. “I officially declare the evening a success.”

Fanny nearly choked on her own breath.

Jonathon gave the widow a sardonic smirk. “I believe your definition of success, Mrs. Singletary, is at odds with mine.”

“Now, Mr. Hawkins, there's no need to be distressed over tonight's doings. You simply need to reframe the evening's events from the proper perspective.”

“And what perspective would you suggest?”

“The positive one, of course.” She tapped him on the arm, as if scolding him for asking such a ridiculous question. “Not only did we raise a considerable amount of money for a very worthy cause, but tonight's ball will be remembered for a good long time to come.”

“This is a true statement.” Jonathon shot Fanny an apologetic grimace. “But for all the wrong reasons.”

“On the contrary.” The widow blessed them both with a self-satisfied smile. “The Lord has once again used me as His vessel to bring together two worthy people. My reputation as a successful matchmaker has been confirmed once again.”

The woman certainly had nerve, Fanny thought, unable to hold silent any longer. “Mrs. Singletary, you cannot seriously think to take credit for...for our...our...”

She didn't quite know how to put the events of the evening into words.

“But of course I can take credit.” The widow twirled her hand in the air. “You and Mr. Hawkins are well suited, and, I dare say, perfect for one another. I knew it all along.”

Fanny shared a baffled look with Jonathon. “Might I remind you,” she said, “that just three days ago you attempted to match Jonathon with your companion, Philomena.”

The widow lifted a silk clad shoulder. “All part of the bigger plan, my dear. I am very good, am I not?”

“
Good
is not the first word that comes immediately to mind,” Jonathon muttered.

She laughed, clearly delighted by his grumbled remark. “I believe, Mr. Hawkins, you have something important to ask Miss Mitchell. I shall leave you to it.”

In a whirl of skirts, the widow exited the ballroom.

Fanny gaped after her. Surely she didn't mean what Fanny thought she meant.

Shaking his head, Jonathon pulled out his watch from his vest pocket and frowned. “It's later than I realized. The sun will be up soon.”

“Very soon,” Fanny agreed, glancing outside the wall of windows. The gray light of dawn had replaced the deep purple of night. Heavy mist rolled in off the mountains, slinking across the terrace floor.

“Come with me.” Jonathon took her hand and towed her to the west corner of the room, where no one could see them. They might as well be completely alone. That wasn't what bothered her, though. He was entirely too serious for her peace of mind.

“Take a seat.”

She reluctantly lowered herself onto the padded, straight-back chair nearest the terrace doors.

Fearful of what was about to come, she kept her gaze averted. She smoothed out her skirts with surprisingly shaky fingers.

“Fanny.” He said her name in a whisper, the word a sweet caress. “You have no cause for nerves around me.”

“I...I know.” She balled her hands into fists to still their trembling. This man was so familiar, and yet a complete stranger in so many ways.

He sat beside her. “We are in this together, you and I, and will face the future
together
.”

Not daring to look him in the eyes, Fanny kept her gaze trained on the toes of her slippers. She didn't like where this was going, not one bit.

Jonathon closed his hand over hers. “There is only one option at our disposal.”

Her heart dipped at the gravity in his tone.
When she looked up, she went hot all over. “No, Jonathon, don't say anything else. Please,” she pleaded. “Not another word.”

He stood, then dropped to one knee.

“Fanny Mitchell. Will you...” His shoulders shifted, flexed, then went perfectly still. “Will you marry me?”

Chapter Nine

J
onathon's pulse roared in his ears. He told himself to remain coolheaded, as he would in the middle of any business transaction. Except this wasn't a business transaction. He'd just asked Fanny to marry him and she had yet to respond.

She simply stared at him in utter stillness, her hands balled into fists atop her lap.

The endless moment stretched into two. He ticked off the seconds in his head, willed her to give him an answer. Any response would do:
yes, no, could you repeat the question?

She said nothing. She did, however, lower her head. The gesture caused a loose strand of hair to fall across her cheek. Absently, he reached up and tucked it behind her ear.

From his position on the floor, Jonathon had only a partial view of her face. He dipped his head for a better angle, immediately regretted the move. Her lovely features projected a loneliness and vulnerability he recognized. At the moment, the same emotions waged a war within his own soul.

In the halting silence that stretched from one minute into two, he thought about the feel of her in his arms, not only when they'd been out on the dance floor but again on the terrace. He thought about their kiss, and the way she'd fitted perfectly in his arms, about what his life might be like with her as his wife.

Jonathon wasn't much of a dreamer. But right now, he let himself consider the impossible. Things he'd stopped believing in when he was still a boy. Things such as stability, a house of his own, someone to come home to every night. He could have all of that with Fanny, but only if she agreed to marry him.

“Fanny.” He rested his palms on her knees, compelled her to look at him. “Will you marry me?” he asked again.

She lifted her head and considered him in the gray light of dawn. He worked at not reacting under her careful scrutiny.

Looking incredibly sad—an ominous sign of things to come—she scooted to her left and patted the chair beside her, a wordless invitation for him to join her.

He remained on bended knee, continued staring into her troubled eyes, waiting, watching, longing for a dream he'd relinquished years ago.

Her eyelashes fluttered and finally,
finall
y, she spoke. “We both know you don't really want to marry me.”

The words were wrapped inside a rough whisper. The tortured sound reminded him of sandpaper rubbing against splinters.

“Of course I want to marry you,” he said, praying he sounded as sincere as he felt. “I wouldn't have asked otherwise.”

Sorrow filled her face. And then—
Dear Lord, please, no
—tears gathered in her eyes. He climbed to his feet, drew her into his arms. “Don't cry. Fanny, please don't cry.”

She stood stiffly in his embrace, her entire body taut with tension. He pressed her head gently to his shoulder and simply held her to him for several heartbeats.

Setting her away from him a moment later, he touched her cheek, wiped away the dampness with the pad of his thumb. “We can make a go of this, I know we can. I like you, and I believe you like me. We've conquered half the battle already.”

She snuffled, swiped at her eyes, spoke again in that stark, hollow tone. “Marriage requires more than two people liking one another.”

Considering her family dynamics, she would know better than he. After all, her parents had been happily married for over thirty years.

He switched tactics. “Let me protect you from ruin. Let me give you my name and shut down the gossip concerning your character.”

“Oh, Jonathon.” The sadness dug deeper in her gaze, sounded heavier in her voice. “I appreciate what you're trying to do. It's very noble of you to make me an offer of marriage. But you know as well as I that we will never work as a couple, not in the long run. We want different things.”

Helpless in the face of her logic, he felt everything in him ache. He actually hurt from the inside out. “We may be able to come to a compromise that will satisfy us both.”

She seemed to consider his suggestion. “What sort of marriage do you see us having? Be honest.”

His first instinct was to tell her what she wanted to hear. But that wouldn't be fair to either of them. “We would have a marriage built on friendship, mutual admiration, loyalty and, of course, trust.”

“You mean a marriage in name only.”

“That's right.”

He gave her a moment to process the meaning behind his words. Apparently, she needed more than one.

She simply gaped at him in stone cold silence.

“A marriage in name only.” Utter disappointment threaded through her voice. “That is what you are proposing?”

He nodded, the muscles in his neck tensing. He knew what she was thinking. Yet she was forgetting an important factor. Him. Who his father was, the corrupted blood they shared. “I will not risk fathering a child.”

She held his gaze for three endless seconds. Then slowly, carefully, she raised her chin a fraction higher. “Will you tell me why?”

“The men who share my blood have a history of hurting women. My father is especially guilty of this.”

“That's not to say you will follow in his footsteps.”

He shook his head at her innocence. “My half brother already has.”

“You're not like either man. You are you, Jonathon.”

“Precisely.” She'd just made his argument for him. “I'm a prime example that mistakes happen.”

Color drained from her face. “You are
not
a mistake,” she all but growled at him. “You are a precious child of God. The Lord knew you before you were born. He knit you together in your mother's womb. Never believe otherwise, never.”

He started to respond, but she wasn't finished making her point.

“Don't take my word for it, search Scripture yourself. Start at Psalm 139 and then move on to the first chapter of Jeremiah.”

Jonathon blinked, not sure what to say to the fierce woman standing before him. Normally, he appreciated her keeping her opinions about God to herself. But for reasons Jonathon couldn't explain, her unshakable belief that he was something more than what he himself saw, spread warmth to the darkest places of his heart.

Cradling her face in his hands, he pressed their foreheads together and simply held on.

“You are a good man, Jonathon Hawkins.” Her words grabbed something inside his chest and squeezed. “Don't ever let anyone make you believe otherwise, especially not that horrid man who fathered you.”

Her words made Jonathon feel strong, keen on conquering the world and slaying her dragons with his bare hands.

Shrugging away the fanciful thought, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and rolled back on his heels. “We're not going to talk about me. You are my primary focus. I don't want to see you hurt, Fanny. Not when I have the power to prevent you from enduring another scandal.”

“I'm afraid it's already done.” She still sounded sad, as if she wanted something that could never be fully realized.

He knew the feeling.

That didn't mean he wasn't willing to try to make a marriage between them a success. “You haven't answered my question. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Her eyes filled with tears once again.

He brushed them aside with his fingertips. The gesture seemed to make her even sadder.

“I cannot accept the type of union you are offering.” She rose onto her toes and planted a tender kiss to his cheek. “No, Jonathon, I will not marry you.”

Although he wasn't surprised by her answer, his heart took a hit. A part of him actually wanted her to say yes. Not for propriety's sake, not to silence gossip, but simply because he wanted her in his life, wanted to face the future with her by his side.

This isn't about you
, he reminded himself. If Fanny wouldn't accept his marriage proposal, then he would give her another option. “Then I'd like you to run my San Francisco hotel.”

“You want me to...you wish to send me away?”

“No, I am offering you a job, a chance to start over in a new city, where no one knows you or has knowledge of your past.”

She gathered in a sharp breath of air. “The San Francisco Hotel Dupree is still under construction.”

“You would oversee the final building phase, and then take over operations once the hotel is up and running.” He waited for his words to sink in, for her to understand what he was suggesting. “You would be the first female manager in the company.”

“I'm flattered.” She didn't sound flattered. She sounded insulted.

Somehow, he'd insulted her. That hadn't been his goal.

“It's a very generous offer. But one I can't accept.”

“Why not?”

“If I run away again, I may never stop running. I must stand and face the consequences of my actions. Besides—” she gave a shrug “—a little gossip never killed anyone.”

“Fanny, it's not
a little gossip
. Your very reputation is in question. Because of me, because of what I—”

“No, Jonathon. No more assigning blame, on either of our parts.”

“If you will not go to San Francisco, then only one solution remains. Marry me, Fanny. It's the only way.”

“I can't. Please don't ask me again.” Choking on a gasp, she spun around and bolted from the room.

He called after her.

She didn't pause, didn't glance over her shoulder, didn't acknowledge him in any way.

With clipped strides, he set out after her, then stopped when she picked up her pace and disappeared around the corner.

Perhaps he should leave her alone with her thoughts for a while. She needed time to think, to process the situation before he proposed again. And, yes, despite her request, he would propose again, as many times as it took to convince her marrying him was the only way to save her reputation.

Still blinking after her, he caught the sound of masculine footsteps approaching from behind.

Instinct had his hands closing into fists. Forcing his fingers to relax, Jonathon exhaled slowly, turned and saw Hunter Mitchell.

Standing in the shadows of the empty ballroom, Fanny's brother looked as formidable as Jonathon had ever seen him. A very large, very lethal outlaw.

Jonathon remained unmoved. “I'm not in the mood for another lecture from one of Fanny's brothers.”

“Good to know, since that's not why I'm here.” Hunter shifted his stance. “I have a few things I'd like to say to you without my brothers or my father interrupting.”

“All right.”

“Not here, not where we can be overheard. Let's go outside.” He cocked his head toward the hotel's exit.

Jonathon eyed the other man, considered, then decided what could it hurt to hear him out? “Follow me.”

They left through the terrace doors and fell into step with one another. Neither spoke as they worked their way through the shadows of the back alley.

The air was cool at this early hour, the streets all but empty of activity when they strode onto the main street beside the hotel.

Hunter broke his silence halfway down the block. “I can't understand why Fanny refused your marriage proposal.”

Frustration washed over Jonathon. “How much of our conversation did you overhear?”

“Enough to know that Fanny turned you down.”

Jonathon stopped walking, waited for Hunter to do the same. “I can't tolerate the thought of your sister weathering this scandal on her own.”

“Nor can I.” Hunter ran a hand over his face, the scratch of stubble rough against his palm. “The gossips will be harder on her than they will be on you. I don't think she understands what awaits her if she chooses to stay in town without the protection of your name.”

“We live in an unfair world.”

Hunter's mouth thinned to a line sharp as a blade. “My sister will be ostracized, denied access to most of the businesses in town. She'll be alone in this world but for our family.”

“She'll also have me,” Jonathon said. “I will not abandon her, I promise you that.”

The other man acknowledged this with a solemn nod. “I know what it feels like to be shunned in this town.”

So did Jonathon.

Throat tight, he glanced at the millinery shop on his left, one of the establishments that Fanny would be prevented from entering if she didn't accept his proposal. “I don't want her to suffer the humiliation of exclusion and unjust banishment.”

“Nor do I.”

“The only answer is marriage.”

Hunter nodded. “We are full in agreement.”

“Any ideas how I can convince Fanny to accept my proposal?”

“Just one.” Hunter flashed a grin, his teeth a white slash against his tan face. “Woo her.”

* * *

Fanny tossed and turned, and eventually gave up any thought of sleeping after an hour of trying. She had work to do, anyway. There were countless tasks that needed her attention. She welcomed the distraction from her thoughts, from the fact that Jonathon had asked her to marry him, and she'd said no.

Of course she'd said no.

The seemingly obvious solution to their problem—
marriage
—was no solution at all. She and Jonathon didn't want the same things out of life.

Regardless of his proposal, he didn't want to be married.

Fanny did.

He didn't want children.

She did.

The biggest tragedy was that she knew—
she knew!
—she would be good for him, and he for her. But without a true marriage, they would never build a lasting connection, one that would help them navigate the ups and downs of life.

Such a shame, really.

Frowning, she flopped onto her back, then kicked off the covers with a jerk of her foot.

Tears of misery formed in her eyes. She refused to give in to them. She must remember that Jonathon had made no declarations. He'd given no promises. He wanted to marry her only to protect her from scandal.