Chapter Fourteen

Rose groaned as she clicked her tongue against the roof of her dry mouth. Her body felt sore and sluggish but the burning in her lungs seemed to have eased. She kept her eyes closed as a smile curved her lips.

Rose had had wonderful dreams.

She had dreamt of Marston. His strong arms had been holding her close as his deep voice whispered soothingly into her ear. His big hands had caressed her face and his breath had teased her hair. Rose had even dreamed that she had woken up and spoke to him once and he'd been warm and tender.

She frowned.

The dreams hadn't been wonderful, they'd been mean. Marston was gone.

Pushing thoughts of him away, Rose took stock of herself. She truly did feel a little better. She wondered how long she'd been lying in this bed. Her body was so weak, Rose didn't know if she would even have the strength to get up.

But she had to get up.

She had to cook Langley some breakfast and sew the pants for Old Man Tippler. The floors needed scrubbing and she had to chop more firewood.

Rose shifted on the bed and opened her eyes. Her mouth dropped open and she would have screamed if she could have managed a sound.

Sprawled in a chair beside the bed was Marston. His long, thick legs were stretched out in front of him and his hands were dragging the floor on either side of the chair. His bearded chin was resting on his chest and quiet snores filled the room.

There was blood on his arm, his clothes were dirty, torn and stained and he looked all around filthy as his brown hair lay over his brow and covered his ears.

Why was Marston here? And why had he snuck into her bedroom only to fall asleep in the chair?

Rose did her best to force her aching muscles to listen as she shifted upon the mattress. At the faint rustling of the sheets, Marston's golden eyes shot open and he was crouched beside her bed in an instant.

"Damn woman, but if you ain't a sight for sore eyes I don't know what is," he whispered. "It sure is good to see those blue eyes again. I didn't think you'd ever wake up."

Rose frowned. Marston sounded different. He didn't sound rough or cold or charming and slick. He sounded tender and caring just as he had in her dreams. He grabbed a glass of water and held it Rose's lips. She took several small sips and he pulled the glass away.

"Why are you here?" Rose asked, glancing toward the window and realizing it was dark... the lantern beside the bed illuminated the shadows in her room. Why was it dark? It should be morning!

She curled her nose as a horrific scent burned her senses. Then she realized the smell was coming from her and she nearly gagged.

What was going on....?

"You said if I was ever around I could stop by," Marston reminded her.

"Yes but why are you in my room? Why is it dark? And why do I smell like a hog lot?"

Marston brought his face close to hers and gazed into her eyes with a tenderness that caused her body to ache. She wondered what it would feel like to have Marston hold her close—then again he'd done so in her dreams and Rose was beginning to suspect that they hadn't only been dreams.

"I'm in your room because I was worried about you and couldn't force myself to leave it," Marston admitted. "And it's dark because that's what happens at night and I won't comment on the way you smell. I might be an outlaw but even I have manners."

"But why were you worried?"

"Why?" Marston shook his head. "Because you've been damned sick woman. If you'd have stayed asleep just a few more hours you would have been three days unconscious in your bed. I showed up here a few days ago and you were delirious with fever in your bed and poor Langley was scared to death. I sent him after the doc and the doc said you have a lung infection...."

Rose groaned. "You sent for the doc?"

"Yes." Marston's golden eyes narrowed. "And you need to get to explaining why you didn't do so sooner."

Rose's stomach clenched as a loud growl came from deep within it. She grimaced and laid her hand over her middle. "Can I eat before you scold me?"

Marston grumbled unintelligibly under his breath as he stood straight. "I'll bring you something. You have to stay in this bed. The doc said you need rest. He'll be by today to check on you again but I can tell already that your breathing sounds better. So you stay in this bed and let me get your food. The doc said it could be weeks until you're feeling strong again."

"Weeks?!" Rose exclaimed, whimpering when pain tore through her lungs.

Marston laid a gentle hand on her dirty hair. "Calm yourself, woman," he warned, the sternness in his voice not matching the tenderness in his touch.

"But Marston.. I can't stay in this bed for weeks. I have things to do."

"No you don't," Marston quickly replied. He squared his shoulders and Rose knew she had met her match in stubbornness. "I'm here now and I'll take care of things. Now, let me go get you something for that stomach."

"Marston?" Rose called, stopping him in the doorway.

He turned and raised his brow. "What?"

Rose fidgeted and toyed with the sheet covering her. "How long.. how long do you plan on staying for?"

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.