Charity House Courtship (Love Inspired Historical)

by Renee Ryan

  She wasn’t thinking like a businesswoman. Marc had to make her see beyond the moment, beyond the now. “I don’t doubt your resolve, or your abilities, but what if something happens to you, Laney? What then?”

  Hands shaking, she smoothed a strand of hair off her face. “The children know how to survive on their own.”

  “By picking pockets?”

  Her shoulders flinched. “I didn’t tell Johnny to go out and pick pockets.”

  “Maybe not. But haven’t you taught him that the end justifies the means? That as long as everything turns out all right, then do whatever it takes to survive?”

  She threw her hands in the air and twirled to face him. “You’re intentionally misunderstanding.”

  “Like it or not, I have a stake in this orphanage now.”

  “You have no say here, you are only my employer.”

  That hurt, but not enough to let her push him away. She was scared, desperate. In that, at least, he could offer her some relief. “Let me pay off your loan with Prescott.”

  “I... No.” Her expression closed. “I can’t accept your money.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m trying to teach the children the importance of facing the consequences of their actions, by doing so myself.”

  “The pace is killing you.”

  “I’m fine.” The fatigue in her eyes told a different story.

  “No, you’re not. Johnny saw your exhaustion, and it terrified him enough to go out and steal from a stranger. You’re fortunate that stranger was me.”

  The look she gave him said she wasn’t so sure.

  He tried a different approach. “You’re pushing yourself too hard trying to prove you can take care of everything on your own.”

  “It’s the only way I know how to live.”

  “What if you aren’t alone anymore? What if I’m here now? Please, let me help you.”

  “If I accept money from you, then all I’m teaching the children is how to take charity.” Tears welled in her eyes. “That’s not a lesson I want them to learn.”

  Marc crossed the divide between them. He linked his fingers with hers and squeezed gently, as though he could will her to comprehend what he was trying to do for her, and maybe for himself, too.

  “Taking my money could also teach the children how to accept a gift that’s freely given, with no hidden agenda, no expectations.”

  “Nothing is free in this world.”

  “God’s grace is free.”

  She yanked her hand out of his. “That’s not the same thing.”

  “It’s exactly the same.” And in that moment, Marc accepted the true meaning of grace, finally understood the need to give a gift to someone who hadn’t asked for anything in return.

  “Let me pay off the rest of your loan.”

  “I...can’t, Marc.”

  Considering what to say next, what to do next, he paused. Maybe he should allow her to continue working for him to earn the money she needed. What better way to protect her from men like Prescott and to make sure she didn’t exhaust herself beyond reason?

  Marc could always fiddle with the numbers. Maybe give Laney a bigger percentage of her earnings sooner than planned.

  “All right. If you’re determined to do this on your own, I won’t stand in your way.”

  Tired, dull brown eyes rose to meet his. “I have to finish what I started.”

  And now...so did he. “Answer me this, Laney, why didn’t you tell me you needed Judge Greene’s money for Charity House?”

  In answer, she grabbed onto his sleeve, pulled him toward a window overlooking the yard where the children played. “Look at them.”

  He did. He saw youthful energy and happiness. The things this woman had never had as a child. She’d been too busy keeping time and collecting money for her mother.

  Was it any wonder she didn’t trust him, or any man for that matter?

  Well, one day she would trust him. Marc would make sure of it.

  He looked at her again, caught her smiling indulgently at the children outside. The puzzle pieces fell neatly into place. “You didn’t tell me why Greene gave you the money because you were protecting the children, not him.”

  “Exactly.” In a halting tone, she told him the full story behind her loan with Prescott, including the banker’s attempt to shut the doors of Charity House by demanding the bulk of his money six months early.

  “So you see,” she said, taking an unsteady breath. “I had to take Judge Greene’s money, money he owed for one of those children out there.” She turned to face him. “The one you escorted home this morning. I’m trusting you to keep this secret for that boy’s sake, not mine.”

  “I’m not like the other men you’ve come across in your life, Laney. I won’t hurt you, or the children and certainly not Johnny.”

  She nodded. “I realize that now, but when we first met I couldn’t take that chance. There was too much at stake.”

  “I understand.” And he did.

  Unable to stop himself, Marc pulled Laney to him. He brushed his lips along the slope of her cheek. But the sound of footsteps tripping down the hall kept him from touching his mouth to hers.

  He let his hands drop to his side and stepped away from her. “I’ll see you at the hotel later tonight.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Marc stood on the fringes of the nightly activity of his hotel, watching Laney work the front desk with her usual poise and efficiency. In a few short weeks she’d become his best clerk, managing to charm his guests with a ready smile and willingness to address their every concern.

  For two days now Marc had avoided her, speaking to her only when necessary. He’d needed the time to sort through his thoughts, to mull over the secrets he’d discovered about her orphanage.

  Charity House. Had a nice ring to it.

  Though he didn’t fully approve, Marc understood why she’d gone to Prescott for a loan all those months ago. He hated that she wouldn’t accept his help with her debt to the shifty banker. But he admired her determination to accept the consequences of her actions.

  Narrowing his eyes, he gauged the visible signs of fatigue he could see even from this distance. Exhaustion was etched in her features, weariness circled her eyes. No longer able to deny the need to alleviate her suffering, he made his way to the front desk.

  Although it wasn’t yet nine in the evening, the night was long from over for Laney. A spasm of guilt hiked across his conscience. Instead of worrying about his own need to understand her actions, he should have tried harder to get her to take his money, thereby giving her relief from the grueling schedule she forced upon herself.

  Stepping behind her, he whispered into her ear. “When you get a moment come and talk to me. I’ll be waiting outside the restaurant.”

  She nodded but kept her focus on the guest in front of her. Treading toward the restaurant, Marc made idle conversation along the way. When Laney eventually joined him, he knew what to say to her. “I have a gift for the children.”

  “A...gift?” His words seemed to surprise her. “What are you up to now?”

  “Who says I’m up to anything? Honestly, Laney, you’re so suspicious.”

  “You’ve practically ignored me for two days and suddenly you’re generosity itself. Why the sudden change of heart?”

  He liked the miffed look playing across her features, enough to quit bantering with her. “Nothing to upset yourself over. And you can feel free to say no, but one of our guests from South America wanted to show me his gratitude for his exceptional stay—his words, not mine—by giving me a bushel of fruit.”

  “Fruit?”

  At her confused expression he laughed softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “That’s right. Fresh fruit, the kind we don’t usually find in Colorado. Oranges, grapefruits, tangerines.”

  She considered him for a moment, tucked her arms around her waist and sighed. “The children would love that. Tha
nk you, Marc.”

  “You’re accepting my gift?” The significance was not lost on him. “No questions asked?”

  “No questions asked.” Her smile nearly blinded him.

  Although, this wasn’t the same as her accepting his money, it was a start. And as he stared into her beautiful face he realized he’d do anything to see that smile of hers, directed at him, only him, always.

  “Let me retrieve the fruit, and then I’ll escort you home.”

  Her smile disappeared. “My shift is only half over.”

  “I’m releasing you early.”

  “I thought we talked about this already. I need to work, Marc. I need the money, I—”

  “I’ll still pay you for tonight.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t get too excited. I’ll expect you to work your entire shift tomorrow. Now, come.” Cutting off the rest of her arguments, he looped her arm in the crook of his. “You can wait in my office while I fetch the fruit.”

  That way she wouldn’t get caught up helping another guest. Brilliant, Dupree.

  Eventually, she nodded at him. “All right, Marc. I’m tired enough to let you send me home early.”

  “I like you in this accommodating mood.”

  “Don’t get used to it.” She tried to look fierce as she spoke, but he was on to her now. Laney O’Connor was a woman with a large heart, tender affection and deep convictions.

  The kind that were running her into the ground.

  Marc wanted to lighten her burden a little, by offering a moment of respite and a special treat for her children. It wasn’t personal. He’d do the same for any employee.

  Right, Dupree, keep telling yourself that.

  * * *

  Before Laney could protest, or change her mind, Marc steered her toward his office.

  With a flick of his wrist he opened the door then stepped aside to let her pass.

  The soothing comfort hit her like a punch. She breathed in deeply and nearly stumbled over her own two feet. Too many sights washed into too many smells, making her fully aware of a man she already thought about more often than she should.

  Holding back a sigh, she headed toward one of the wingbacked chairs facing his desk with the idea of resting her tired feet while he retrieved the fruit.

  “Oh, no, not there.” Marc placed his palms the back of her shoulders and urged her toward the sofa instead of the chair. “Sit here, where you’ll have more room to stretch out.”

  She stared longingly at the piece of furniture, tempted by the mounds of soft, plush fabric and fluffy throw pillows.

  “Go on, Laney, stretch out your legs while I’m gone. I might be a while.”

  She spun around to ask him what he meant by a while but he’d already slipped out of the room.

  After a moment of staring at the closed door, exhaustion took hold. She sank onto the sofa. Bouncing a few times, she resisted the urge to fall back and sleep through the next eternity.

  Promising her tired body rest—when she made it home and all the chores were complete—she hopped up and paced through the room. Eyeing the armoire, she smiled broadly, remembering the first time Marc had shut her in this room. They’d come so far since then. She no longer had any desire to escape, out the window or by any other means.

  In the mood to reminisce, she thought about opening the large cabinet, to see if Marc still had his clothes neatly arranged by color and style, but the sofa beckoned. She drifted across the floor and plopped down again. With Marc’s masculine scent lingering in the air, she leaned her head back and sighed deeply.

  Now, this was one seriously comfortable piece of furniture.

  * * *

  Determined not to wake her just yet, Marc stood on the threshold of his office, watching Laney sleep. Cuddled on the sofa, her dress a mountain of fabric around her, she looked peaceful for the first time he’d known her.

  At last, he thought. She was getting the rest she needed. Maybe he should let her sleep a bit longer. But he’d already been here and gone two other times and he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t appreciate being left to sleep too long.

  The woman was many things, strong, resourceful, stubborn. But she was no lady of leisure. Pity that. Marc could get used to spoiling her.

  Decision made, he entered the room. Turning, he clicked the door closed and pressed his forehead against the wood. “Just wake her up, Dupree, then quickly escort her home like you promised,” he whispered to himself.

  Fine advice, for a man of iron will. He stepped toward her sleeping form. Then stepped back. Maybe he should go get Rose and have her wake Laney.

  At least she snored. Unfortunately, instead of annoying him, the delicate, feminine sound left him charmed beyond reason.

  The woman slept with as much abandon as she went through her waking life. Laney O’Connor had the grit and determination of eight sailors fighting a hurricane in a two-man boat.

  She’s just a woman, he told himself. One who put the lives of innocent children ahead of her own.

  Even before he’d known about the orphanage, Marc had already concluded that Laney was unlike anyone he’d ever known.

  And now, he let the truth take hold.

  He loved her humor, her courage, her willingness to accept her mistakes and see them through.

  He loved...her.

  He loved Laney O’Connor.

  He wanted to spend his life with her, to stand by her side, through the good times and the bad, to protect her and keep the world from hurting her any further.

  But he also wanted to laugh with her, fight with her, and let her smooth his cares away while he conquered hers.

  He reached out and touched her cheek, wondering when he’d managed to cross the room.

  She sighed contentedly.

  “Laney, honey. It’s time to wake up. We need to get you home.” Before he did something they’d both regret.

  Another sigh. A slow, secretive smile.

  He swallowed. “Laney?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Come on, honey.” He rubbed his hand down her arm. “Wake up.”

  She snorted—she actually snorted—then mumbled something in response. It sounded like she said “sleepy,” but he couldn’t quite make out the word.

  Right. That was one exhausted woman.

  And Marc’s heart was melting by the second. “You’re not making this easy on me,” he muttered through his very tight jaw. “Laney.”

  Her lids slowly opened, fluttered shut, then snapped back open.

  “Hello,” he said, grinning at her like a besotted fool.

  She rubbed a fist against her eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Time to get you home.”

  As if only just realizing where she was, she shot off the sofa and looked frantically around her. “How...how long did I sleep?”

  “Two hours.”

  “Oh, I...” She glared at him. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

  “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t have the heart.”

  Her hand went to her hair. “I must look a fright.”

  Tenderness swept through him. “You look beautiful. Now, come.” He reached out his hand. “Let me walk you home.”

  She hesitated, staring at his hand for an endless moment. After a quick intake of air, she placed her palm against his. “Thank you, yes, I’d like that.”

  Finally. She was beginning to trust him.

  * * *

  The next morning, Laney struggled to keep her emotions even, but her growing feelings for Marc nearly overwhelmed her.

  In a flurry of activity, she completed her share of the household chores earlier than usual and found herself with too much free time to think. Needing something to do with her hands—and her mind—she went to the kitchen and busied herself with making biscuits.

  Once the preparations were complete, she grabbed a fistful of flour and flung it onto the dough waiting to be spread out. The air clouded with white powder, making her eyes water an
d setting her lungs coughing themselves clear.

  She punched the dough with a fist. “Not only did I fall asleep in Marc’s office last night, now I’m going to choke myself to death,” she said with a groan.

  Marc. Oh...Marc.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at her when he’d said good-night to her at the front gate. Adoringly. Lovingly. Though there had been no actual declarations, no promises made, she knew he cared for her deeply. Perhaps even loved her. Her heart told her to trust him.

  Trust. It always came back to that.

  Could she let Marc into her heart, into the world she’d created for herself and the children? She’d have to battle a lifetime habit of relying only on herself. A habit that would be difficult to break, no matter how much she cared for the man.

  So intent on ridding herself of her troubling thoughts, she didn’t hear Katherine approach. “You’re going to beat that dough to death.”

  Jumping, Laney wiped her forehead on her sleeve then started back to pounding. “The idea has merits.”

  Katherine poured a glass of water and offered it to her. Laney shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  “You want to talk about whatever’s troubling you?”

  Laney’s hands stilled. “Who says there’s anything troubling me?”

  Pointing, Katherine indicated the mutilated dough. “Just a hunch. Here.” She set down the glass of water and handed Laney a towel. “Wipe your hands and come sit with me on the porch.”

  “I have biscuits to make.”

  Fingers wrapped around her wrist, and squeezed gently. “Leave it for now.”

  Biting back a sigh, Laney snatched the towel with exasperation. “Oh, all right.”

  She followed Katherine on to the front porch. Settling herself in one of the rockers, she looked out at the Rocky Mountains, seeing them but not really seeing them. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Katherine perched on the edge of the railing and smiled down at her. “No?”

  “Well, yes, I do. I just don’t want it to be like this.” She spread her palms across her skirt. “It’s not supposed to be so complicated.”

  “It?”

  Laney dashed a glance behind her, ensuring they were alone. “Falling in love.”