Give My Love to Rose

by Nicole Sturgill

  Marston gripped the door frame and his eyes dropped to his boots. “For as long as you’ll have me, Rose.”

  Rose found this display of nervousness from the large men endearingly sweet and his words were not lost on her. For as long as she’d have him? She could hardly believe this was happening at all. Perhaps she was still unconscious and this was merely a fever induced dream.

  She smiled. “Forever should do.”

  Marston’s head rose instantly and Rose nearly slapped herself for saying such a foolish thing. Surely the man would run screaming for the hills!

  But instead, the hint of a smile curved his lips and he nodded before turning and walking out of her bedroom. He returned several minutes later with a steaming bowl in his hands and an excited Langley on his heels.

  “Mama! You’re awake!” Langley exclaimed.

  Rose hugged him tight when he threw his arms around her neck. “I’m sorry I scared you, baby.”

  “I’m not a baby, mama,” Langley countered, pulling away from her. “Marston is teaching me how to be a man. He’s taught me all kinds of stuff since he came back.”

  “Really?” Rose asked.

  Marston grunted and used his elbow to nudge Langley to the side. Marston kicked the chair closer to the bed and took a seat. “Give your mama some breathing room, boy,” he scolded but Rose could see his affection for her son shining in his eyes and the sight of it caused Rose’s heart to swell with love for the outlaw.

  Marston sat the bowl on the table and helped Rose to sit up, propped against her pillows. “Why am I so weak and floppy?” she grumbled, unaccustomed to needing help doing anything.

  Marston chuckled. “Floppy?”

  “Yes,” Rose snapped with irritation. “I can hardly move at all on my own.”

  “Probably your medicine and the fact that you’ve been so sick and in this bed for so long,” Marston guessed. He picked the bowl back up and blew on the steaming contents.

  The scent of chicken broth teased her nose and Rose felt her mouth begin to water. “You made that?” she asked.

  Marston nodded as he scooped up a spoonful and moved it toward her lips. Rose frowned. “Can’t I feed myself?”

  “Nope,” Marston replied. When she glared he let out a long breath. “Give me a break, Rose. I’ve never cared about anybody in the world enough to want to take care of them. Let me take care of you.”

  Rose’s heart skipped a beat. “You care about me?”

  Marston’s golden eyes narrowed. “Open up.”

  Rose did as he ordered and was happy that she did. The broth was delicious and full of flavor on her tongue. She swallowed it quickly and opened her mouth for more which Marston seemed more than happy to give to her.

  “Gosh mama, me, and Marston have been busy,” Langley said as he sat at the foot of the bed. “We patched the walls up so they’re not drafty anymore and we fixed the hole in the barn roof so the horses don’t get snowed and rained on. Marston even let me chop down a tree and the woodshed is so full it’s busting apart! You should see it, mama!”

  “That’s good,” Rose whispered, feeling overwhelmed. She was exhausted, her body weak and her mind fuzzy. She had very nearly died… she had very nearly left Langley all alone in the world. But once again Marston had come. Marston was back, he was changed and he seemed to want to stay.

  Rose wondered what had happened to bring about the change in the man and return him to her. She suspected that she probably did not want to know. All that mattered was that he was with them now. With Marston here, life would be so much easier.

  Winston Meade would no longer be able to harm her. And even if he did take her cabin away, Rose knew that Marston was the type of man who knew how to survive and he would help her ensure that Langley had a place to live. They would never go cold or hungry as long as they had Marston.

  But it wasn’t just having him to share the load with that made Rose happy Marston was back. Rose wanted to know what it felt like to be loved and cherished by a man. All of her life she had only known harshness from them, at least until Langston, but Marston was not the father figure that Langston had been. Marston was a young, strong, handsome, man who could very well be her man—that though both thrilled and terrified her.

  And then there was the pain that Rose knew Marston carried inside him. She was pleased that he had returned to them so that Rose could care for him. She wanted to help his soul heal. She knew he could help her heal what was still broken inside of her. The gentle, caring Marston sitting beside her now was exactly what her abused heart needed.

  “Thank you, Marston,” she whispered. “For coming back, for taking care of Langley, for taking care of me… thank you.”

  Marston growled and shoved another spoonful of broth into her mouth. “What have I told you about thanking me for things?”

  Rose simply smiled and Marston sighed. “You’re welcome.”

  Langley laughed at Marston’s pouting before launching into another long winded story about all the fun they’d been having while she’d been unconscious.

  ***

  “I need to clean up,” Rose stood her ground as Marston glared. The doc had come and gone and confirmed that Rose was indeed on the road to recovery but would need rest.

  Rest? Rose didn’t even know what that word meant!

  “I can heat up some water and you can sponge off in here,” Marston replied stubbornly, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest as he stood in the doorway.

  “No. I’ll wash off in the water closet.”

  “That water will be cold, Rose.”

  “I’ll be fine, Marston. Now, why don’t you go find something to keep yourself busy while I’m cleaning up?”

  Marston shook his head. “You’re gonna need help.”

  Rose glared and tried to tell herself he was only being helpful. She wasn’t accustomed to being treated like a child. “I can manage,” she insisted. Rose tossed back the dirty sheets and it took her several painstakingly long moments to throw her legs over the edge of the bed.

  She pushed herself onto her feet only to realize she couldn’t support her weight and she tumbled back down onto the mattress. Her cheeks burned as she felt Marston’s gaze burning holes in her. “You want that help now?”

  Rose felt horror cloud her judgment. Let him see her nude?! Have his eyes look upon the scars that covered her? The disgust she would see on his face would be more than Rose could bear.

  And if Rose were without clothes and there were no boundaries between them, would Marston take advantage?

  Marston met her gaze and hurt flashed in his golden eyes. “If I was going to take advantage of you, I would have done it while you were unconscious.”

  Rose felt her face redden with shame. “I never said a word about that.”

  Marston snorted. “Yeah, but I don’t have to be a mind reader to know you thought it. Dammit, I’ve done some bad things to a lot of people but hurting you or that boy isn’t something I’m gonna add to the list.”

  “Okay,” came Rose’s weak reply.

  “Then will you let me help you?”

  Rose nodded, unable to find the strength to sit back up. Marston left the room and Rose wondered where he was going. She heard the water turn on in the water closet and then Marston was back.

  He’d removed his bandolier and all his weapons, but somehow that didn’t make him seem any less deadly as he took up all the space in the doorway.

  Marston closed the distance between them and scooped her out of the bed, cradling her against his chest the way a husband would his new bride. “What are you doing?” she demanded, fearing for his back. Rose was not dainty nor was she light.

  “Can’t you just shut your trap and let me take care of you without making a big deal of it?” Marston grumbled.

  “You don’t have to be so grumpy,” Rose snapped. “I’m not used to being taken care of.”

  “Well I’m not used to taking care of anyone so let’s just go with it and pretend it
’s normal.”

  Rose smiled as she buried her face in his chest and breathed him in. Horses, sweat, dust, and blood—Marston smelled every bit the outlaw that he was.

  When he carried her into the water closet, Rose saw the chair he had placed under the spray of water. He sat her gently on her feet but still held her close, supporting her body with his own. “I’ll help you out of your gown and get you settled in the chair and then I’ll leave.”

  Rose’s heart froze. “I’ll remove my gown myself.”

  Marston frowned. “Woman, you can hardly raise your arms. Let me help you.”

  “No!” she snapped viciously.

  Marston took a step back. “What the hell is the matter with you?” he demanded harshly. “Do you think I’m going to take one look at you without your clothes, throw you down and force you right here on the water closet floor while your son feeds the horses outside? Weren’t you the goddamn one who said I wasn’t all bad?”

  Rose bit her lip. He remembered that? She leaned against the wall for support. “It’s not that I think you’d… do that,” she insisted. “It’s just that I haven’t… I haven’t been undressed in front of a man in a long time and….” Rose found that she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the scars.

  She glanced at the mirror and gasped. There was certainly no fear of the man succumbing to desire for her. Her hair was limp and dirty, her face pale, her lips colorless and her eyes surrounding by dark circles. Her gown was dirty and hanging off of her and she mustn’t forget the scent she could smell coming from her.

  “Rose?” Marston’s voice was soft. “I’m not sure what’s going on in that head of yours, but I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Rose nodded, let out a long steadying breath and looked him in the eye. “Okay. Just don’t look at me, alright? Close your eyes and don’t open them again until you’re out in the kitchen.”

  Marston grumbled under his breath. He’d likely break a damn leg trying to get around with his eyes closed. Not to mention the fact that he wanted to finally gaze upon the damn body that had been haunting his dreams for months.

  “Okay,” he agreed. Marston stepped to her and could feel her trembling with fear as he undid the top buttons of her gown. “Raise your arms,” he urged gently.

  She did and Marston closed his eyes tight before lifting the gown over her head and tossing it to the floor. He followed the sound of water to lead Rose to the shower and helped her to sit down in the chair.

  Marston backed out of the room and nearly fulfilled his promise but couldn’t stop himself from sneaking the tiniest of peeks. He knew her back would be to him from here and she would never know….

  Marston opened his eyes and the sight he was met with filled him with an all-consuming, indescribable rage.

  Scars marred her beautiful pale skin. Horrible, raised scars. Long, thin scars. Scars that Marston would recognize anywhere since he was covered in a few himself. Someone had beaten his Rose with a whip.

  Marston took several slow, steadying breaths, reminding himself that he wasn’t supposed to have seen them. “Just holler for me when you’re done,” he said and he heard her murmur in agreement.

  Marston stepped out of the room and closed the door before pacing the cabin like a caged animal. What in the hell had happened to that woman? Marston would find out one day. One day she would trust him enough to tell him and Marston would see that whoever was responsible paid with their life.

  For now, he busied himself by stripping the soiled sheets and pillowcases from Rose’s bed and replacing them with clean ones.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nightmares had Rose gasping for breath as she shot upright in bed. She ran her hand over her sweaty curls and pulled her blanket tighter around her, clutching it in her fingers.

  Tonight the nightmares had been her time spent in that wagon. Her adoptive father had started up his own sex slave business and he had kept her and several more daughters prisoner inside and sold their time and their bodies for whatever money he could get. She had dreamt of the night that he himself had raped her…The night that Langley had been conceived. She knew that had been the night because it had been the only night that month that she had been raped.

  Her adoptive father had beaten her face so badly after that she’d been unwanted by the men who showed up and three weeks after the rape, Langston had come and paid nearly one hundred dollars to take her away and have her as his own.

  Her adoptive father had been all too happy to let her go for that small fortune.

  Rose shivered and slowly got to her feet, her weak legs protesting the movement. She shuffled across the room using the furniture for support and took her robe from the hook by the door. After sliding into it, Rose went into the kitchen, lit the lamp and laid her head against the cabinets to try to force the memories away.

  “You okay?”

  Marston’s voice caused her to open her eyes and turn quickly. He was lying on that sofa that was several feet too small for him and his golden eyes were watching her closely. Rose hadn’t realized he’d been sleeping inside….

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she apologized.

  Marston shrugged, but he didn’t get up. “You didn’t. Bad dreams again?”

  Rose poured a glass of water and took a shaky sip. “Yes.”

  “You want to talk about them?”

  “No,” she quickly snapped and then she saw his hurt and she sighed. “Not yet.”

  “You need to go rest, Rose,” Marston insisted.

  Rose knew he was right. She took one last sip of water and placed her glass on the counter. She turned toward her bedroom, but her weak legs had finally done all they could and they gave out beneath her. She prepared herself for the fall she knew she was going to take and nearly cried out with shock when instead she found herself once again lifted into Marston’s arms and cradled against his chest.

  “How did you move so fast?” she gasped.

  He laughed lightly. “I’ve been told I’m part Indian. Maybe that has something to do with it.”

  As he carried her to her bed, Rose marveled at the fact that being held by Marston this way didn’t frighten her. For some reason, her fear of being touched disappeared when it was Marston doing the touching.

  She found herself placed gently upon her bed and her covers were pulled up to her chin before her hair was smoothed from her face. “I’ve never been tucked into bed,” Rose admitted.

  She saw Marston’s throat work as he swallowed hard. “I’ve never tucked anyone into bed.”

  “You do a good job,” she assured him as he made sure the blanket was snug around her. Rose could definitely see herself getting used to being pampered this way.

  Marston smiled. “I’m glad you think so.” He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, but he could see the uncertainty in her blue eyes. It was hard for Marston to deny urges that he’d never once in his life bothered to deny before but somehow he forced himself to settle for pressing a light kiss to her soft cheek.

  Marston heard her gasp and her eyes were shining as he pulled away. “Should I not have done that?” he asked uncertainly. He wished he could be more sure of himself, but he was in completely unchartered territory just now.

  “You should have done that,” Rose assured him, color staining her cheeks. She rubbed her fingers over the place his lips had touched and he frowned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shrugged, clearly embarrassed. “Your… your beard is scratchy.”

  Marston chuckled. “Maybe your skin is just too soft.”

  Rose smiled so bright it took Marston’s breath. “You could be right.”

  “Get some sleep,” he urged as he stood straight. “If you have any more of those dreams, don’t try to get up. Just call my name and I’ll come.”

  Rose was awestruck as he left the room. She had never once imagined a man could be like Marston. He was a completely different man than he had been that September night when he had treated
her so cold and ridden off in the night. Rose prayed that he truly meant it when he said he wanted to stay with them—she wasn’t sure how she would pick herself back up if he left again.

  She knew that she still needed to tell him about the banker, but she hadn’t wanted to ruin the day—she’d been enjoying this new side of him too much. She would tell him tomorrow.

  Rose curled up under the covers and smiled. Marston awoke something inside of her that Rose had never felt before. She felt a desire for him that was strong and shocking—and he filled her heart with a love for him so strong that it scared her. Rose realized with clarity that she did indeed love Marston—she loved him with everything she had.

  ***

  Marston grabbed the lamp that Rose had lit in the kitchen and carried it into the water closet. He ran his hand over the thick beard he’d had for as long as he could remember. He wasn’t attached to it, necessarily. He’d simply grown it to cover the circular scar on his cheek that he’d gotten when the headmaster at the orphanage had put his lit cigar out on Marston’s face—that had been the last time Marston had ever tried to give his blankets to someone smaller and colder than himself.

  Duke had insisted that Marston cover the scar before they began to work because scars were too identifiable. No one he had met since leaving that orphanage even knew that Marston had the scar and there was no mention of it on any wanted poster. Hell, Marston wasn’t even sure he was wanted any longer.

  The poster that had his name had been issued nearly ten years ago and they were a scribbled face with no name and a five hundred dollar bounty. Since then Marston had dined with sheriffs, deputies, marshals and even several Pinkertons.

  Marston was no longer on their radar. They had bigger and badder outlaws to hunt down. A man who robbed but only killed in self-defense, one who threatened but very rarely harmed, and one who had his fun with paid for women instead of unwilling ones simply wasn’t high on their priority list.

  Yeah, it was time for Marston to lose the beard. His days of roaming and breaking laws were over. And if his beard bothered Rose and was going to interfere with kissing than Marston would be glad to see the thing gone.