Give My Love to Rose

by Nicole Sturgill

  “It’s a nice horse,” Marston acknowledged, running a hand over the creature’s neck.

  “Marston, where is Winston?” Rose questioned cautiously.

  Marston went about removing the gaudy saddle and tackle from the horse. “Dealt with,” he replied, never glancing her way.

  He could feel her blue eyes staring hard at him. “Can we talk inside?” she asked.

  Marston nodded. “Just let me see to this horse and I’ll be in.”

  Marston heard her footsteps disappear back into the cabin. He let out a long breath and just hoped that Rose would love him more than she feared him.

  ***

  Rose was sitting at the table sipping on a cup of tea when Marston came in a short time later. She took in the sight of him—a sight that should terrify her.

  He was nearly seven feet of solid muscle all wrapped up in dirt and bloodstained clothes. His sharply angled face was rough with a few days worth of stubble and lined with dirt. Golden eyes watched her closely and in them, Rose saw no regret and no remorse even though she was certain he had just killed a man.

  “What happened?” she asked, unsure if she truly wanted the answer.

  Marston crossed the cabin and sat down on the other side of the table. “He’s been dealt with.”

  “Marston.. did you kill him?” she asked, staring down into her tea to avoid his gaze.

  Marston reached across the table to take her hand, but Rose jerked away from him. When she glanced at his face it appeared as if someone had just kicked him in the gut. “Are you scared of me now, Rose?”

  Rose shook her head and wrung her hands in her lap. “I’m not afraid of you.. it’s just.. you just killed a man.”

  He pulled his hat from his head and rammed his hand through his hair. “That’s right I did.”

  Rose picked at her skirt. “How could you do that?” she whispered, still unable to meet and hold his gaze.

  Marston shoved his chair back and stood. He pulled his hat from his head and tossed it to the floor. “I wasn’t hard,” he snapped. “He’s not the first man I’ve killed and he may not be the last—you knew who I was before now.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “But nothing!” Marston snarled, causing Rose to sink deeper into her chair. “He was climbing in your window while you slept when I found him. He had a knife and a rope for you and a gun for Langley. He was going to kill you both! That bastard got what he deserved.”

  Rose’s eyes rose to his face as her heart slammed to a stop in her chest. “He was sneaking in…?” she whispered. Past memories overloaded her senses and she closed her eyes tight against them. “You should have turned him over to the authorities, Marston. Killing people is never the answer.”

  “It’s my answer,” Marston growled. “Do you want me gone?” his voice was tight.

  Rose didn’t answer as she kept her head lowered and her eyes closed. She heard Marston make a noise as if he were choking and then his boots moved across the floor. “Just let me get cleaned up and then I’ll go and you’ll never have to see my murdering face again. I warned you about the man I was but you’re no different from hundreds of other lying women. You claimed to accept me, claimed to care, took advantage of everything I could do for you and now you’re tossing me out because I didn’t save you and your son’s using the damn method you felt would have been best… damn you, Rose.”

  When the door to the water closet slammed closed, Rose buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Marston’s words had ripped her heart out. She loved that man—she shouldn’t. If she had any good sense she wouldn’t want to spend her life with a man who could kill so easily and not bat an eye. But Marston was the man she wanted.

  And of course, he had killed Winston. Most men would have killed any man that they’d seen sneaking into their woman’s bedroom window with every intention of raping her…. Rose nearly vomited. Three years that banker had been toying with her and if not for Marston, both Rose and Langley would now be dead.

  Rose was ashamed that she had sat at this table and let him feel as if she didn’t want him. Marston had done everything for them. He was what Rose wanted forever. She had to make him see that. Rose couldn’t let him leave thinking that she had changed her mind.

  Rose had practically spit in the man’s face after he’d been forced to do something terrible to protect her and her son. She only prayed that could forgive her. Apologizing could not wait….

  ***

  Marston stood under the cold spray of water with his hands braced against the wall and his head down.

  He found it hard to breathe and hard to focus on anything other than the fact that Rose wouldn’t even look at him in that kitchen. He had thought that she loved him enough to see that what he’d done had been what he’d had to do. It had been a justifiable killing and nothing less than that. Marston wasn’t sorry he had done it—if he hadn’t killed Winston the man could have come back any time to finish what he’d started.

  How in the hell could Marston simply walk away from this place? How could he leave that woman and that boy? He loved Rose with everything he had and Langley—hell Langley was the son he’d never had. He couldn’t live without them and yet he had no choice. Rose didn’t want him here any longer. Jeremiah had been right. It was impossible to change who you were and Marston had been a fool to try.

  The water closet door opened and closed behind him and without looking, Marston knew it was Rose. Somehow he managed to look over at her and he found her standing there simply staring at him.

  Her gaze roamed across his body and Marston felt himself harden. Marston was frozen in place, unable to move, as Rose grabbed a clean wash rag from the cabinet and walked toward him. Rose held that rag beneath the water, her body mere inches from Marston’s and Marston couldn’t take his eyes off her soft, full face as she lathered the rag up with soap.

  Fire shot through him when Rose laid one delicate hand on his arm and held the washrag in the other hand, rubbing it across his skin and cleansing the remaining dirt and blood away.

  Marston had never in his life felt a desire like the one that was currently building in his blood and he could see it mirrored as Rose’s eyes looked up into his. But Marston knew that now as not the time to act on that desire and so he used a substantial amount of his self-control to keep from push her against the wall and take her right there.

  He stood very still and simply allowed her to wash the dirt from his body. He watched her as her little hands learned and explored nearly every inch of his body. Marston bit his tongue so roughly he tasted blood.

  Her touch was doing more than just cleansing him. Rose was letting him know without words that she was standing beside him—that she accepted what he’d done and who he was. The contact between them was sealing their bond in a more intimate and permanent way than even a night of lovemaking could have.

  Rose’s dress was damp and her wet curls were sticking to her face when she finished her task and sat the rag aside. Their eyes locked. Blue and gold lost in one another and the power they both held.

  “Rose? Please don’t make me leave,” Marston pleaded, his voice hollow. “I need you…”

  Rose’s soft hand came to rest on his cheek and Marston leaned into it shamelessly. “I need you too, Marston. You can’t leave me.”

  Marston stepped away from the flow of water and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her damp hair. “You’re all that stands between me and the devil. I can’t live without you and that boy.”

  Rose buried her hands in his thick, wet hair as she clung to him. “I love you, Marston.”

  Marston shook his head. “That’s not a strong enough word.”

  Marston felt her stiffen slightly as she pulled away. He looked down into her blue eyes questioningly and was shocked when she suddenly rose up on her toes and pressed her soft lips to his.

  Passion flared to life inside Marston. He burned and ached with the want he felt for this woman. She was what he wanted. She was his
forever. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, taste her and completely cover himself in her scent.

  Then Langley’s boot steps sounded out in the cabin. Rose groaned and pulled away from him. “No more killing, okay?” she pleaded, staring up into his eyes.

  Marston shook his head. “I won’t promise you that. I’d do anything to keep you and Langley safe.”

  Rose sighed, but he could read the acceptance in her eye. Marston pressed another tender kiss to her lips just before Langley called out for her.

  Marston growled. “Sometimes having kids is a pain in the ass.”

  “Yes,” Rose acknowledged. “But sometimes it’s the best thing in the world.”

  Marston had to agree.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Marston sat alone before the fire that night. Rose and Langley had long since gone to bed, but Marston was staying up to work on getting Langley’s gun ready for Christmas.

  He sighed as he shifted on the sofa. He had hoped that after what had transpired between him and Rose in the washroom that tonight would be the night he could stop calling the sofa bed. He knew enough about Rose’s past to understand her fear of lovemaking but, hell, he would settle for a night of simply holding her in his arms while they slept.

  The torture of having her so close and yet being unable to touch her was slowly driving him insane.

  ‘You were already insane.’

  Marston grumbled under his breath at the goading of the voice in his head and held the revolver up against the light so he could look down the inside of the barrel. He’d been working on it for two nights and already had the thing as close to new as it would ever be—it looked damn good in his opinion. He hoped Langley would be as excited as he was when he saw it.

  Rose’s bedroom door opened and he heard her step out. Marston’s first thought went to her nightmare, but her foot step were wrong for that. She didn’t into the kitchen, instead she came out to the sofa and took a seat.

  Marston offered her a smile. “Can’t sleep?”

  Rose shook her head and pointed at the revolver in his hands. “Where did you get that? Isn’t yours bigger?”

  Marston couldn’t help but wiggle his brows. “Mine is bigger than most.” He saw her flush red in the firelight and he laughed softly. “This is Langley’s gun.”

  Disbelief filled her feature. “The one that Langston wanted him to have?” she demanded. “How on earth did you get it to look so nice?”

  “I’ve just been giving it a real good cleaning,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m gonna sneak off in the morning and try to shoot it.”

  “Try?” Rose asked, taking the revolver in her hands and running her hand over the cold, hard iron.

  “Yeah. I’m not entirely sure it won’t blow up the first time somebody tries to shoot it and I’d rather lose my hand than have Langley lose his.”

  Rose all but threw the gun back at him as her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. “I’d rather that neither of you lost a hand!”

  Marston chuckled as he laid his hand on her soft red curls which were hanging loose around her face. “Don’t worry, Rose. I can use my left hand just as good as my right so losing one won’t make much difference.”

  Rose rolled her eyes even as she leaned into his touch. “Why don’t I feel comforted?”

  Marston slid Langley’s revolver back into his saddlebag before patting his leg. “Get over here,” he ordered.

  Rose was quick to obey, loving how safe and secure she always felt with his arms around her. It amazed her that his big arms, with such death and power in them, were as gentle as cotton when they touched her skin.

  Rose trembled as she remembered the sight of him standing beneath that water. His body was all golden skin, littered with scars and hard with muscle and power. Rose’s blood began to heat just thinking about earlier in the day.

  “Do you want to hear something crazy?” Marston asked as he entwined their fingers and raised her hand to his mouth to brush a kiss across it.

  “Sure,” Rose whispered as a warmth spread from the top of her head down to her toes.

  “I.. I feel like Langley is my boy. I certainly ain’t what most would want in a pa but…”

  “Marston, you’ve been great with Langley!” Rose insisted.

  Marston’s brow rose. “Are you forgetting that I made the kid hold nails in his mouth so he couldn’t talk?”

  “I used to make him molasses and wax gum so he’d be too busy chewing to talk,” Rose admitted.

  She felt Marston’s chest tremble with laughter. “He is a talker.”

  “He loves you, Marston,” Rose assured him as she held their hands up toward the firelight and studied the differences. Rose’s hands were rougher than many women’s because of the work she did, but they somehow seemed as soft as silk against Marston’s. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with the gold of Marston’s.

  Marston sighed. “The feeling is mutual. But, he already has a pa.”

  Rose lifted her head from his chest and looked into his eyes. “No, he doesn’t. He has stories of a pa that he never knew. You are the first and only man to do the things a pa would do with him. You’ve taught him how to chop trees, hunt, work on horses hooves, aim a gun and now you’re even fixing his revolver for him.”

  “Those things don’t add up to much when I think about what y’all have done for me.” Rose smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. “I wonder what it would feel like to be called pa.”

  “You should talk to Langley,” Rose urged.

  Marston shook his head. “No, I don’t wanna turn myself into something I’m not. I’m not his pa and I don’t want to push him.”

  Rose yawned as she snuggled against him. Marston kissed her hair. “You need to get some sleep, Rose.”

  She nodded and stood slowly. The firelight shone through her thin white sleeping gown. Marston was unable to take his eyes off the shadow of her body. His fists were clenched tightly on his thighs as he fought the urge to pull her down onto the sofa and ravage her soft body.

  “Marston?” The fear in Rose’s voice broke through Marston’s fantasies. He frowned up at her and saw the way her jaw tightened with determination.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I…” Rose let out a slow breath and her gaze went to the ceiling a moment before returning to him. “I want you to come to bed with me.”

  Marston’s eyes widened. He was afraid to believe that she had truly just spoken the words he was nearly certain he had heard. “You want me to sleep in your bed?”

  Rose nibbled her bottom lip. “Our bed?” she offered.

  Marston got slowly to his feet as a smile tugged his lips. “Our bed sounds damn nice to me.”

  He pulled Rose into his arms, smoothed her red curls from her face and swooped down on her, devouring her lips with every ounce of hungry need he’d been fighting for so long.

  Marston held her tighter as she moaned against his mouth and he deepened the kiss, tasting her sweetness and drinking her in. His blood caught fire and he knew she was feeling the intensity just as strongly by the way her hands gripped the back of his shirt and her knees gave out beneath her.

  “I have wanted you for so long,” Marston gasped, pulling away and moving his hungry lips to her neck.

  Rose stiffened and Marston sensed the change in her—he could feel her fear. He pulled away and looked down into her wide blue eyes. “Rose?”

  “I’m scared..” she whispered, tears shining up at him. “I have never made love… it was always.. before the men simply…” Rose swallowed hard as one of those tears slipped silently down her cheek. “It hurt.”

  Marston felt that all too familiar rage bubbling up within him, but he forced it back down. His woman needed tenderness and, by God, that’s what he was going to give her.

  Marston cupped her soft cheek with his calloused hand and smoothed away her tear with his thumb. “You never have to be afraid with me, Rose. I would never hurt you. Not for anything
this world has to offer.”

  “I want you to show me, Marston. Show me what it feels like to lay with a man who loves me…”

  Marston nodded before bending low and scooping her up, cradling her against his body just as he had the day he’d helped her to the shower. She smiled up at him, her blue eyes glowing with the depth of her trust and love.

  Marston felt that raging inferno in his blood become a burning ember which Marston knew would burn long into the night. Slowly, gently, tenderly he would make love to her until all those men in the past who had hurt her were little more than distant memories she couldn’t fully recall.

  “I can do that for you, love,” Marston assured her, laying a gentle kiss to her hair. “Because I am that man.”

  He carried her into what she now said was their bedroom and closed the door silently behind them.

  ***

  “Where are you going?” Rose whimpered.

  Marston thought the way her brow wrinkled when she whined was pretty darn adorable. “How did you know I was going anywhere?”

  Her eyes were still closed but the grip her arm had around his body tightened. “I felt your body tense up,” she replied. “I was thinking we could just stay like this all day.”

  Marston felt his body get hard at the mere thought of spending the entire day wrapped up in nothing but sheets and Rose’s arms. Hell, he felt as if he were ten feet tall and bulletproof knowing that she had trusted him to make love to her all through the night and still seemed eager for more this morning.

  “Rose, your body needs a break, I’m sure. According to the doc, you’re supposed to be resting and you sure didn’t do any resting last night.”

  Rose’s eyes opened as her cheeks reddened. “I am sore…” she admitted. Then she smiled. “But it is certainly a sore I could get used to.”

  Marston chuckled as he kissed her head. She glanced out the window and frowned when she saw that it was barely dawn. “Where are you going so early?”

  “Christmas is tomorrow.”

  Her frown deepened. “So?”