Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (17 page)

Chapter Seventeen

T
he wedding reception lasted well into the evening hours. As they'd done for Mrs. Singletary's charity ball, many of the wedding guests had reserved rooms in the hotel. Jonathon predicted a long night.

He stood away from the main crowd gathered in the grand ballroom. Shoulder propped against the wall, he was content to watch the festivities from a distance.

His gaze followed Fanny as she wove from one group of guests to the next. She moved with natural grace, fresh and poised as a delicate flower that had found a way to bloom in the dead of winter. She'd worked her way past his defenses and had taken up residence in the darkest portions of his heart.

Despite their unconventional route to the altar, Jonathon couldn't say he was sorry to have Fanny for his wife. He felt more alive because of the vows he'd pledged to her, more awake, as if he were emerging from an unpleasant dream that had held him in its dark grip for far too long.

Already, after only a few hours with Fanny permanently united to him, the world made more sense. His footsteps were lighter, the air around him smelled sweeter and—

The air smelled sweeter?

Jonathon shook his head at the fanciful notion. Any more of this sappy introspection and he would find himself putting pen to paper in an effort to write verse in honor of his wife.

Him, a hardened street kid turned ruthless businessman, a worthy opponent in any fistfight, who'd maneuvered through every dark corner in the underbelly of Denver, had been reduced to poetic musings by a mere slip of a woman.

Then again, Fanny was no mere woman. She was confident and strong, bold and courageous, with a spine made of steel.

And now she was his wife.

Jonathon would share the rest of his life with Fanny Mitchell—no, Fanny
Hawkins
. By the grace of God, they would grow old together. An image of her in the distant future insinuated itself in his mind. She would be as beautiful to him in her dotage as she was to him now.

Jonathon would do anything—sacrifice everything—to make her happy. He adored her. He might even be in love with her.

Was he in love with Fanny?

It was too soon to tell.
Definitely
too soon.

Mouth tight, jaw clenched, he tried to calm his raging heartbeat. Sliding his gaze past Fanny helped.

The ballroom had a decidedly different feel for this party than the one hosted by Mrs. Singletary nearly a month ago. The atmosphere was more festive, while also being more relaxed.

Instead of elegantly dressed men and women twirling around the dance floor, people were gathered in small groups, talking, laughing and generally enjoying themselves.

But the most notable difference was the hordes of children in attendance. After a full day of being on their best behavior, many were growing tired of following the rules of decorum dictated by the adults. A few of the boys fidgeted, others tugged on their neck cloths. Some had already taken to poking each other.

Two of them began chasing a third boy in a circle; others soon joined them. A game of tag suddenly erupted in the center of the dance floor.

With a firm shake of his head, Jonathon alerted his hovering staff to let them play. The room was large enough to accommodate their antics without encroaching on the adult conversations.

Besides, the children's laughter was infectious. Jonathon would like nothing more than to join them. It had been far too long since he'd indulged in a rousing game of tag.

A smile tugged at his lips.

“Now that's the sight of a very happy groom. Does my heart good.”

Mrs. Mitchell's pleased tone further improved his mood.

Smiling easier still, Jonathon pushed away from the wall. “How could I not be happy? I just married a woman nearly as beautiful as her mother.”

Mrs. Mitchell's tinkle of laughter was its own reward.

“There is nothing I'd rather hear than flattery from a handsome young man, but my dear Mr. Hawkins—”

“Jonathon.”

“Jonathon.” She sent him a quick, lovely smile reminiscent of her daughter's. “Why are you hovering in the shadows instead of joining in the festivities?”

He decided to be truthful. “You have a large, extended family, Mrs. Mitchell, and I am bit—”

“Overwhelmed by the vast quantities of us?”

He laughed.

“It's not the numbers.” He'd lived surrounded by hordes of boys and girls at Charity House. “It is more that I find myself besieged with too many people in one room who play very different roles in my life.”

Her head tilted and she looked confused. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

He expelled a breath. “I have known some of the people in this room since childhood. A few are new friends, many are old. And then there is...your family.”

“Ah, now I understand.”

“Do you?” He hardly understood himself what he was trying to say.

“But of course. You don't know where your new family fits into your very organized world. Everyone else has his or her place. The Mitchells do not. Adding to the confusion, there are...” she cast her gaze over the room “...quite a lot of us.”

To his amazement she'd described the situation perfectly. “You are a very wise woman, Mrs. Mitchell. I have half a mind to put you in charge of my entire hotel empire.”

“Tempting.” She gave him a friendly nudge with her shoulder. “But keeping track of my grandchildren is more than enough work for me.”

They shared a laugh, then turned as one to watch her grandchildren at play. One of Hunter's kids, the youngest boy—Christopher?—noticed them staring. He shot in their direction, a blur of shaggy blond hair and fast pumping legs in a tiny black suit.

Jonathon barely had time to scoop up the boy before he could slam into his grandmother. “Whoa, little man, what's the rush?”

Giggling, Christopher wiggled in his arms, then slapped Jonathon on the shoulder.

“Tag,” the little boy shouted, loudly enough to be heard on the top floor of the hotel. “You're it.”

Jonathon set him back on the ground, leaned over and tapped the boy's head. “Tag,
you're
it.”

The kid blinked at him, once, twice, then a wide grin spread across his mouth.

“Okay.” He sped off to find another victim, arms flaying, shouting, “I'm it. I'm it.”

“You're good with children,” Mrs. Mitchell noted.

Was he?

It'd been years since he'd spent any length of time around kids. Now that he thought about it, Jonathon decided he wasn't so much good with children as he understood them. They wanted very little from adults. A sense of safety. Authenticity. Honesty. Things Jonathon hadn't experienced himself until he'd moved into Charity House.

“You clearly like being around little ones.”

Realizing he hadn't responded to Mrs. Mitchell's earlier comment, Jonathon nodded. “I suppose I do.”

If he understood children, if he
liked
them, perhaps he wouldn't be such a terrible father, after all. Perhaps he might even make a decent one.

How would he ever know if he didn't take the risk?

“No frowning on your wedding day,” Mrs. Mitchell scolded softly, patting his arm as Laney had done that morning. “The Mitchell brood isn't as daunting as we first appear. And for the record, we are pleased to call you one of us.”

“Truly? But you hardly know me.”

“You make Fanny happy. That goes a long way to softening even the most skeptical members of my family.”

As if her words had the power to summon the “most skeptical,” Fanny's brothers sauntered toward them. They each wore a version of the same stern, determined expression.

“Ah,” Mrs. Mitchell said, spotting the men mere seconds after Jonathon had. “Here come my three handsome boys.”

With a show of amused indulgence, Mrs. Mitchell greeted her sons by presenting her cheek to each of them. They each gave her a loud, smacking kiss. Then they swung their attention to Jonathon.

Deciding to take the first shot, er...lighten the mood, he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “No need to kiss my cheek. A handshake will do.”

All three men went stock-still for the length of a single eye blink. Hunter cracked a smile first, followed a half beat later by Logan and Garrett. Soon all three men were giving Jonathon hearty backslaps.

“Welcome to the family, Hawkins.” Hunter gave his shoulder a hard squeeze. “You already fit right in.”

Jonathon was surprised at how intensely pleased he was by the statement. He now had five brothers. These oldest three, plus the other two who were attending university back East.

Knowing how these men worked, having watched them interact with one another, Jonathon adopted a dry, ironic tone, and said, “Lucky me.”

Again, it was the exact right thing to say. All three Mitchell brothers laughed.

“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.