Page 85 of Captured By the Billionaire Cowboy
You.One word, three letters, a thousand implications. He had purposely excluded himself. Did this man, who loved his family so deeply, who cared for his horses, for strangers, for everyone, with such grace, responsibility and kindness, not see himself as a father?
Do not say anything. Do not venture into turbulent waters.And yet… “A child would be lucky to have you as a father.” The words were said lightly, a breath above a whisper, as if their quietness could hide their import, or their ramifications.
Shadows overtook his expression, hauntings from the past, as he broke her gaze. He studied the window beyond her,the pure blackness of night. A thousand moments of silence screamed, and then. “I won’t have children, Ciara.”
“What?” The word slipped through her lips, unable to be stopped. She could take it back, or at least temper it with a light, cavalier comment. Yet a thousand questions redefined her past, present and future. She had to ask at least one. “What are you saying?”
He froze, his nostrils flaring, as he took a steadying breath to rival hers. Was he searching for the answer – or how to share it? For a moment it seemed the former, yet then his features set, a twisting of resignation, sorrow and hollowness. “It is how it must be.”
“How it must be?” A chill traced her spine. “Do you mean you can’t–”
“No, nothing like that,” he interrupted sharply. He released a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be curt. I havedecidednot to be a father.”
Oh.
She fisted the sheets under her, twisting their smoothness into dense wrinkles. The fabric crinkled under her pale hands. “I don’t understand. You’re so good with your brothers, I just assumed–” She allowed her voice to trail off, as her future skidded off the tracks, tumbling just before the finish line. He didn’t want kids.
She had never imagined a future without them.
“It is not that I don’t want kids.” His features were tight, taut,tortured. “I just can’t.”
What?“I don’t understand. You said it was your decision.”
“Yes, because it is the responsible decision.” His voice was calm, emotionless, yet an edge belied the even tone, a sliver of pain simmering just below the surface. “You know what my father was like… what I’m like. How could I have children?”
She opened and closed her fists, splaying her palms across the sheets. “What does your father have to do with you having children?”
“My father never should’ve had children.”
It was blunt, frank and inescapably true. Rowan’s father hadn’t been fit to raise horses, much less children. Yet Rowan was the antithesis of his sire, kindness to cruelty, graciousness to greediness. “I will not argue that your father wasn’t difficult, or that he shouldn’t have been a dad, although I am forever grateful he was.” A ghost of a smile appeared and disappeared. “However, I’ve seen you interact with children. You’d be a fantastic father.”
For a moment, longing sparked in his features, an intense desire peeking out from behind the mask. In the next, it vanished, replaced by steel resolve. “You’ve seen how I am with my brothers, with the business, with everyone. I cannot just be one of them. I am like my father.”
Her heart lurched. How could this kind man believe he was anything like the heartless, cruel tyrant who raised him? If only he could see himself through her eyes. “Your actions prove otherwise. You give so much to everything and everyone. You are the literal opposite of that man.”
He broke her gaze. “You do not know the true me.”
“Clearly, I know you better than you know yourself,” she countered. “You wear this façade, this picture of the perfect man, yet underneath you possess such strong emotions, and kindness. You are light to his darkness, kindness to his cruelty. You would treat children as you treat your horses, with affection and lo–”
“Don’t say it.” The harsh words chilled the air, the frigid despondency of hopelessness. “I am incapable of such feelings. I shouldn’t have allowed this to happen, and yet I couldn’t let you go, not again. You deserve a man who feels emotions, who can give you a dozen children. And I’m– I’m–”
“You’re an amazing man.” She grasped his hands. “Why can’t you see the truth? You can have everything you desire.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was tightly controlled, yet anguish rumbled underneath, wrenching pain. “I cannot risk being a father.”
She jerked back. “That proves you are nothing like him. Your father didn’t care that he harmed others. He did as he wished, no matter the consequences. However misguided, you are willing to sacrifice yourself, yet it isn’t necessary. You are already the man you need to be.” She peered into stubborn eyes, willed him to believe it. “You have such strong emotions. Let yourself feel them.”
“I can’t.” The words were hollow this time, as if all emotion had been sucked away, forced from existence. He was trying to prove it to himself, and give up what he deserved. Was this the moment history repeated, when he once again broke her heart? At least he’d told her a reason this time, yet it emerged from a fallacy, the result of a scarred childhood. After all these years, his father still stole from him, and the cost had never been greater:His future.
What was she going to do? It would be different if he simply didn’t want children. If he made the decision they were not right for him. Yet he’d admitted he wanted them.
“You have to be a mother.”
She looked up sharply at the truth she could never deny. Would they lose everything, not because of a difference of wants or needs, but because he couldn’t see beyond his own facade? Wetness flooded her eyes, as she turned away. She couldn’t be here, not now, not with him. She twisted to the edge of the bed.
Just as a frantic knock splintered the silence.
Ciara started at the banging, rapid and loud, against the bedroom door. It sounded again almost immediately, and thencontinuously. The clock showed after midnight, far too late for any visitors… except an emergency.
