Marriage Without Love & More Than a Convenient Marriage(77)

He would give anything to spare her this anguish.

“Having children was a condition that came from your side of the table. It’s not a deal-breaker for me,” he reassured her.

If anything, she grew more distraught. “You never wanted children?”

Tread lightly, he cautioned himself, touching a thoughtful tongue to his bottom lip. “It’s not that I never wanted them. If that were true, I’d be a real monster for putting you through all you’ve suffered in trying to have one. I’m very—” Disappointed wasn’t a strong enough word.

“I’m sad,” he admitted, drawing his hand back as he took the uncharacteristic step of admitting to feelings. He’d been powerless at sea in a storm once and hadn’t felt as helpless and vulnerable as he had each time she’d miscarried. This one he’d learned about today was the worst yet, filling him with visions of coming upon her dead. It was too horrifying a thing to happen to a person even once in a lifetime and he’d been through it twice already. He couldn’t stomach thinking of finding her lifeless and white.

Then there was the bereft sense of loss that he’d known nothing about the baby before it was gone. He hated having no control over the situation, hated being unable to give her something she wanted that seemed as if it should be so simple. He hated how the whole thing stirred up old grief. He ought to be over forming deep attachments. He’d certainly fought against developing any. But he wished he’d known those babies and felt cheated that he hadn’t been given the chance.

He swiped his clammy palm down his thigh.

“I’m sad, too,” she whispered thickly, gaze fixed on her sweating glass of ice water. “I wanted a family. A real one, not a broken one like I had.”

“So, it wasn’t just pressure from your father to give him the heir your brothers weren’t providing?”

She made a motion of negation, mouth pouted into sorrow.

Damn, he swore silently, thinking his version of her as merely ticking children off the list with everything else would have been so much easier to navigate.

“I thought you were like my father, not really wanting a family, but determined to have an heir. A boy.” Of course, her tiny shrug added silently.

He could see wary shadows in her eyes as she confessed what had been in her mind. She wasn’t any more comfortable with being honest than he was. He sure as hell didn’t enjoy hearing her unflattering assessment of his attitude toward progeny.

“I wasn’t taking it that lightly,” he said, voice so tight she tensed. “But I didn’t know how much it meant to you.”

Any other time in his life he would have swiftly put an end to such a deeply personal conversation, but right now, unpleasant as it was, he had to allow Adara to see she wasn’t the only one hurt by this. She wasn’t the only one with misconceptions.

“I never knew my father, so that gave me certain reservations about what kind of parent I’d make. You’re not anything like my mother, which is a very good thing in most ways, but she did have a strong maternal instinct. I never saw you take an interest in other people’s children. Your family isn’t the warmest. Frankly, I expected you to schedule a C-section, hire a nanny and mark that task ‘done.’”

He’d seen this look on Adara’s face before, after a particularly offside, cutting remark from her father. Her lashes swept down, her brow tensed and her nostrils pinched ever so slightly with a slow, indrawn breath. He’d always assumed she was gathering her patience, but today he saw it differently. She was absorbing a blow.

One that he had delivered. His heart clutched in his chest. Don’t put me in the same category as that man.

“I’m just telling you how it looked, Adara.” His voice was gruff enough to make her flinch.

“Like you’re some kind of open book, letting me see your thoughts and feelings?” She pushed her plate away with hands that trembled. “I’ve told you more about myself today than I’ve ever shared with anyone and all I’ve heard back is that you’re sad I miscarried. Well, I should damn well hope so! They were your babies too.”

She rose and tried to escape, but he was faster, his haste sending his chair tumbling with a clatter, his hands too rough on her when he pulled her to stand in front of him, but her challenge made him slip the leash on his control.

“What do you want me to say? That I hadn’t believed in God for years, but when I took you to the hospital that first time, I gave praying a shot and felt completely betrayed when He took that baby anyway? That I got drunk so I wouldn’t cry? Every time. Damn it, I haven’t been able to close my eyes since the beach without imagining walking into your bathroom and finding you dead in a pool of blood.” He gave her a little shake. “Is that the kind of sharing you need to hear?”