Give My Love to Rose (8 page)

His clothes were drenched in blood, but none
of these wounds should have made him unconscious. Rose moved her
gaze back to his face. He seemed so peaceful as he lay there. The
hard lines and anger were gone and he was a gentle sleeping giant.
There was no more dangerous aura and no tension.

Rose found herself wondering what he would
look like without that beard. She wondered how all those hard line
and angles he was made up of would sculpt his face.

“
What are you doing, you
foolish woman?” she chided herself. “Stop daydreaming and help the
man.”

Rose examined the area around his head and
that’s when she saw the blood on the rock. She gasped and turned
his head slightly, her fears confirmed when she saw the blood
matting his brown hair.

She needed to get him back to her cabin, but
there was no way Rose could get him up on a horse without him
helping. She grabbed his arm and attempted to tug him but couldn’t
budge his body which was probably at least two-hundred and fifty
pounds of solid muscle.

“
Marston,” she called
sternly. “I want to help you, but you have to wake up!”

She shook him roughly and suddenly his
golden eyes flew open and his calloused hand closed around her
throat. Confusion filled his gaze as Rose clawed desperately at his
hand.

“
Marston... it’s me...
it’s Rose...” she gasped weakly, finding that it was a struggle to
draw any air into her lungs.

He released as quickly as he’d grabbed her
and as he flopped back down to the ground, Rose rubbed at the
tender, bruising flesh on her throat and shook her head. “No, you
don’t!” she grabbed his arm. “You have to stay with me. You have to
climb up on that horse because I sure can’t lift you.”

Without warning, Marston sat up, nearly
bashing their foreheads together. “What happened?” he slurred.

Rose wondered just how bad his head injury
was. She had heard of people never being the same after suffering a
bad enough one. “You must have been attacked by coyotes and you
fell and hit your head.”

Rose frowned when Marston reached out and
twirled one of her red curls between his fingers. “You’re so
pretty,” he whispered, his gold eyes becoming tender as he gazed at
her. A lopsided smile curved his lips and Rose felt a blush color
her cheeks as her heart rate quickened.

Then she saw him swoon and she barely
managed to grab his arm and steady the giant of a man before he
fell back to the ground.

“
Okay then. I’m pretty and
you have a head injury. Now let’s get you up and on that horse so
we can get back home,” Rose insisted.

Marston once again seemed confused. “A head
injury?”

“
Yes.” Rose felt her
patience waning. “You fell and hit your head.”

“
My head’s fine,” Marston
insisted and before Rose could stop him, he reached around and
patted himself on the back of the head. With a roar of pain,
Marston held out his bloody hand and glared at her. “Dammit, that
hurt! Why didn’t you tell me I hurt my head?”

“
I did,” Rose assured him,
stifling her laughter as she pinched the bridge of her nose between
her fingertips.

Again, Marston’s eyes turned tender and he
leaned his face toward hers. “You’re so pretty.”

Again Rose felt herself light up at his
words and then she scolded herself for being foolish and got to her
feet. “We’ve covered that already,” she informed him. “And it would
probably mean more if you weren’t half out of blood, semiconscious
and delirious from hitting your head.”

“
I hit my head?” he asked
and Rose laughed outright when he once again reached back and
patted himself on the head. Again he let out a roar of pain and
Rose fought hard to control herself. She honestly shouldn’t be
laughing…. What if the loss of memory were permanent? She smiled.
He’d certainly be a lot of fun to have around.

“
Come on, Marston. I’ll
help you.” Rose offered him her hand and he took it. She pulled as
hard as she could, but she knew that he did most of the work
himself as he got to his feet and stood there swaying.

He leaned some of his weight on her as Rose
led him to the gray. It took several long painful moments to get
him onto the horse’s back but when he finally made it, Marston gave
her that lopsided grin once again. “You want a ride, pretty
lady?”

Rose shook her head. Being close to him made
her feel things and given his current state of mind, it would be a
very bad idea to get on that horse. “I believe I’ll walk. You just
focus on not falling off that poor beast.”

“
I’ve never fallen off a
horse!” he replied indignantly. Rose found herself stifling another
laugh. Marston certainly was entertaining when he was nearly
incapacitated.

By the time they reached the cabin, Marston
had once again lost consciousness and was slumped over the horse.
Rose managed to get him awake just enough to hear him say she was
pretty once more and then get him inside and tossed down on the
sofa.

“
What’s wrong with him,
mama?” Langley asked, staying near the corner.

“
He was attacked by
coyotes in the woods,” Rose replied gently. “I need you to get on
his horse and ride into town to get the doc, okay?”

“
That big gray one?”
Langley gasped.

Rose nodded. “It’s plenty gentle. You’ll be
just fine.”

Langley swallowed hard but left the house to
do as he’d been told. Rose put a pot of water on the stove to heat.
While that was going she walked into the water closet to get towels
and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Rose gasped when she
saw the darkening bruise that Marston’s hand had left upon her pale
throat. She touched it gingerly with her fingertip and gasped in
pain.

Rose gathered up the towels and laid them on
the edge of the sofa before going to her bedroom. She quickly
changed back into her blue skirt and white, high-necked blouse. She
didn’t need the doctor seeing that bruise and getting the wrong
impression of Marston. Rose had to go back to the water closet to
ensure the bruises were covered. She didn’t have a mirror in her
bedroom. There were certain parts of her reflection that she didn’t
want to have to see each and every day.

Rose took her needle and thread from the
cabinet and stepped back out into the kitchen. She used a towel to
grip the heated pan of water and carried to the sofa.

She stared in awe at Marston’s form. He was
so massive! All sprawled out on the sofa the way he was caused that
piece of furniture to look no bigger than an armchair. His legs
were hanging a good two feet off the end and his hand was on the
floor.

Rose sighed and wondered just how she was
going to get his weapons and shirt off so she could begin to tend
to his wounds. She could cut his pants away to get to the ones on
his thigh and ankle, but that band of bullets around his chest
would have to go.

Rose laid her hands on his broad chest and
searched for ways to take it off. “What the devil do you think
you’re doing?” Marston’s sharp voice suddenly growled deeply.

Rose quickly removed her hands. “Trying to
get your clothes off,” she replied as his golden eyes darkened.
Lord, but it was hard to think with those intense eyes staring at
her that way.

“
Don’t ever touch me like
that,” he warned.

Rose didn’t’ reply, simply busied herself
smoothing out her skirt.

Damn but that woman must not realize what
she did to him! She had been all but begging him to throw her down
and take her by touching him that way. Marston fought back the
raging desire in his blood and focused instead on the raging
pain.

But why was he in pain?

Glancing down, Marston saw the blood
covering his clothes and he felt the same sticky substance in his
hair. He fought for some memory of how he’d come to be injured and
then he remembered the coyotes and the rock. But how had he gotten
back to Rose’s cabin, on her sofa with her tiny hands rubbing all
over his chest?

“
What happened?” he
demanded.

“
The horses came back
without you so I went looking for you,” Rose replied and Marston
realized she avoided his gaze. “I found you unconscious, but I got
you to wake up just enough to get you back here.”

“
And you were rubbing your
hands all over me, why?” he questioned as he struggled to pull
himself into a sitting position and let out a loud curse at the
pain in his leg.

Rose winced. “I wasn’t rubbing all over
you,” she insisted. “I was just trying to get that strappy bullet
thing off of you so I could tend to your wounds.”

Marston’s frown deepened. “Strappy bullet
thing?”

Rose pointed it and Marston laughed
heartily. Rose was surprised by the sound. It was rich and deep and
it rumbled out of him, causing him to look younger and more
carefree.

“
It’s called a bandolier,”
he informed her.

She waved her hand. “Well take it off and
your shirt too so I can clean that bite on your shoulder.”

Marston raised a brow but did as Rose
commanded and she gasped at the sight of him. His body was unlike
any she had ever seen. He was hard, solid and thick. Brown hair
dusted his chest and a trail of that hair started low on his solid
stomach and led down into the waistband of his trousers.

With a blush, Rose forced her eyes back up
and took in the alarming sight of scars. Marston was covered in
scars. This clearly hadn’t been the man’s first brush with
death.

Puckered scars marred his left shoulder and
his right side. Long jagged scars lanced across his chest. Those
were the scars that stole her breath and caused the room to begin
to sway. They were identical to the scars on her back—whip
marks.

Rose somehow forced herself to turn away
from those scars and began wetting a towel. She had to tend to the
oozing bite on his shoulder.

Marston watched her closely. He had seen the
way her eyes had widened when she’d caught sight of his scars. He
was surprised that she hadn’t asked about them the way most people
did when they first saw them.

Marston was confused by what he felt inside
while sitting near her. Rose was something he had never experienced
before. He was certain that she feared him, at least a little, and
that proved she was smart. But despite that fear she seemed to
truly care and have real concern for his welfare.

Rose was a walking contradiction of sweet
and innocent mixed with temper and toughness and she intrigued him.
He found himself wanting to know more which shocked him. Marston
had never once cared about another person enough to want to get to
know them more. He took what he wanted whether it was money,
supplies, food, quick physical satisfaction or shelter for a night
and then he was gone.

What made him act differently with this
woman and her boy?

“
So why do you need all
those bullets anyway?” Rose asked as she took the towel and dabbed
at his wounded shoulder.

Marston hissed with pain but remained still
and let her do as she wished. “Some men are hard to kill.”

She shuddered. “I was being serious,” she
replied without meeting his gaze.

Marston lowered his voice. “So was I.”

Silence fell over the cabin as Rose took out
her needle and thread and began to sew up the deepest lacerations
on his shoulder. Marston’s jaw popped and his fists tightened
painfully.

Rose’s face was pale and a line formed
between her eyes as she scrunched her brow and focused all her
attention on her work. When she blew a sweaty lock of hair from her
brow and sat back, Marston uttered two words that he had never
before uttered. “Thank you.”

Chapter Seven

Though Marston hadn’t wanted to stay around
Rose any longer it seemed fate wasn’t on his side. Leaving simply
wasn’t an option. The doctor had said he needed to take it easy and
Marston could tell by the pain his shredded thigh was in that
riding horseback for hours wasn’t something he could manage.

Rose had put fifteen stitches in his thigh,
ten in his ankle and another ten in his shoulder. By the time
Langley had returned with the doctor, Marston had already cleaned
up, changed clothes and had been sitting on the porch. The doctor
had left him some laudanum for pain, told him to rest for at least
a week to let the wounds begin to close and then he had left.

“
Where are you going?”
Rose asked that evening as Marston stood from the porch chair and
limped toward the steps.

“
I’m going into town. I’ll
get a room at the hotel.”

Rose shook her head as she finished clipping
a faded purple dress on the line. “It’s a long ride to town and the
doctor said you need to rest.”

“
I’ll be fine,” he assured
her. “I’ve had worse than a ripped up leg.”

He’d rather have the pain in his body from
riding than the torment he felt in his soul as he sat and watched
her. Rose tempted him as nothing else ever had and the fact that
something inside of him wouldn’t’ let him give into that temptation
and simply take what he wanted from her irritated the hell out of
him.

“
It’s not your leg I’m
worried about,” she insisted. “It’s your head. You shouldn’t be
alone after a head injury like that.”

“
Why the hell are you
worried about me?” Marston demanded and then he kicked himself for
asking it. Did he really want to know the damned answer?

‘
Yes, you do. That’s why
you’re still here,’ Great his favorite voice was back
again.

‘
I’m here because a chunk
of my leg is missing,’ Marston countered silently.