Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (21 page)

She was carrying Jonathon's child.

Just for a moment, she let herself revel in the wonder of it. Her eyes filled with tears. She'd been doing that a lot lately, getting overly emotional over the tiniest things.

A baby is not a tiny thing
.

No, a child was a blessing straight from God.

How would Jonathon take the news? Would he think she'd done this on purpose, to trap him?

The first tendril of anguish twined through her happiness.

“...and it's such a beautiful spring day.” Callie's voice came at Fanny as if from a great distance. “Let's head outdoors and enjoy the living harmony of—”

She broke off and rushed to Fanny.

“What's wrong? You've grown pale as chalk.”

“I...I need to sit down.”

Callie guided her to the chair behind her desk. “I'll get you some water.”

“No.” Fanny stopped her. “I just need a moment to catch my breath. While I do, would you describe again what you experienced during the early months after you realized you were carrying Reese's child?”

“Are you...” Callie's hand flew to your mouth. “Fanny, do you think you're—”

“You said you were tired a lot? And could stomach only weak tea and toast.”

Eyes wide with mounting excitement, Callie nodded. “There were other symptoms, as well.”

“Such as...?”

Blushing furiously, she explained about the physical changes in her body, changes Fanny had experienced but had thought were due to the strain of her husband's extended absence.

“Oh, Callie. I...I think I'm going to have Jonathon's baby.”

“Why, that's wonderful news.” Her sister hopped to her feet and pulled her into a fierce hug.

Tears of joy, of fear, of wonder formed in Fanny's eyes and spilled over in a choking sob.

“Do you know what this means?” Callie twirled away from her. “Our children will grow up together. They will be as close as siblings.”

“That...” Fanny snuffled into a handkerchief “...sounds perfectly delightful.”

She only hoped Jonathon agreed.

Chapter Twenty-One

J
onathon arrived back at the Denver Hotel Dupree in the middle of the night. He'd been gone fifteen and a half days, which by his estimation was fifteen days too many. It had taken the cleanup crews longer to repair the damage to the hotel than he'd have liked. But construction was finally back on schedule, putting them only two weeks behind their original opening date.

The consequences of the water pipe bursting could have been worse, he knew, and could have kept him away from Fanny for months. But he was home now, home being wherever his beautiful wife laid her head. He'd meant to send her a wire warning of his arrival, just as he'd promised. But he'd been too eager to get home to stop at the telegraph office in San Francisco.

Jonathon let himself quietly into the suite, keeping his movements light, quick and methodical, so as not to wake Fanny.

Fanny
.

His wife. His love.

His heart.

He needed her in his life. The days away from her had been torture.

Would he eventually destroy her? Or could he find a way to be a blessing in her life, as she was in his?

Unsure of the reception he would receive, especially at this hour, he went into his dressing room and took his time unpacking his valise. He could easily afford to hire someone to do these types of menial tasks, but he never wanted to forget his humble roots. Ironic, since he'd nearly allowed himself to forget the most important influences in his life.

Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out the photograph of the original Hotel Dupree that Marc had given him on the morning of his wedding.
A reminder of where you really come from.

Jonathon came from poverty. His mother had been a prostitute, his father an adulterer. But their influence had only partly made him into the man he was today. Marc Dupree had influenced him, as well. He'd taught him that character was the sum total of choices and habits.

Jonathon had a big choice before him. He could break the cycle of sin rampant in his family, or he could succumb to fear and live half a life.

He needed to see Fanny.

Assuming she'd been upset enough to separate herself from him, he checked the bedroom he'd given her on their wedding night. She wasn't there.

Lord, let this be a good sign. Let her be in the room we've shared since our wedding night.

His confidence grew, but was immediately replaced with dread. He'd boarded the train to San Francisco with matters between them unsettled.
Badly done, Hawkins
.

If Fanny had moved out of their home, he had only himself to blame.

He couldn't let her go. If she wasn't in this suite, he would find her and bring her back.

He moved to his bedroom, paused in the doorway and found himself struggling for every breath. He knew this sensation. It was the feeling of a narrow escape.

Bathed in a ribbon of moonlight, Fanny slept in his bed—
their
bed—in the spot Jonathon usually occupied, as if she wanted to be close to him even in his absence.

His heart swelled.

Barely able to move under the weight of pleasure that gripped him, he entered the room slowly and stepped to the end of the bed.

For several long breaths, he merely watched his wife slumber. Her long hair was fanned out across the pillow beneath her head. The golden waves appeared silver in the pale moonlight.

She was curled up like a cat, her hand resting protectively over her stomach.

This is what she will look like carrying my child
.

The thought slipped through his mind with quiet ease.

In that moment, Jonathon admitted how deeply in love he was with his wife. Fanny had changed everything. He wondered what his life would be like without her in it. The thought was too dismal to contemplate.

After the wedding ceremony, her father had taken Jonathon aside for some friendly marital advice. Cyrus Mitchell had told him that the measure of a happy marriage is what a husband is willing to give up for his wife.

At the time, Jonathon hadn't fully understood what his father-in-law meant. Now, he knew. Love called for sacrifice. In San Francisco, Jonathon had come to the realization the he was willing to sacrifice anything, everything, for Fanny.

She wanted a child, the child only they could create together. Could Jonathon sacrifice his doubts and fears in order to give her what she wanted?

If love called for sacrifice, then faith called for surrender. Did Jonathon have the courage to surrender his fears, his very will and release the future into God's hands?

He didn't know.

Rubbing his palm across his tired, gritty eyes, he decided now was not the time for deep thinking. He needed sleep.

No, he needed his wife.

He sat on the bed and brushed her hair off her face. “Fanny, my love, I'm home.”

Slowly, she came awake.

“Jonathon?” Her sooty eyelashes blinked in confusion. “Is it really you?”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Shh, go back to sleep.”

As if he hadn't spoke at all, she sat up, scrubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Just past midnight.”

“Oh.” She hid a yawn behind her hand. “I... Did I know you were coming home tonight?”

She yawned again. It was then he noticed the purple shadows beneath her eyes, shadows that came from too many sleepless nights.

“Lie down.” He set his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down on the bed. “We'll talk in the morning.”

She didn't argue, but settled her head atop the pillow. A little hum of pleasure rumbled in her throat.

“If this is only a dream,” she mumbled, “and you really aren't here with me...” her eyelashes fluttered closed “...then don't wake me again.”

Within seconds her breathing evened out.

Jonathon leaned over and kissed her again, on her forehead, her cheek, her lips.

“I love you,” he said to her sleeping form, promising himself he would say the words again when she was fully awake.

* * *

Fanny awoke to a cold, empty bed. Remembering the events of the night before, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked around.

Jonathon had come home.

Or had he?

She searched the room, looking for signs of his presence. Quickly donning her robe, she searched the bedroom, then Jonathon's dressing room.

The smell of strong coffee and the crisp sound of newspaper pages turning had her padding barefoot into the main living area of the suite. She drew in a quick, happy sigh at the familiar scene.

Jonathon sat behind the
Denver Chronicle
, completely hidden from her view. Before him, the table was laden with a large tray of eggs and bacon, buttered croissants and all manner of pastries.

The combination of scents made her stomach churn.

Bracing herself against the door frame, Fanny placed a hand over her mouth and willed her stomach to calm.

Once she had the nausea under control, she slowly, carefully, lowered her hand. “Good morning, Jonathon.”

The newspaper immediately dropped to the table. “Good morning.”

For a long moment, she drank in the sight of her husband, already dressed impeccably for the day. He looked so handsome, his gaze more approachable than when he'd left town. She'd missed him terribly and couldn't think why she shouldn't tell him so. “I'm glad you're home.”

“I missed you, Fanny.”

That was all it took. Desperate for her husband, she was across the room in a handful of steps. He was up on his feet in the time it took her to get to him.

And then they were embracing as if they'd been apart an entire year rather than a few weeks.

They talked over one another, alternating between apologies and kisses.

Laughing, they separated at last.

He cupped her face in his hands and simply gazed into her eyes. Love swelled in her heart and she felt her knees tremble. Then, to her horror, little spots played before her eyes.

She was going to faint. No, much worse, she was going to be sick. She swallowed, but the nauseating sensation only strengthened.

“Fanny. What's wrong?” Jonathon moved his hands to her shoulders. “Color is draining out of your face right before my eyes.”

“I...feel...sick.” She'd barely gotten the words out of her mouth before bile rose into her throat.

She rushed to the water basin.

Jonathon was by her side in an instant, rubbing her back and whispering soothing words. Her dignity hanging by a thread, she attempted to straighten.

“No, stay there a moment.” Working quickly, as if he'd done this before, he dipped a linen napkin in a glass of water on the table and placed it over the back of her neck.

The cool relief brought tears to her eyes.

“There now,” he soothed. “Let's get you seated.”

With a gentle yet firm grip he guided her to a chair far too near the breakfast table. One inhalation and she was back at the basin again.

Again, Jonathon placed the cold, wet cloth on her neck.

“The food,” she gasped. “Get it out of here. The smell is making me ill.”

He gave her an odd look but did as she requested.

Once the room was empty of the offensive odors, Jonathon sat beside her and searched her face. “Are you still feeling sick?”

She nodded.

His expression filled with masculine concern.

“Don't worry.” She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “It'll pass by early afternoon.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“I have been having bouts of queasiness every day since you left, but only in the mornings.”

Her heart dropped as she watched understanding dawn on his face. “You are—”

“—with child. Yes, Jonathon, I am carrying your baby.”

She saw the shock in his eyes, and then the fear. “You are certain?”

“Yes.” She lowered her gaze and plucked at the lace trim on her sleeve. “Dr. Shane confirmed it last week.”

“I have to go.” Jonathon stood abruptly.

“Don't you want to discuss this? I just told you I'm with child,
your child
.”

“Believe me, Fanny, I want to discuss this at great length. But I have something I must take care of first.”

Risking another bout of nausea, she jumped to her feet and laid her head on his chest.

He smoothed his hand across her hair, the stroke as gentle as a whisper. She felt weak from her last bout of sickness and so terribly desperate. She wanted to fight for Jonathon, for the future of their marriage, but she feared she would somehow push him away if she said too much.

But what if she didn't say enough?

Clutching at his shirt, she whispered the truth in her heart. “I love you.”

His chest tensed beneath her cheek, but he didn't say the words back. He didn't say anything at all.

Terrified of what she would find, she carefully stepped back and looked into Jonathon's face.

Fear rose up to choke her. A stranger stood before her.

“Are you not happy with the news?”

“Of course I'm happy.”

His closed expression belied his words. From the start of their acquaintance, he'd warned Fanny he didn't want children.

She'd ignored his wishes, thinking she could one day change his mind, and now,
now
, she'd trapped him with the very thing he least wanted in this world.

Her hand instinctively covered her stomach in a protective gesture. Jonathon's gaze followed the movement.

After releasing a slow exhale, he said, “I'll be back shortly.”

Dread burned in her throat. “Where...where are you going?”

Jonathon set out across the room, wrenched open the door and then looked at her over his shoulder. “To my father's.”

His father's
? “But...but why?”

“I must ensure our child is protected from my past.” The steel of his determination was threaded in his voice. “There is only one way.”

“What are you going to do?” She was talking to an empty room, with nothing but the slam of the door reverberating off the walls.