by Renee Ryan
It was baby season in the Mitchell clan. And Fanny couldn’t help but yearn.
Her stomach performed a sickening roll. Suddenly, her office felt small and overly hot. This wasn’t the first time she’d felt the sensation. Over the past week, Fanny had battled bouts of queasiness at the oddest moments. Perhaps she was coming down with something. The flu had been making its rounds through the hotel staff.
Her head grew light. She needed to breathe in fresh air. Maybe she could entice Jonathon to join her for a brief stroll.
Swallowing back a wave of dizziness, she stood, left her office and made her way to Jonathon’s. She found his assistant standing in the doorway, nose buried in the notepad he kept with him always.
“Is he in?” she inquired.
Burke Galloway looked up. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hawkins, you just missed him. He had a meeting at Mr. Bennett’s office across town.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Before they’d left their suite this morning, Jonathon had mentioned having an appointment with Reese concerning a recent land acquisition.
“Was there anything I could do for you?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Galloway. I’ll come back later.”
Still feeling a bit light-headed, Fanny decided to take a short walk, anyway. After retrieving her coat and gloves, she left the hotel through the front doors and breathed in the cool air. Lifting her face to the sky, she concentrated on the glorious blue overhead. Her nausea almost immediately disappeared.
Just as she lowered her gaze, a masculine voice reached her ears. “Miss Mitchell, may I join you on your walk?”
A prickle of unease navigated up her spine. “I am Mrs. Hawkins now.”
“Of course, my apologies. May I join you on your stroll…Mrs. Hawkins?” As he made his request a second time, Jonathon’s father stood unmoving. The air around him crackled with arrogance.
Lowering her lashes to cover her surprise at his sudden appearance, Fanny couldn’t help but wonder what Judge Greene wanted with her. Even acknowledging him made her feel as though she was betraying Jonathon.
But when she looked more closely, she saw the signs of strain on the judge’s face. He looked older and somehow less sure of himself, despite the arrogant tilt of his head. From what Fanny had heard, he was still holding to his story that he’d only recently learned that Jonathon was his son.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him what she truly thought of him. But then she remembered the portion of the Bible she’d read just this morning during her daily quiet time. The Lord commanded His children to love their enemies.
She should at least give it a try. But, truly, it was times such as these that Fanny wished she didn’t know Scripture quite so well.
Jaw tight, she gave a short nod. “You may have five minutes of my time.”
“Thank you, my dear.”
Love thy enemy, she reminded herself.
Her clenched jaw began to ache.
The judge gestured with his hand for her to continue walking. When she did, he fell into step beside her.
She could not fault his manners.
Gaze locked on the mountains in the distance, she expected him to speak. Surprising her yet again, he seemed content to walk beside her in silence.
She was not so patient.
Fanny stopped, waited for him to do the same, before saying, “State your business, Judge Greene.”
“I have a request to make of you, Mrs. Hawkins.”
She pursed her lips into what she hoped was a bored expression. “I’m listening.”
“I wish to make amends with my son.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he lifted an elegantly clad shoulder. “He refuses to speak with me, no matter how many overtures I make. I have come to ask you to intercede for me.”
Shocked by his colossal nerve, she stared at him. “You cannot be serious.”
“I assure you, I am.” He crowded her as he spoke, moving around her like a hawk circling its prey.
She backed up a step, and another, and then several more, until she found herself against a brick wall.
“Even if I had the sort of influence on my husband you seem to think, I would never wield it in such a manner. I am sorry, Judge Greene, you are on your own.”
“All I’m asking is that you drop a kind word on my behalf.”
She dismissed his request with a delicate sniff. “You ask too much.”
“It is but one small kindness.”
Did he not recognize the hypocrisy in his words? “Where was your kindness to my husband when he was a boy and came to you for help?”
The judge quirked an eyebrow at her. “I see my son has told you much.”
“Jonathon has told me enough to know you showed him no compassion when he was in need. Yet you ask me for the very consideration you refused to give him.” She realized that she could not love this particular enemy, no matter how hard she tried. “We are through here. I wish you a good day.”
She started to push around him.
He stepped directly in her path. “I need an heir.”
“You have an heir.”
“Joshua is a disappointment. I have tried to contain his excesses. I have forbidden him to carry on with his mistress, yet he continues and has even produced an illegitimate child. I will not encourage his willful disobedience any longer.” A muscle worked in the judge’s jaw. “I have cut him off, once and for all.”
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
Jonathon 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.”
&n
bsp; “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.”
