Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (19 page)

Fanny blinked at the vast amount of information the man had supplied. One point seemed painfully clear. “So now that your legitimate son has disappointed you, you think to make Jonathon your heir?”

“Of course not.” Outrage filled every hard plane of the older man's face. “Your husband is the by-blow of a prostitute and therefore unfit to carry my name.”

Appalled, Fanny treated the judge to a withering glare. “He is your son.”

“That is true. More to the point, he made the very wise decision to marry you, a woman of impeccable breeding from a prominent ranching family.” His gaze dropped to her midsection. “I wish to name the first male child you bear as my official heir.”

Fanny's hand instinctively covered her stomach. “You cannot claim my child as your heir over your own son.”

The injustice horrified her. Just how many ways could this man hurt Jonathon?

“My hope is in the next generation. Josh's wife has proved barren. It is up to you, Mrs. Hawkins, to carry on my legacy.”

Hand still on her stomach, she stumbled backward. Only once she caught her balance did she realize Judge Greene had somehow maneuvered her several feet down a darkened alley.

“Your child will be my grandson. He will carry my blood.” The odious man leaned over her, his sense of entitlement easy to read in his eyes, even in the shadows.

Joshua Greene was truly a selfish man, clinging to a twisted logic that made sense only to him. He would go after what he wanted, regardless of the people he hurt in the process.

Fanny jerked her chin at him. “I am not afraid of you.”

But she
was
afraid. She was afraid for her husband, afraid for what this would do to Jonathon. His father would deny him his birthright in favor of his own son.

Lord, may we only have girls.

“Will you help me, Mrs. Hawkins? Will you encourage your husband to meet with me about this matter?”

A gasp flew from her mouth. She had no doubt this man would do everything in his power to make his desire a reality.

Fear held a tight grip on her, paralyzing her in place.

Now she understood the depth of Jonathon's pain and why he was so determined never to father a child. Fanny closed her eyes, her heart squeezing in sorrow, because a part of her agreed with his decision.

“What if Jonathon and I choose not to have children? What will you do then?”

Momentary fury flashed in the judge's gaze. “You arrogant, self-righteous chit.”

“Name-calling will not soften me to the idea of— Oh!”

Without warning, she was swept into the strong, familiar arms of her husband. Relief made her heart beat faster. She'd never been happier to see Jonathon. She barely had time to catch her breath before he maneuvered her against the brick wall, then stood in front of her, using his body to protect hers.

“Are you all right?” An edge of danger burned in his narrowed eyes, in his too-calm voice. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, no. Jonathon, I am completely unharmed.”

He lowered his gaze over her, searching, measuring. When his eyes met hers again, her stomach filled with spears of ice. She hardly recognized the man standing before her. He had a quiet, lethal edge she'd never seen in him.

This was the man who'd survived on the harsh streets of Denver by any means possible.

Hand shaking, Fanny reached up to cup his face, hoping to soothe away the rage simmering in his gaze. His eyes burned hotter still and she dropped her hand, regretting ever leaving the hotel.

Instead of making the situation better, Jonathon's arrival had made matters much, much worse.

Chapter Nineteen

J
onathon struggled to calm his breathing. Rage ran cold as ice in his veins, leaving an empty vacuum in his soul dark as the alley in which they stood. He'd never felt this vicious, territorial emotion before. But no one had ever threatened Fanny like this, either.

He widened his stance, wishing he could be on all sides of her. He continued searching for injury, relieved to find none.

When he'd caught sight of Greene pulling his wife into the alley, Jonathon had been all the way across the street. Too far. He'd broken into a run, petrified for his wife's safety.

“Jonathon.” Fanny's voice washed over him, soft and soothing, a warm, unexpected breeze in the cold, harsh air. “Our business is concluded here. We can head back to the hotel now.”

She took his hand and tugged him toward the busy street ahead, away from the dark alleyway, from the past, from everything he wanted to forget. For several steps, he let Fanny guide him along, wanting the light that defined her, needing it more than air.

The bright sunlight beckoned, washing over Fanny, amplifying the blond streaks in her hair and displaying a dozen shades of gold.

“You are being overly dramatic.” Greene's disapproving grunt hummed in the air. “The chit is perfectly fine.”

With one fluid motion, Jonathon swung around, grabbed his father by the lapels and dragged him forward until their faces were inches apart. “Never come near my wife again. Do you understand?”

Greene's mouth went flat and hard, but he didn't struggle under Jonathon's hold. “There's no cause for violence. Your wife and I were having a pleasant conversation about the future.”

“What did you say to her?”

“If you would unhand me, we could speak as civilized human beings rather than back-alley brutes.”

The dig hit its mark, bringing up disturbing, dangerous images from his youth. Jonathon could feel his rage return, unraveling through him like a sticky spider web. But he was not the brute his father claimed. Not anymore. Violence was not a part of who he was now.

Filled with disgust for himself, as well as the man who'd sired him, he slowly, deliberately, released Green's coat and stepped back, palms raised in the air.

“Jonathon.” Fanny's sweet, lyrical voice came from behind him. “Take me home. Please, I want to go home.”

Over his shoulder, he looked at her, saw the plea in her gaze. But he wasn't through with his father.

“We will leave once the judge answers my question.” He turned back around and repeated, “What did you say to my wife?”

He wanted to know, but sensed the truth would enrage him further. The only words he'd caught—
arrogant, self-righteous chit
—had been enough to unleash his fury.

Eyebrows lifted in condescension, Greene straightened his jacket, tugged his waistcoat in place, then finally deigned to give a response. “I merely told her my plans for your—”

“Jonathon, please.” Fanny grabbed his arm. “It's not important what your father and I discussed. It means nothing.”

The look of distress in her gaze told its own story. Now he
knew
he wasn't going to like what his father had said to Fanny.

Jonathon returned his attention to Greene. “Continue.”

“I believe this conversation would be better served if we conduct it in a less unseemly environment. Let us follow your wife's suggestion.” Green spoke in the tone of a man used to giving orders and having them obeyed. “And congregate inside the comfort of your hotel.”

“We'll talk here.”

“Very well, if that is what you wish.”

“It is.”

With a murmur of assent, Greene nodded. “I was hoping your wife would speak to you on my behalf.”

“Why?”

For the first time the older man looked uneasy. “I wish to sit down and discuss the future of our family.”

Feeling cold as ice and empty as a moonless night, Jonathon demanded, “What about it?”

His eyes shifting right, then left, Greene hesitated, as if to gather his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice came out smooth and confident. “It is my deepest desire to claim your firstborn son as my heir.”

“No.”

“I'm afraid it is already done. I had my will rewritten a month ago. Your son will carry on my legacy through future generations.”

Legacy
. The word ricocheted through Jonathon's mind like a stray bullet. His skin burned beneath his clothes. This bland, lifeless emotion rolling through him was grief, grief for the life he and Fanny might have had if only Joshua Greene wasn't his father.

Jonathon knew what he had to do, had always known it would come to this. He'd fooled himself into believing otherwise.

“I vow, this very day, that your immoral, godless legacy will die with you.” He made the proclamation softly, his tone so low the judge had to lean in closer to hear him. “You will have no heir from me.”

“No.”
Fanny rushed to him. “No, Jonathon, do not say such a thing. Nothing has to be decided today.”

The decision had been made long before he'd met his beautiful wife.

“Let us be done with this conversation.” With her face leached of color, her brow creased in worry, she reached across the small divide between them and grabbed his hand, squeezing hard. “Come away with me now.”

Greene continued talking, spouting off the grand plans he had for Jonathon's future son. Jonathon tuned out the words and, hand in hand with Fanny, stepped out of the darkness.

The bright, afternoon sunlight brought no warmth to his cold soul. He felt hollow inside, a shell of a man sleepwalking through life.

They made their way down the street in silence, their steps slow. People strolled past them, moving and living at a different speed.

Mind numb, Jonathon looked down at Fanny, then at their joined hands. His heart gave a quick, extra hard thump. Barely three months earlier he'd vowed to love, cherish and protect this woman. In the days since, she'd filled his life to completion. Her smiles, her voice, her laughter...he couldn't get enough of them.

In her presence, he'd come to believe he could overcome his past. But his past had caught up with him today. In the form of a selfish man who would do whatever necessary to forward his own agenda.

“Fanny.” Hating that she'd witnessed the darker pieces of his soul, Jonathon released her hand. “What were you doing on the streets alone with my father?”

She lowered her head and sighed. “It was quite by accident, I assure you. I certainly never planned to run into him.”

“I never thought otherwise.”

She sighed again. “I wanted a bit of fresh air and so I went for a short walk. I'd barely left the hotel when he came up behind me.” She lifted her gaze, her face pulled in a delicate frown. “He must have been waiting for me. Or you.”

“I'm sorry he accosted you in public.”

“It would have been equally reprehensible in private.”

She released an unladylike sniff and increased her pace, all but stomping last night's snowfall into mush. “He looked rather terrible, as if he hasn't slept in weeks. Some dark part of my nature finds that quite heartening. But we won't discuss him anymore, at least not out here on the street.”

Smoothly assuming control, Fanny gripped Jonathon's hand again and pulled him through the entrance of the hotel.

A group of guests passed, looking curiously at their clasped hands. Neither of them broke stride.

Halfway through the lobby, Jonathon took over the lead. “We'll talk upstairs, where we won't be interrupted.”

“I was just about to suggest the same thing.”

They were stopped several times by staff with questions and concerns. Jonathon brushed the bulk of them off with a promise that he would be back in his office within the hour.

Neither he nor Fanny spoke again until they were alone in their suite.

While she discarded her coat, hat and gloves, Jonathon looked around the room. Fanny was everywhere, her personal touch apparent in the homey details she'd added to make the suite their home.

Fresh flowers spilled out of crystal vases. Light, airy watercolors by local artists covered the walls. A spattering of hairpins had been left on a side table. The novel Fanny had been reading last night before they'd retired for the evening sat open on the overstuffed settee.

He and Fanny had fallen into a happy rhythm that included work and laughter and joy.

Neither had realized they'd been living on borrowed time.

Heavyhearted, Jonathon walked slowly to the empty hearth, lowered himself to his haunches and began laying a fire.

“That can wait.”

His hands stilled over the logs, but he didn't rise to his feet.

With the grace that defined her, Fanny settled on the hearth rug beside him. She filled the moment with her scent, her soft smile. Her very presence wrapped around him like a warm hug.

“Talk to me, Jonathon.”

He worked his response around in his mind, considered each word carefully. “I think it's safe to say we will never be rid of my father. He is determined to tie his legacy into mine.”

Jonathon held Fanny's stare, willing her to understand the meaning behind his words.

She simply blinked at him.

“That is something that must never come to pass. Joshua Greene will not have the opportunity to poison another generation. I won't allow it.”

His bone-deep sorrow was mirrored on Fanny's face. “What...what are you saying?” she asked.

“I will not, under any inducement, father a child.”

* * *

Alarm shot through Fanny, making her head grow dizzy and her stomach churn. She was helpless when confronted with Jonathon's determined reasoning.

Joshua Greene will not have the opportunity to poison another generation
.

She searched desperately for a compelling argument to change her husband's mind. She couldn't think of one. It was an impossible situation, because a part of her understood—and sympathized—with Jonathon's decision.

But it was a decision made in the heat of the moment, after a very tense encounter.

“My father taught me that decisions must always be made from a place of strength, not emotion. Thus, we shall table this conversation until we are both feeling a little less emotional.”

Giving him no chance to argue, she hopped to her feet and brushed off her skirt. She managed to take one step, two. By the third, Jonathon's voice stopped her.

“I won't change my mind, Fanny. It is a decision I made long before I met you.”

She slowly pivoted around to meet his gaze. She found herself staring at his chest. When had he risen to his feet?

Craning her neck, she attempted her brightest smile. “Perhaps, one day, you will change your mind. I can be quite persuasive.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

His guard went up, the invisible wall between them as impenetrable as if constructed out of granite.

“I meant what I said. Judge Greene's wickedness will not influence another generation.”

“We will deny him access to our children.”

“He will find a way. Take, for example, today's sequence of events. He managed to get to you.”

She had no ready response.

Jonathon pounced on her momentary silence. “The only way to ensure he doesn't get to our children would be for us to move our main residence to another city. Are you willing to leave your home, your family,
your mother
so that we can have a family of our own?”

His voice sounded so empty, so devoid of emotion.

“We can find a way. With God all things are possible. We cannot let your father win. We can—”

“Can we?”

Fanny's heart dropped to her toes. Her husband had become an immovable force. What else could she say to sway him?

Nothing. There was nothing that would change his mind.

Her stomach took a sickening roll, the nausea so profound she had to take several breaths to keep from being sick. “Do you not want a child with me?”

He blew out a frustrated hiss of air.

Fanny used his brief silence to firm her own resolve. “Jonathon. Do you not want to see a child created from the both of us? Half you, half me, a human being uniquely made from our union?”

Such grief washed across his face Fanny thought he would capitulate rather than give in to the loss.

Any moment now, he would agree their child—the one only they could create together—was worth every risk, including the risk of his father's interference in their lives.

“You're right, Fanny. We should table this discussion. I have work waiting for me downstairs.”

Looking as miserable as she felt, he walked around her and headed to the foyer.

“Jonathon, wait.”

He paused, hand on the doorknob.

“Will you at least think about what I said?”

“My mind is made up.” Turning around slowly, he studied her with eyes she could not read. It had been months since he'd given her that impenetrable look.

“I will sire no children,” he said. “I told you this before we married.”

This time, Fanny didn't need to read his expression to know he wouldn't budge on the matter. She heard the stubborn resolve in his voice.

Well, she was a Mitchell. Stubbornness was a hereditary trait that came part and parcel with the name. “How will you prevent me from conceiving a child? Will you—”

He never let her finish. Moving with lightning speed, he closed the distance between them. She scarcely had time to breathe before she found herself enfolded in her husband's arms.

“I want a child with you, Fanny. I want an entire houseful. I want a family and a lifetime of happiness, but I
cannot
risk the possibility of Greene's poisonous influence on another generation.”

Hope burst in her heart.

She knew what to say. She
finally
knew exactly what to say. “You keep speaking of your father's influence. But he's had no bearing on who you've become. I have seen you in every situation imaginable. I know who you are when you're tired and pushed to the limit. I know who you are when you are feeling lighthearted and amused. I even know who you are when your family is threatened. I saw it today in that alley.”