by Renee Ryan
Fanny sighed. She adored her parents, and desperately wanted what they had—a blessed, godly marriage filled with laughter, loyalty and, of course, love.
As if sensing her gaze on him, her father smiled over at her and winked. Fanny barely had time to return the gesture before Jonathon whirled her in the opposite direction.
Her heart lifted and sighed with pleasure.
He took her through another spin, then slowed their pace. The smile he gave her nearly buckled her knees. “Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?”
“Yes, several times.”
“It bears repeating.”
She swallowed a nervous laugh. “You look quite handsome this evening yourself. Very elegant, very refined. I thoroughly approve of your attire.”
The tension in his shoulders immediately returned.
What had she said to put him on guard once again?
“Clothing can change a man’s appearance, but it cannot change his character.”
What an odd thing to say. Surely he wasn’t referring to himself. “I don’t quite know what you mean.”
His gaze connected with his father, who now stood just on the edge of the dance floor, watching them intently. “The inner man doesn’t always match the outer trappings.”
Ah, now she understood. “Don’t compare yourself to your father,” she ordered in a low, fierce tone. “You’re nothing like him.”
“You don’t know that, Fanny.”
“I know you. You’re kind and generous and—”
“You wouldn’t say that if you were privy to the things I’ve done in the past.” Pain and self-recrimination inhabited his eyes as he spoke.
She wanted to weep for the little boy who’d done whatever necessary to survive, for the young man who’d made questionable choices to pull himself out of poverty. “The past should be left in the past where it belongs.”
“Such innocence.” The tenderness in his smile nearly broke her heart. “There are some things that can’t be undone, Fanny, mistakes that can’t be forgotten.”
“You’re wrong, Jonathon. That’s the wonder of God’s grace. He knows what we’ve done and loves us anyway.”
Her partner opened his mouth to speak, probably to argue with her, but the music stopped.
Their steps slowly drew to a halt. By some unspoken agreement, they stayed linked in each other’s arms, neither moving, neither speaking. One heartbeat passed, then another, by the third Jonathon took a deliberate step back and offered her his arm.
She accepted the silent invitation without question.
In strained silence, he escorted her off the dance floor. Fanny hated the sudden shift in the mood between them. A sense of awkwardness had returned to their relationship.
Experiencing a desperate urge to put matters right, she made a bold request. “Would you care to join me outside on the terrace for some fresh air?”
For several endless seconds, he simply stared at her. She could see the silent battle waging within him. “That would be unwise.”
“Not if we stay in plain sight.” She spoke in a rush, then forced herself to slow down, to speak calmly. “We won’t be fully alone. People have been coming and going through the French doors all evening.”
He glanced at the wall of glass doors lining the balcony. He drew in a slow, steady breath and then nodded in agreement.
They made their way across the ballroom without speaking.
He paused at the exit, dropped his gaze over her silk gown. “You aren’t dressed for the weather.”
“I can tolerate a few moments in the cold.”
“That,” he said, shaking his head, “I won’t allow.”
He shrugged out of his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. The gesture was so thoughtful, so…Jonathon.
Tears burned in her throat. He was such a good man, down to his very core, generous in both deed and spirit. If only he would see himself the way she did.
Blinking back a wave of emotion, she pulled the jacket’s lapels together. Jonathon’s warmth instantly enveloped her.
She walked with him onto the terrace, then lifted her gaze to the heavens. The air was cool on her face, refreshing after the stifling atmosphere of the ballroom.
Several other couples meandered past them. Others leaned on the balcony’s railing. Caught up in their own conversations, none seemed to pay Fanny and Jonathon any notice.
She maneuvered past the bulk of the crowd, stopping at the edge of a tiny alcove at the end of the walkway. Though not completely hidden from sight, the small space afforded relative privacy.
Still, Jonathon took up a position at the railing.
Of course he would refuse to put her in a compromising position. Was it any wonder she admired this man?
Accepting the wisdom of the move, she joined him in the light, in full view of the ballroom, and anyone who cared to look. People always cared to look.
Something Fanny must keep in mind if she was to change the way society saw her.
Hard to do, when all she wanted was to be alone with the handsome, thoughtful, interesting man by her side.
*
Too late, Jonathon realized he’d made an error in judgment. He should never have agreed to escort Fanny outside. The intimacy of the moment was nearly too much to bear. Looking at her wrapped inside his jacket gave him all sorts of thoughts he shouldn’t be entertaining.
She was a beautiful woman and he a man just hitting his prime, a man with a tainted past and a host of bad choices behind him.
He’d like to think he’d grown wiser in the past few years. Clearly, he hadn’t. As evidenced by the fact that he was out on the terrace with Fanny.
Even if they stayed in the open, her reputation was at risk by simply being in his company. “Time to head back inside.”
He reached for her hand.
She skillfully sidestepped him. “I have something to say.”
Impatience slid through him. If they stayed away from the ballroom much longer, someone would come looking for them. “We can speak inside.”
“Please, Jonathon. I’ll be brief.”
“All right.” He made a grand show of putting a large amount of space between them. “I’m listening.”
She gave him a mildly scolding look. “How am I supposed to talk to you when you’ve put a giant chasm between us?”
“Three feet is not a giant chasm.”
“You’re missing the point.”
No, actually, she was missing the point. She, of all people, should know what was at stake if someone chose to misinterpret their little meeting out here on the terrace.
“Fanny, we can’t stay out here much longer. Our absence will soon be noticed, if it hasn’t been already.”
“You’re right, of course.” She handed him back his coat but made no move to return to the ballroom. “I’m sorry Judge Greene showed up tonight.”
Her words were steady, but her eyes spoke of her distress. So much sorrow, sorrow for him.
Had anyone ever cared for him that much? His mother, of course. Marc and Laney. A piteously small number of people, to be sure. “It’s not your fault, Fanny. You didn’t invite him.”
“I didn’t try to uninvite him, either.”
She truly cared about him. The selfish part of Jonathon longed to bask in such favor. A dangerous prospect.
He had nothing to give her beyond material things. Fanny deserved more than pretty trinkets. And Jonathon wanted to give her more. But if he let down his guard, enough to explore the feelings he already had for her, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t ultimately hurt her.
He couldn’t risk causing her harm.
“You shouldn’t be out here with me.”
“Why not?”
“Your reputation—”
She cut him off with a delicate sniff. “My reputation was put into question long before you and I…”
Her words trail off, as if she wasn’t sure what they were to one another.
He was
n’t sure, either.
“Let’s go back inside.”
She remained rooted to the spot. “I haven’t had my say.”
“Then by all means carry on, but quickly.”
“You aren’t your father, nor are you going to turn out like him. I have faith in you. You should have faith in yourself.”
Her conviction shook Jonathon to the core. He hadn’t expected this unwavering defense of his character. “What if you’re wrong about me?”
“What if I’m right?”
For a dangerous moment, he allowed her certainty to sink past his cynicism, to permeate all the reasons he’d kept his distance from her.
“Yes, Jonathon, you started out life with the odds stacked against you. Of course you made mistakes, and a few bad choices. Haven’t we all? What matters is who you are today, not who you once were.”
She pulled his hand to her face, sighed into his palm.
Mesmerized, he could only stare. The smooth skin of her cheek felt like silk against his roughened hand.
He might not be able to give her what she wanted, what she needed, but he couldn’t seem to walk away. He couldn’t even pull his hand away from her face.
He stared at her, thinking…maybe. Maybe…
“Fanny.” He said her name in a low growl. The sound came from deep within his soul, dangerous and full of warning. “Don’t romanticize who I am beneath the fancy evening attire. You’re looking at me from the goodness of your heart, not the reality of mine.”
“You’re wrong.” She lifted her head. Her eyes were filled with warmth and affection.
His heart soared.
This woman could rescue me. He shoved away the reckless thought. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“I could make you happy.”
Yes, he thought, she could. But he might very well destroy her in the process. She mattered too much to take the chance. “You want a conventional marriage. You want a happy, normal home full of children. And I want those things for you, too.”
“But not with you.”
The look of shattered dreams swimming in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. “You know why.”
“Why must you persist in thinking you’ll become your father?” She practically hissed out the words, her tone fierce, her face a little ruthless. “Why? When evidence to the contrary is in everything you do?”
“Joshua Greene and I share the same blood.”
“There are other examples in your life. Men who’ve mentored you. Marc Dupree, for instance. And, of course, there’s the best example of all, our Heavenly Father.”
There it was again, that unfailing faith in him. She couldn’t know how badly he wanted to be the man she deserved.
In that instant, he allowed himself to believe in the impossible. “I like the man I see in your eyes.”
He closed the distance between them, but still had the sense not to take her into his arms. A slight movement on his part, a shift on hers, and their lips would meet. He shouldn’t kiss her. It would be the same as making a promise.
A promise he couldn’t keep.
When clouds covered the moon, casting them in shadow, he didn’t have the strength to push her away. The inevitability of this moment had been coming on for months.
There was still one small hope left. “Go back inside, Fanny, before I do something you’ll regret.”
Showing the stubborn streak he’d once admired, she stayed firmly rooted to the spot. “I’m perfectly happy right where I am.”
A man could take only so much temptation.
Jonathon placed his hands on her shoulders, prayed for the strength to set her away from him.
“Leave me, Fanny.” He gritted out the order through clenched teeth.
“Oh, Jonathon.”
The way she said his name, so soft, so full of affection, he wanted to—
Suddenly, she cupped his face and pulled his head down to hers. At the same instant, he drew her against him. Inevitable. The word echoed in his mind.
The moment their lips touched, he was lost.
Inevitable.
By sheer willpower, he kept the kiss light, still on the edge of friendly, but barely. He tore his mouth free and lifted his head to stare into her eyes.
She blinked up at him in wonder. He’d done that to her. He’d put that dreamy look in her gaze. He was too much of a man not find satisfaction in that.
With his hands still on her shoulders, his breathing as unsteady as hers, he said, “We must get back.”
She didn’t argue the point. “Yes.”
At the same time she lowered her hands from his face, he attempted to release his hold on her shoulders.
Only one of his hands came away. The other, or rather, his cuff link, was caught in her hair. He tugged as gently as possible. They remained connected.
He tugged again.
“Oh!” she cried out. “You…your sleeve…it’s—”
“—stuck in your hair.”
He reached up with his free hand.
Her instinctive flinch only managed to twine her hair more securely around his cuff link. “Hold still.”
“I’m trying.”
Additional clouds moved in, swallowing what was left of the already meager light. Jonathon leaned in for a better look.
With his forehead practically pressed against Fanny’s ear, he was finally able to discern that her hair had curled around his cuff link in a counterclockwise fashion. “I see the problem.”
He slowly, carefully, unraveled each strand.
Just as he managed to pull his hand away, a female gasp sounded from behind him—followed by a distressingly familiar giggle.
He knew that sound. One of the silly Ferguson sisters stood at his back. The question was, how much had she seen?
The giggle turned into two, interspersed with titters, followed by overexcited, feverish whispering.
Both Ferguson sisters had come upon him and Fanny.
Jonathon told himself to remain calm. The shadows may have sufficiently hidden them from sight, or at least covered their identities.
Bracing himself for the worst, he gave Fanny an apologetic grimace, then pivoted to face the consequences of his actions.
His gaze fell on empty air.
Whoever had come upon them was now gone.
He turned back to Fanny. “I’m sorry.”
Her lips quivered. “We are both to blame, I more than you, since I initiated our kiss.”
Wishing he could take back the last half hour—not for his benefit but for hers—he refused to let her feel a moment of guilt.
“No, Fanny, the blame falls solely on my shoulders. I should not have escorted you outside. I should have at least insisted we return to the ballroom sooner.”
She didn’t immediately respond. With her finger tapping her chin in thoughtful reflection, she glanced to her right, then to her left. “You know, the Ferguson sisters may not have any idea who it was they interrupted. We may yet be safe.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed, although he didn’t hold out much hope for that, especially since he and Fanny would be returning to the ballroom together. He would not allow her to face alone whatever censure awaited them. He would stand by her side and assume the bulk of the blame.
He feared his efforts wouldn’t be enough. Fanny’s reputation would soon be in tatters. At a time when she’d nearly broken free of the previous scandal, she would once again be the center of ugly gossip.
Mere days ago, Jonathon had promised himself his legacy would be different from his father’s. He’d vowed no woman would suffer because of his actions. Now, because of his actions, the one woman he most wanted to protect was good and truly ruined.
As far as he was concerned, that didn’t make him as bad as his father.
It made him worse.
Chapter Seven
Fanny held Jonathon’s unwavering gaze with one of her own. As a matter of honor, she refused to be the first to look away. Because she watched him
so attentively, she knew the precise moment their relationship took another critical turn. There was an invisible link between them now.
The anxiety roiling in her stomach calmed, then returned full force when Fanny thought of her mother. Mary Mitchell was just beginning to manage her devastating illness. Would another scandal attached to her daughter’s name stifle her efforts? The doctor had warned that stress worsened the asthma attacks.
Something dark moved through Fanny, something that felt like guilt, or perhaps even shame. It appalled her to feel tears gathering in her eyes. She hadn’t once thought of her mother when she’d convinced Jonathon to leave the ballroom, nor when she’d coaxed him farther along the terrace, and certainly not when she’d kissed him.
Jonathon had tried to send her back into the safety of the ballroom. Instead of heeding his warning, she’d dragged his head down to hers and melded their mouths together.
She was not innocent. She was not good. She’d earned every bit of the censure awaiting her in the ballroom.
To think, but a few hours ago, Fanny had convinced herself tonight would change the way people in town saw her. She’d certainly accomplished her objective. Clearly, she’d learned nothing from her past mistakes. Now others would suffer the consequences of her actions. Her mother. Jonathon. The rest of her family.
What have I done?
Another spurt of guilt squeezed the breath from her lungs. “I am completely at fault,” she choked out between inhalations.
“Not completely, no.” Jonathon’s deep voice poured warmth over her cold heart. “We share the blame, and will face the consequences together, no matter how dire or life-altering.”
He did not say marriage, but he was thinking it. The evidence was there, in the grim twist of his lips and the stern set of his shoulders.
She’d dragged this man to a place he’d vowed never to go.
What have I done?
“Come.” He tugged her toward the ballroom. “Time to face the good people of Denver.”
He guided her to the very edge of the French doors. A few more steps and they would cross over the threshold, into a future neither of them truly wanted.
The faint strains of a waltz floated out of the ballroom. One, two, three. One, two, three. The notes were simple in structure, but a mockery of the complex emotions pulling at her composure.
