Give My Love to Rose(1st in Outlaw Series)

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Marston saddled his gray under the cover of darkness and led the horse out of the barn. His heart was heavy as he prepared to climb into the saddle. Then the unmistakable sound of feminine sobs reached his ears and stopped Marston in his tracks.

Rose was crying.

Not his problem. Not his problem. Not his problem. It was no us. Marston wasn't going anywhere until he figured out what was wrong with her. He hitched the horse to the newly repaired corral fence and headed toward the cabin.

The kitchen shutters were open and Marston peeked inside to find her leaning against the counter with her forehead pressed against the overhead cabinets. She wasn't crying loud. It was a quiet cry accompanied by body wracking spasms. Marston felt his heart constrict in his chest and there was no denying it, not matter how badly he wanted to. Marston cared about Rose.

He entered the cabin without a sound and without taking the time to give thought to what he was doing, Marston strode to her, grabbed her arm and spun her around and pulled her into his chest, holding her tightly against him.

Rose stiffened at first and Marston wondered if she was going to fight against him but then her entire body softened and she fell into him, clinging to his shirt and sobbing. Her entire body shook and trembled with the intensity of her tears but slowly as Marston stroked her back, the wave of sorrow seemed to subside.

Marston felt her squirming and realized that the cold metal bullets in his bandolier were digging into her cheek. Marston quickly released his hold on her and retreated to the other side of the kitchen table, placing plenty of distance between them.

Rose's face was red and streaked with tears as she stared at him. "Are you okay?" Marston questioned, once he had control of his voice once again. Holding Rose in his arms had been the nearest to heaven that he had ever been and his body seemed to have been burned by her closeness.

"Yes," Rose whispered, her gaze dropping awkwardly. "I had a bad dream." She swiped at her cheeks, angry and embarrassed that she had been caught crying—especially by a man who had probably never been weak a day in his life.

"Must have been a hell of a dream," Marston noted. He filled a glass with water from the pitcher on the counter and placed it in Rose's hand, careful to keep their fingers from touching.

Rose took a long drink as Marston once again positioned himself on the opposite side of the table. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself back into Marston's strong arms. Being held against him had caused a peace to wash over her like Rose had never felt before. Just once in her life she wanted to be weak and allow someone else to be strong for her....

But she didn't have that luxury. Marston was all dressed up and ready to leave and Rose had a son to care for and a million worries taking up her plate.

"I'm fine," she assured tightly.

"Were they dreams about your past?"

Rose shivered. "Yes. But they aren't something I'm going to talk about." At least not to a man who's preparing to leave me behind.

Marston shrugged. "Fair enough."

"Are you leaving?" Rose somehow found the strength to ask.

Marston's grip on the chair in front of him tightened until Rose feared for the well-being of the wood. "Yes. It's for the best."

"The best of who?" Rose inquired, setting her glass down on the counter.

"For you and Langley of course," Marston replied. He wasn't what these people needed. All he would bring them was trouble.