Page 22 of Captured By the Billionaire Cowboy
“That’s wonderful.” They were testing the horses well-suited for riding, and King was at the top of the list. It would be far easier to find homes for horses that could be ridden, since that was why most people purchased horses. “No doubt he’ll soon be outracing the best of them. We’ll have to find an owner who can give him a lot of exercise.”
“Actually, I’m thinking about keeping him.”
“Really?” She leaned against a tree, its soft foliage a pillow against her back. “I didn’t know you were looking for a horse. He must have made quite an impression.”
“He’s fine,” he gave the apathetic response, emotionless and impassive, as if it didn’t matter at all. A breeze of sorrow whispered through her. Why couldn’t he just admit he cared for something?
Someone?
“I left him outside because I didn’t want to make Jasmine nervous,” Rowan quickly went on. “He’s happily drinking from the spring. How is Jasmine doing?”
She glanced at her equine friend. The skittish animal snorted and stomped, exuding nervous energy. “She’s okay. The noise stressed her a bit.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” She touched his arm softly, instinctively. Corded bicep flexed beneath the linen shirt, defined power and strength. She swiftly retreated, focusing her attention back to the horse. “She needs to learn the difference between real and imagined threats. Hopefully she’ll stop overreacting in time.”
“If anyone can help her, it’s you.” He pivoted around the breathtaking garden. “I still can’t believe this place is exactly the same.” He stopped, lowered his voice to a murmur. “Some things never change.”
Her breath caught. Was he referring to the garden… or something else?
He captured her in his gaze, in the thrall of those gorgeous sapphire eyes. Amidst magical surroundings, it would be easy to surrender to emotions, to unnamed feelings and endless urges. But reality’s cost was too great. She had to resist.
“This hasn’t changed.” She moved forward through the lush surroundings, smoothed her hand over the weathered bark of a tree where initials were carved into the wood. “Do you recall how we used to make up stories about the mysterious C and F?”
Now he grinned. “You insisted they were pirates who buried their treasure underneath the geraniums.”
“And you thought they were foreign spies battling an evil mastermind.” She gestured dramatically. “You claimed they built the garden to hide their secret lair. We spent hours looking for a hidden passageway.”
“It still could be true,” he drawled. “I’d say the odds are at least fifty-fifty.”
She laughed. “That was quite an elaborate story. You even gave the villain a name. What was it again?”
He instantly sobered. “Who knows? It was long ago and–”
“Miles!” she exclaimed in triumph. “You dubbed the evil mastermind Miles.” Her breath hitched. “Your dad’s name was Miles.”
He didn’t say anything, yet no admission was necessary. Of course, the villain had been named for his father. Rowan may have been flush with money, wealth and power, but she was the truly rich one. He received so little love, while she lived surrounded by it. “I’m sorry.”
He looked up sharply, and somehow she knew he was going to mask his feelings again. To pretend he didn’t know why she was sorry, or why it even mattered. It was what Rowan did. Power against obstacles, a solid steel front against the world. “It was a long time ago.”
But it mattered. She couldn’t change the past, yet maybe she could give him a little of what he lost as a child. Even after all that had happened, it still seemed right.
She would start by simply being his friend.
“You’re not like him, you know.”
He stiffened. “What?”
For a moment, the neutral mask slipped, replaced by pure emotion. She shouldn’t intrude, shouldn’t say anything, yet beneath the façade something raw blazed, pain no amount of years could erase. She continued in a low, even voice, “You’re not your dad. The kindness you’ve shown to me, to others without them even realizing it, is amazing. You’re not him, not even close.”
“My father just wanted me to be strong.” He waved his hand, yet the words were forced, the tone tight. His dad was far worse than a stern man. She’d literally never seen him perform an act of kindness.
She didn’t break his gaze. “Youarestrong.”
“Am I?” His stance softened, his features easing, as she fought not to blush. She might as well have called him a hunk.Again.
“Umm, yes? I have another theory about the initials,” she hurried out. “What if they were time-travelers from the future, and they came back to enjoy a real vacation? You see in the future, everyone has perfect teeth, so they don’t have the luxury of dental vacations.”
