Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (6 page)

Emotion flashed in her eyes as she spoke. For a moment, she seemed very far away and very, very sad. As Jonathon watched Fanny, while she watched her siblings, a pang of remorse shot through him.

Was he making the correct decision about marriage? With the right woman, perhaps he
could
be a good husband. Perhaps, unlike his father and half brother, he wouldn't let down his wife. Perhaps the risk was worth the reward.

Another louder, shriller giggle rent the air.

“Poor Philomena,” Fanny said, shaking her head. “To have such sisters.”

Jonathon opened his mouth to agree when an older couple twirled past them. He studied the pair, the woman in particular. Fanny's resemblance to her mother was uncanny. They had the same tilt to their beautiful eyes, the same classic features, the same regal bearing.

“Your mother is quite lovely.”

Fanny's eyes grew misty. “I'm so relieved to see her breathing easily.”

He reached down to take Fanny's hand, and laced their fingers together. The connection was light, and was meant to offer her comfort. Yet it was Jonathon who experienced a moment of peace, of rightness.

This woman meant much to him, too much. He never wanted to lose her.

However, lose her he would.

Maybe not tomorrow, or next week, but one day, when some wise man offered her marriage, for all the right reasons.

As much as it would pain Jonathon to watch her fall in love with another man, he wouldn't stand in her way. Thankfully, the prospect of her leaving him—or rather, the hotel—was a problem for another day.

Tonight, Fanny was all his.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

She returned the gesture, then angled her head to peer into his eyes. A small, secretive smile slid along her lips. His throat seized on a breath. Fanny Mitchell was the most beautiful woman he'd ever known.

For the rest of the evening, he promised himself, he would avoid thinking of the future, forget memories of the past. All that mattered was this moment. This night.

This woman.

“Fanny, would you do me the honor of—”

Her sharp intake of air cut off the rest of his request.

He attempted to search her gaze for the cause of her distress, but she was no longer looking at him, rather at a spot just over his right shoulder.

A cold, deadening sensation filled his lungs.

Jonathon knew who stood behind him.

His father. He felt the man's presence in his gut, in the kick of antagonism that hit Jonathon square in the heart.

His grip on Fanny's hand tightened. He was probably squeezing a bit too hard. He couldn't help himself. She was his only lifeline in a sea of uncertain emotion.

Let her go
, he told himself. Let. Her. Go.

He couldn't make his fingers cooperate, couldn't seem to distance himself from her.

Let her go
.

Fanny was the one who pulled her hand free. The absence of their physical connection was like a punch, the pain that sharp and unexpected.

Instead of stepping away, she moved closer and secured her fingers around his arm. Her eyes filled with understanding and something even more disturbing. Sympathy.

He didn't want her sympathy.
Anything but that
.

He began to step away from her, to distance himself from what he saw in her eyes. She tightened her grip and smiled sweetly. “You know, Jonathon, it's long past time we took a turn around the dance floor.”

Her voice came at him as if from a great distance, sounding tinny in his ears, waking a favorite memory he'd tucked deep in the back of his mind. Another evening. Another one of Mrs. Singletary's charity balls.

Fanny had stood at the edge of a similar dance floor, on the very night of her return from Chicago. Gossip had erupted the moment she'd stepped into the room. Speculation about her reasons for leaving town had been voiced in barely concealed whispers.

She'd held firm under the censure, alone, her posture unmoving, chin lifted in defiance, as courageous as a warrior. She'd been magnificent. Beautiful. Yet Jonathon had seen past the false bravado. He'd seen the nerves and vulnerability living beneath the calm facade.

He'd asked her to dance.

Later, when the waltz had come to an end, she'd thanked him for rescuing her from an uncomfortable moment.

Now
she
was rescuing
him
.

It seemed somehow fitting.

“I'd like nothing more than to dance with you, Fanny.”

Taking charge of the moment, he directed her onto the floor and then pulled her into his arms.

Chapter Six

A
lthough Fanny had initially suggested she and Jonathon join the flurry of dancers, she was pleased he'd taken the lead and guided her into the waltz. His father's hold on him was lessening, or so she hoped.

With the music vibrant around them, she settled into his embrace. They fitted well together, their feet gliding across the parquet floor in seamless harmony.

She'd known a moment of terrible distress when Judge Greene entered the ballroom. She'd recovered quickly, and had immediately taken charge of the situation.

Fanny was good at anticipating problems at the hotel, even better at dealing with situations before they became, well...problems. It was one of the reasons Jonathon valued her, why he kept giving her more and more responsibility.

Tonight, she'd been happy to put her skills to use for his sake.

Step by step, spin by spin, she could feel the tension draining out of him.

Beneath the flickering light of the chandelier, and the glow of a thousand candles, his features gradually lost their dark, turbulent edge. Jonathon was a man with many secrets and hidden pain harvested from a past no child should have to have suffered.

His present was proving no less harrowing, all because his father wished to acknowledge him publically. Not out of remorse for years lost, or guilt, or even sorrow for the harm he'd caused his son, but because Jonathon was a success now. His rags-to-riches story was legendary in Denver, almost mythical, and thus he was now worthy of Judge Greene's notice.

What a vile, hideous man.

Fanny caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. Tall and fit, with a shock of thick, white hair, he stood near the buffet table with his wife and family. The judge's features were distinguished and classically handsome, his face almost pretty. It seemed unfair that the man should look twenty years younger than his age.

His sins were supposed to show in his appearance, weren't they?

“He doesn't matter,” she muttered.

To his credit, Jonathon didn't pretend to misunderstand who she meant. “No, he doesn't, not tonight.”

Not ever
, Fanny wanted to add, but Jonathon's hold around her waist tightened ever so slightly and he twirled her in a series of smooth, sure-footed spins.

The man was incredibly light on his feet.

“Where did you learn to dance so beautifully?”

“My mother taught me.” His gaze darkened, filling with the shadows of some private memory. “She believed every gentleman should know how to waltz, her son most of all.”

Proving his expertise went beyond the basics, he spun Fanny in a collection of complicated steps that had her gasping for air. “She instructed you well.”

“Indeed.”

They smiled at each other. More than a few interested gazes followed them through the next series of twirls. Fanny frowned at the words she caught from a gaggle of ladies on her left.
That's the girl who jilted Reese Bennett Jr.

Whatever was she thinking?

Fanny could tell them, if they condescended to ask her directly. She would gladly explain that her worst fear was marrying a man she didn't love, or worse, who didn't love her. She couldn't imagine anything more awful than being trapped in a miserable, unhappy marriage.

Jonathon changed direction, backpedaling once, twice, spinning her around. And around. Her head whirled in the most delightful way, leaving her pleasantly breathless.

The whispers traveling in their wake were all but forgotten. She ignored everything—everyone—and focused solely on enjoying this moment, in this man's arms.

A man she admired above all others.

A man who'd made it perfectly clear he didn't want to marry, because of the paternal example he'd been given. The thought left her feeling glum. No. She refused to allow anything to ruin this waltz, this night.

Fanny's parents twirled past, catching her notice. She allowed their joy to fill her. They were both so beautiful, the handsome rancher and his stunning wife. Her mother was dressed in a midnight-blue gown several shades darker than her steel-blue eyes. Her entire being glowed as she smiled up at her husband.

Cyrus Mitchell's expression was incredibly tender as he gazed into his wife's eyes. The fear and worry was still there, but not as apparent tonight. Gone was the gruff rancher, and in his place, dressed in formal attire, was a besotted husband.

Fanny sighed. She adored her parents, and desperately wanted what they had—a blessed, godly marriage filled with laughter, loyalty and, of course, love.

As if sensing her gaze on him, her father smiled over at her and winked. Fanny barely had time to return the gesture before Jonathon whirled her in the opposite direction.

Her heart lifted and sighed with pleasure.

He took her through another spin, then slowed their pace. The smile he gave her nearly buckled her knees. “Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?”

“Yes, several times.”

“It bears repeating.”

She swallowed a nervous laugh. “You look quite handsome this evening yourself. Very elegant, very refined. I thoroughly approve of your attire.”

The tension in his shoulders immediately returned.

What had she said to put him on guard once again?

“Clothing can change a man's appearance, but it cannot change his character.”

What an odd thing to say. Surely he wasn't referring to himself. “I don't quite know what you mean.”

His gaze connected with his father, who now stood just on the edge of the dance floor, watching them intently. “The inner man doesn't always match the outer trappings.”

Ah, now she understood. “Don't compare yourself to your father,” she ordered in a low, fierce tone. “You're nothing like him.”

“You don't know that, Fanny.”

“I know
you
. You're kind and generous and—”

“You wouldn't say that if you were privy to the things I've done in the past.” Pain and self-recrimination inhabited his eyes as he spoke.

She wanted to weep for the little boy who'd done whatever necessary to survive, for the young man who'd made questionable choices to pull himself out of poverty. “The past should be left in the past where it belongs.”

“Such innocence.” The tenderness in his smile nearly broke her heart. “There are some things that can't be undone, Fanny, mistakes that can't be forgotten.”

“You're wrong, Jonathon. That's the wonder of God's grace. He knows what we've done and loves us anyway.”

Her partner opened his mouth to speak, probably to argue with her, but the music stopped.

Their steps slowly drew to a halt. By some unspoken agreement, they stayed linked in each other's arms, neither moving, neither speaking. One heartbeat passed, then another, by the third Jonathon took a deliberate step back and offered her his arm.

She accepted the silent invitation without question.

In strained silence, he escorted her off the dance floor. Fanny hated the sudden shift in the mood between them. A sense of awkwardness had returned to their relationship.

Experiencing a desperate urge to put matters right, she made a bold request. “Would you care to join me outside on the terrace for some fresh air?”

For several endless seconds, he simply stared at her. She could see the silent battle waging within him. “That would be unwise.”

“Not if we stay in plain sight.” She spoke in a rush, then forced herself to slow down, to speak calmly. “We won't be fully alone. People have been coming and going through the French doors all evening.”

He glanced at the wall of glass doors lining the balcony. He drew in a slow, steady breath and then nodded in agreement.

They made their way across the ballroom without speaking.

He paused at the exit, dropped his gaze over her silk gown. “You aren't dressed for the weather.”

“I can tolerate a few moments in the cold.”

“That,” he said, shaking his head, “I won't allow.”

He shrugged out of his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. The gesture was so thoughtful, so...Jonathon.

Tears burned in her throat. He was such a good man, down to his very core, generous in both deed and spirit. If only he would see himself the way she did.

Blinking back a wave of emotion, she pulled the jacket's lapels together. Jonathon's warmth instantly enveloped her.

She walked with him onto the terrace, then lifted her gaze to the heavens. The air was cool on her face, refreshing after the stifling atmosphere of the ballroom.

Several other couples meandered past them. Others leaned on the balcony's railing. Caught up in their own conversations, none seemed to pay Fanny and Jonathon any notice.

She maneuvered past the bulk of the crowd, stopping at the edge of a tiny alcove at the end of the walkway. Though not completely hidden from sight, the small space afforded relative privacy.

Still, Jonathon took up a position at the railing.

Of course he would refuse to put her in a compromising position. Was it any wonder she admired this man?

Accepting the wisdom of the move, she joined him in the light, in full view of the ballroom, and anyone who cared to look. People
always
cared to look.

Something Fanny must keep in mind if she was to change the way society saw her.

Hard to do, when all she wanted was to be alone with the handsome, thoughtful, interesting man by her side.

* * *

Too late, Jonathon realized he'd made an error in judgment. He should never have agreed to escort Fanny outside. The intimacy of the moment was nearly too much to bear. Looking at her wrapped inside his jacket gave him all sorts of thoughts he shouldn't be entertaining.

She was a beautiful woman and he a man just hitting his prime, a man with a tainted past and a host of bad choices behind him.

He'd like to think he'd grown wiser in the past few years. Clearly, he hadn't. As evidenced by the fact that he was out on the terrace with Fanny.

Even if they stayed in the open, her reputation was at risk by simply being in his company. “Time to head back inside.”

He reached for her hand.

She skillfully sidestepped him. “I have something to say.”

Impatience slid through him. If they stayed away from the ballroom much longer, someone would come looking for them. “We can speak inside.”

“Please, Jonathon. I'll be brief.”

“All right.” He made a grand show of putting a large amount of space between them. “I'm listening.”

She gave him a mildly scolding look. “How am I supposed to talk to you when you've put a giant chasm between us?”

“Three feet is not a giant chasm.”

“You're missing the point.”

No, actually,
she
was missing the point. She, of all people, should know what was at stake if someone chose to misinterpret their little meeting out here on the terrace.

“Fanny, we can't stay out here much longer. Our absence will soon be noticed, if it hasn't been already.”

“You're right, of course.” She handed him back his coat but made no move to return to the ballroom. “I'm sorry Judge Greene showed up tonight.”

Her words were steady, but her eyes spoke of her distress. So much sorrow, sorrow for him.

Had anyone ever cared for him that much? His mother, of course. Marc and Laney. A piteously small number of people, to be sure. “It's not your fault, Fanny. You didn't invite him.”

“I didn't try to uninvite him, either.”

She truly cared about him. The selfish part of Jonathon longed to bask in such favor. A dangerous prospect.

He had nothing to give her beyond material things. Fanny deserved more than pretty trinkets. And Jonathon wanted to give her more. But if he let down his guard, enough to explore the feelings he already had for her, there was no guarantee he wouldn't ultimately hurt her.

He couldn't risk causing her harm.

“You shouldn't be out here with me.”

“Why not?”

“Your reputation—”

She cut him off with a delicate sniff. “My reputation was put into question long before you and I...”

Her words trail off, as if she wasn't sure what they were to one another.

He wasn't sure, either.

“Let's go back inside.”

She remained rooted to the spot. “I haven't had my say.”

“Then by all means carry on, but quickly.”

“You aren't your father, nor are you going to turn out like him. I have faith in you. You should have faith in yourself.”

Her conviction shook Jonathon to the core. He hadn't expected this unwavering defense of his character. “What if you're wrong about me?”

“What if I'm right?”

For a dangerous moment, he allowed her certainty to sink past his cynicism, to permeate all the reasons he'd kept his distance from her.

“Yes, Jonathon, you started out life with the odds stacked against you. Of course you made mistakes, and a few bad choices. Haven't we all? What matters is who you are today, not who you once were.”

She pulled his hand to her face, sighed into his palm.

Mesmerized, he could only stare. The smooth skin of her cheek felt like silk against his roughened hand.

He might not be able to give her what she wanted, what she needed, but he couldn't seem to walk away. He couldn't even pull his hand away from her face.

He stared at her, thinking...maybe. Maybe...

“Fanny.” He said her name in a low growl. The sound came from deep within his soul, dangerous and full of warning. “Don't romanticize who I am beneath the fancy evening attire. You're looking at me from the goodness of your heart, not the reality of mine.”

“You're wrong.” She lifted her head. Her eyes were filled with warmth and affection.

His heart soared.

This woman could rescue me
. He shoved away the reckless thought. “Don't look at me like that.”