Give My All to Jessie (Third in Outlaw Series)

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Marston opened his eyes and knew instantly that Rose was no longer in the bed with him. He laid his hand over her pillow and realized it was still warm. She hadn't been gone long.

A glance out the window told him there were still a few hours before dawn. Knowing it was those damned nightmares that had her awake once again, Marston tossed his legs over the edge of the bed and stood slowly.

Pulling his trousers up on his legs, Marston frowned at the scars covering him. He scratched at his scarred up, hard muscled stomach and wondered what in the world it was that that beautiful woman saw in a beaten and battered man like him. His hand still didn't work as well as it once had, he limped when he got up in the mornings and he was fairly certain there was a gray hair or two beginning to pop up in his beard.

Deciding that it didn't matter what she saw just so long as she saw it, Marston left the room to go find his woman and offer her what comfort he could. He made his way down the hall and the staircase and his ears picked up the sound of her moving about in the kitchen.

He stepped into the room silently, and even though her back was to him, he saw her shoulders tense and knew that she knew he was there. He crossed the room with long strides, spun her around and pulled her against his chest.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and they simply stood there for several long moments. Finally Marston pulled away just enough so he could tip her head up and look into her blue eyes.

"Nightmares again?" he asked. When she shook her head, he frowned. "What then? Are you sick?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine," she countered.

With a growl, Marston scooped her up into his arms causing her to gasp and wrap her arms around his neck. "What are you doing?" she demanded gently.

"I shouldn't have to explain it to you," he replied as he carried her toward the stairs.

"Yes, but I'm too big and you're getting too..." She stopped suddenly.

Marston's brow quirked upward. "Too what?"

"Old," she mumbled, burying her red face in his neck.

Marston laughed as he stepped into their bedroom. "You are perfect," he countered, laying her down upon the bed. He laid hungry kisses to her jaw. "And the day I'm too old to carry you to bed is the day I want someone to place a gun to my head and put me out of my misery."

Rose was smiling as he slipped from his trousers and slid into the bed beside her. Pulling the blanket over them both, Marston sighed. "So what had you in the kitchen in the middle of the night?"

"I just have a bad feeling," she replied quietly as she traced his bicep with her fingertips.

Marston trembled. Then he growled, snatched up her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. "Stop trying to distract me," he warned. "And what kind of bad feeling do you have?" He had learned that when Rose had a bad feeling about something, it was best to listen.

"You don't want to hear about it," she assured him. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Marston met her stubborn gaze. "If it has you up in the middle of the night pacing then I want to know about it. Tell me."

Rose let out a sigh and her gaze went to his chest. "I have a feeling Jeremiah might be in trouble."

Marston pressed a quick kiss to her temple. "I promise you that worthless sack of...."