by Renee Ryan
“Well done, Hawkins.” Logan gripped his shoulder as his brother had just done. “You are officially my second-favorite brother-in-law, Reese only barely nudging you out because he’s been around longer.”
Shaking her head, Mrs. Mitchell looked from her sons to Jonathon and back again. “Yes, well, I’ll leave you to your man talk.”
Before she turned to go, she set her hand on Jonathon’s shoulder and presented her cheek for him to kiss.
He did so without hesitation.
A whimsical smile crossed her lips as she wandered away.
The moment she was out of earshot, Hunter took on the role of family spokesman. “We actually came over for two reasons. The first is to welcome you into the family, the other to give you your wedding gift.”
Wedding gift? The man couldn’t have surprised Jonathon more if he’d called him out for a gunfight. “Fanny and I have everything we need.”
“Everything you need, yes.” Hunter gave him a meaningful look. “But not, I think, everything you want.”
What Jonathon wanted was a wife he could not hurt, a wife he could not fail. Anything else, he could acquire on his own.
But then he remembered the land deal that had never come to pass. Mitchell land stays in Mitchell hands.
In the craziness of the day, he’d nearly forgotten his dream of creating a legacy for himself separate from his father.
The picture in his jacket pocket—a reminder of where you really come from—told Jonathon he was already forging his own legacy.
“I have everything I need and everything I want.” It was nothing short of the truth.
“Not yet.” Hunter hitched his chin at the youngest Mitchell brother.
Garrett reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a familiar pack of papers. The contract Jonathon had presented these three men the day before Mrs. Singletary’s charity ball.
“Go ahead,” Logan urged. “Take it.”
With the brothers staring at him expectantly, he instinctively reached out.
“I predict you’ll be pleased with the terms.”
He flipped through the agreement, skimming the familiar words, taking in the changes, specifically the ridiculous price of one dollar. On the final page, the three Mitchell names were scrolled across the bottom. All that was missing was Jonathon’s signature.
“The land is yours,” Hunter said, eyes glinting with good humor. “Assuming you can afford the asking price.”
Before Jonathon could respond, Garrett added, “We’ll support whatever you want to do with the property.”
Carte blanche. The Mitchell brothers were giving him total freedom to develop the land however he wanted. Far more than he’d expected.
The victory felt hollow, but he couldn’t think why.
He’d been planning this project for an entire year, ever since making the Denver Hotel Dupree his permanent residence. But it was as if he’d somehow lost something valuable, something he couldn’t put a name to yet.
“I have a better idea.” He thrust the contract back at Garrett. “Put the land in Fanny’s name.”
Surprise registered on two of the three faces. Hunter, however, simply nodded in approval. “Consider it done.”
*
After the last guest left the ballroom, Fanny hid a yawn behind her hand. Given the late night giggling with Callie, coupled with the excitement of her wedding day, she was worn to the bone. If she didn’t sit down soon she feared she would collapse in an embarrassing heap at her husband’s feet.
Jonathon’s soothing voice washed over her in a low, rumbling, masculine purr. “Tired?”
She shot a smile at him. “Exhausted, actually.”
“It’s been a long day for both of us.” He took her hand and drew her out of the ballroom. “Time to head upstairs.”
The warmth in his gaze brought a rush of anticipation. Dare she hope her husband would make their marriage real? On their wedding night?
Most brides didn’t have to wonder about such matters. After all, the Lord had created marriage for intimacy between a husband and his wife. There was no shame in that, she told herself, even as her cheeks heated.
Ever the gentleman, Jonathon escorted her into the elevator and told the attendant to take them to the top floor. With their very avid audience of one, they kept a respectable distance from each other.
Oh, but Fanny was tired of being polite. She wanted to be Jonathon’s wife, in every sense of the word.
Out of the corner of her eye, she cast a surreptitious glance in his direction. He looked so handsome in his formal wedding attire, the gray of his jacket nearly the same color as his eyes in the darkened elevator.
Always, Jonathon lived easily in his skin, no matter what he was wearing or the situation in which he found himself. The impeccable clothing was merely drapery, elegant but inconsequential to the man beneath.
“Here we are,” the attendant announced, releasing latches and sliding open the elevator door to the ninth floor, where Jonathon kept a suite of rooms.
Before exiting, Fanny made eye contact with the hotel employee. “Thank you, Harold.”
“You’re most welcome, Miss Mitchell, I mean…” he cleared his throat, slid a worried glance at Jonathon “…Mrs. Hawkins.”
With Jonathon indicating she take the lead, Fanny stepped into the hallway. But not before she caught him handing Harold a bank note and then thanking him for his hard work on behalf of the hotel.
Fanny’s heart swelled with affection. Her husband was such a generous man.
Her husband. She felt a rush of feminine pride that this man was hers.
Would she ever grow used to being married to him? She hoped not. She hoped she would always be full of this same sense of wonder whenever she looked at him.
“This way.” Jonathon settled his hand on Fanny’s lower back and escorted her to his—their—private suite on the top floor of the hotel.
He opened the door with his key and again directed her to take the lead.
She stepped inside the room.
For a moment, all she could do was blink in muted astonishment. This was her first glimpse into Jonathon’s private world and it fell incredibly flat.
“I don’t know what I expected but…this?” She stretched out her hand. “Isn’t it.”
Jonathon followed the direction of her gaze, narrowing his eyes as if trying to see his private domain from her perspective. “Would you like a tour?”
“I suppose.” But what would be the point?
Though the space was certainly luxurious and spectacular, especially compared to the single-bed rooms, there was no sign of Jonathon anywhere. Gleaming woodwork adorned the walls. The dark grain contrasted perfectly with the rich burgundy and gold tones of the furniture and draperies. The elegant chairs and settees were upholstered with a swirling brocade pattern.
Tasteful restraint ruled the first bedroom he showed her, the muted ivory and green hues a pleasant divergence from the vibrant colors in the common areas.
The more Fanny followed Jonathon from room to room, the bleaker her heart grew. The cold, impersonal decor was clear evidence that her husband hovered on the fringes of life, not really connecting, but instead remaining cool and distant.
She remembered what her sister-in-law had said about him as a boy. He kept a part of himself separate from the other children. He was friendly, but he didn’t have a lot of friends.
Nothing had changed for Jonathon, despite his financial wealth and business success.
Fanny longed to wrap her arms around him and chase away the memories of his childhood. She longed to show him he was not alone and that he was loved.
If only he would let her.
In strained silence, he led her into another bedroom, this one done in soothing tones of various blues.
“I thought you would claim this room for yourself. It’s the largest and most comfortable.” His lips curved in a gentle smile. “You may, of course, redecorate to your specifications. I’m
thinking the colors are a bit masculine, however—”
“This is my room?” It appalled her to feel hot tears of disappointment gathering in her eyes.
“Unless you would prefer one of the others I have already shown you.” He compelled her with only his eyes. “I want you to feel comfortable here, Fanny.”
Didn’t her husband realize that sharing his room would make her the happiest of all? That starting a family with him was what she wanted most in this world?
She’d seen him interacting with her nieces and nephews at various times throughout the day. He enjoyed children, more, she thought, than even he realized. He would be a good father. Fanny knew it. Annabeth knew it. It seemed everyone knew it except Jonathon himself.
Of course, now was not the time for that discussion.
“Where will you sleep?”
His eyebrows slammed together in masculine bafflement. “In my bedroom, of course.”
“Which is where, precisely?” Please don’t say in another suite, or worse, on another floor. Anything but that.
“My room is on the opposite side of the suite.”
A moment of relief filled her. At least they would be living in close proximity. It was a start.
A very good start, indeed.
Summoning up her brightest smile, Fanny glanced around her new home and then back at her husband. “Thank you, Jonathon, this room will suit my needs perfectly.”
For now.
Chapter Eighteen
Jonathon knew he was in trouble the moment Fanny turned docile and compliant. She was many things, but neither of those came to mind.
What was she up to?
He eyed her cautiously. “I’ll have your belongings brought up from the other suite in the morning.”
Her smile never wavered. “That’ll be fine.”
The overly polite response put him further on guard. “Is there anything else you’ll want or need?”
“Not at the moment, no.” She took a step toward him.
He took a step back and cleared his throat. “I thought we would share a late supper before we call it a night. I had room service deliver an assortment of cold meats and—”
“That sounds perfectly wonderful.”
“I haven’t finished telling you what I ordered for us.”
Still smiling, she closed the distance between them and placed her hand on her chest. “I’m sure whatever the chef sent up will meet with my expectations.”
Her low, accommodating voice poured warmth over the tense moment.
Jonathon quickly strode back to the main sitting area, where the staff had set up a small, intimate table for two.
An overabundance of meats, cheeses, breads and sugary confections were arranged in an artful display. Candlelight completed the romantic setting.
Fanny took her time examining the fare. She circled the table, running her fingertip along the edge of the pristine white linen cloth. Jonathon stood transfixed by her beauty. Her hair glimmered beneath the glow of the fire that snapped in the hearth.
“The setup is quite lovely, Jonathon.”
Not nearly as lovely as Fanny was, swathed in golden firelight.
He cleared his throat again. “Would you prefer to eat here at the table? Or we could fill our plates and relax in the chairs over by the fireplace.”
“I should think either option sufficient.” The words sounded like cream in her soft, feminine voice.
Something inside him snapped. “Could you stop being so agreeable?”
Amusement entered her eyes. “You would wish me to be contrary instead?”
“Of course not.” He drew in a sharp, impatient breath. “I wish…”
“You wish…?” she prompted, when he held his silence.
His breath stalled in his lungs.
What a picture she made, innocence and purity itself in her pretty wedding dress. He didn’t regret marrying her, but he feared she would grow to regret marrying him. And that would be a tragic day, indeed. He felt as though he was seeing her for the first time, with the eyes of a husband.
He was in big trouble.
“Come here, Jonathon.” With the faintest trace of nerves shadowing the move, she lifted her arms.
The emotion that swept through him when he pulled her into his embrace was like an unexpected thunderstorm that blew in out of nowhere, then was suddenly gone, leaving nothing but a sense of calm in its wake.
“Fanny.” He buried his face in her hair, breathed in her scent of lilacs and mint.
Fanny belonged in his arms, in his life.
For a terrifying moment, he could hear nothing but the voice of his father on their first meeting. You were a mistake never meant to happen.
Jonathon knew it was a lie.
Fanny had taught him to see past the deception.
He kissed the top of her head, stroked her hair. When she pulled back to look at him, he lowered his mouth to hers.
The kiss started gentle, but it quickly got out of hand. He immediately set her away from him.
“Jonathon?” Confusion filled her eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“How am I looking at you?”
He put his back to her, speared a hand through his hair. It was easier to have this conversation without meeting her gaze. “You are looking at me as if you want the one thing I warned you I couldn’t give.”
“Oh, Jonathon, you’re both right and wrong. I do want something from you.” She threw her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back. “I want you to know you aren’t alone anymore. You’ll never be alone again. I am here with you, always and forever.”
Her words whipped through him like a balmy gust of wind. “I believe you.”
He attempted to shift away from her.
Making a sound of protest deep in her throat, she worked her way around him until they were facing each other again.
No one had ever looked at him the way she regarded him now, as if she had every faith in him, as if he was the answer to all her hopes and dreams.
He had no armor against that look.
To keep from reaching out to her, he clenched his fists behind his back. He must not touch her. Not until they came to an understanding.
“You’re tired.” He saw the truth of it in the slight slump of her shoulders and the drooping of her eyelids. “Perhaps we should set aside any serious conversation until morning.”
“No.” She jammed her hands on her hips. “There’s more to discuss.”
She was quite spectacular glaring at him, her eyes full of purpose in the dazzling firelight.
He swallowed a grin. “All right, Fanny, have your say.”
His agreement took all the iron out of her spine.
Sighing softly, she lowered her hands to her sides. “You are very good at keeping your distance from others, but it isn’t necessary with me. One day you will know I speak the truth.”
He knew it now and wondered why he continued fighting the inevitable. He could never have a marriage in name only with this woman.
As if coming to a similar conclusion, she whispered his name. “Will you do me the honor of making me your wife?”
His very soul wavered between battle and surrender.
If he did as she asked, if he made their marriage real, he feared he would eventually let her down. Maybe not today, or even tomorrow, but sometime in the future.
“Once we cross this line,” he warned, “we can never go back.”
“Jonathon, we crossed the proverbial line when we said our wedding vows. All that is left is making the commitment final.”
A low rumble moved through his chest, sounded in his sharp intake of air.
“We have both had a long, tiring day,” he said. One he didn’t want to end anytime soon. But he needed to give her one last chance to retire to her own room. “You may still say goodnight and I will let you alone.”
In answer, she took his hand and smiled. “The tour of my new home is not yet com
plete. There is still one room you haven’t shown me.”
The only room he hadn’t shown her was his bedroom. As the meaning of her words became clear, a slow grin spread across his lips.
Jonathon scooped his bride into his arms.
By morning, Fanny would be his wife in every sense of the word. For her sake, he prayed he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.
*
The next three months were the happiest of Fanny’s life. She was a blissfully married woman. Jonathon was turning out to be a very good husband. Their relationship grew stronger every day.
Now, as she sat behind her desk and reviewed next week’s bookings at the hotel, Fanny allowed a smile to spread across her lips. She was completely, wonderfully in love with her husband.
She hadn’t said the words out loud. Not yet, but soon, she told herself, when she felt Jonathon was ready to hear them. Perhaps once spring chased away the last of the winter chill Fanny would unveil the full contents of her heart.
For now, she showed her feelings for her husband in countless other ways. In the brush of her hand across his cheek before they fell asleep at night. In the notes she left on his desk beneath papers for him to find. Or simply wrapped in one of her smiles.
Though there were moments when she felt as though Jonathon still held a portion of himself back from her, she knew that tendency would go away in time.
Fanny had no doubt he cared for her. He might even love her. Like her, he displayed his affection in ways other than words. In the gentle way he spoke her name. In the unexpected moments he showed up at her office and whisked her away for one of their delightful walks.
There was one thing missing in her life with Jonathon, one thing that would make her joy complete. A child. Jonathon’s child.
Fanny set down her pencil and placed her hand over her flat stomach. Would she ever feel a baby’s kick against her palm?
Annabeth and Hunter had welcomed their newest family member three weeks after Fanny’s wedding, a little boy named Sean, who had his mother’s dark hair and his father’s amber eyes.
Garrett and Molly’s baby was due in another two months. Now that Mary Mitchell’s asthma was under control, Fanny’s parents planned to travel to Saint Louis for the birth. They would stay only two weeks, then head home in time to welcome Callie and Reese’s child into the world.