Chapter Twenty-One

"Where is he Marston?" Langley demanded when Marston returned to the clearing.

"He's dealt with," Marston replied simply. He had dragged the bastard's body deep into the woods, stripped him of anything valuable and covered him with a bit of mud and leaves. He had no worries that the body would be found—no one ventured out that far and the critters would make short work of the remains.

The boy nodded and leaned the rake against the outside of the barn. "Good."

Marston went to Winston's horse and began checking the beast for any brands but found none. He could sell the horse and fetch a decent bit of money for Rose and Langley.

Langley came closer and frowned. "But Marston, I should warn you that mama..."

"Marston!" Rose's voice exclaimed. He turned to see the woman striding from the cabin looking fit to kill.... When she saw the blood, dirt and leaves covering him she paused. "Where have you been?"

"Hello Rose," Marston replied, feeling uneasy. He wasn't sorry that he had killed Winston but he was nervous that Rose would want him gone once she realized what he'd done. His only hope was that he would realize he'd had no choice. Men like Winston Meade could only be dealt with one way.

"Where have you been?" she asked again, much more quietly. "Langley showed me the doe you killed but he wouldn't breathe a word about why you weren't here. I'm smart enough to know that's Winston Meade's horse."

"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 sacred 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 anytime 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.