Saving the Gunslinger

Chapter Forty-Three

Forty-Three

Samantha woke the next morning with the feel of the sunrise on her face. She buried herself deeper within the covers, cursing the curtains that had been left open to allow the morning light to assault her. Sleep was something she hadn't gotten much of last night.

A smile curved her lips as she felt Zachary's arm tighten around her middle and pull her back tight against him. A grumbling growl left his chest. Clearly Zachary wasn't ready to wake up and get out of bed just yet.

Samantha wasn't either but natures call would not be denied. She slid from his grasp and rose from the bed, grabbing her nightdress from the chair and slipping it on her bare body. Going to the changing screen, Samantha stepped behind it and relieved herself in the pot that waited there.

After cleansing herself in the cold bathwater from last night, she returned to the bed. Her husband quickly pulled her into his arms once again, this time she lay on her side facing him and rested her face against his chest. Her husband. Finally. Zachary Marston was her husband.

For so long her life had been nothing but running and fear—even before Clinton Matthews she had never known true security or contentment given her fathers addictions and poverty. But with Zachary that had changed. Zachary made her feel safe, warm, cherished, protected. He was everything she could have ever hoped for in a husband—and she knew that she had given just as much to him. She had made his life just as complete.

"We need to get to the cattle auction," Zachary's deep voice, still raspy with sleep announced as he pressed a kiss to her red curls.

"You have your new wife laying in your arms in the early morning sunrise and your first thought is of cattle?" Samantha teased.

A chuckle rumbled deep in his broad chest. "Oh there are plenty of other things on my mind," he assured her, squeezing her tighter. "But considering we just finished doing those things for the third time in a night less than two hours ago, I'm guessing we could both use a break."

Samantha sighed and lifted her head to kiss the bottom of his jaw. He was right. Her body was sore—it was a deliciously sated type of sore but sore nonetheless. And she was tired. She could simply remain curled up like this all day and do nothing but be held in Zachary's arms and sleep. That sounded like such a nice plan to her.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Time for a nap." His pointed silence followed and Samantha grumbled under her breath before opening her eyes and looking over his shoulder at the grandfather clock that stood against the wall. "Seven-thirty."

"The auction starts at nine. We need to get dressed, get Tim and Eleanor, eat breakfast, and head that way."

"Do I have to come stare at cow asses all day?" Samantha muttered, pushing herself up to sit on the edge of the bed as she threw her legs over it.

Zachary chuckled, sitting beside her and tracing the delicate chain of the necklace that fell between her breasts. The gift he had given her to show the depth of his love. "You speak like such a lady," he teased. "And no, you don't have to. You and Eleanor could always go shopping for things we'll need for the houses."

A fear Samantha was not proud of gripped her. Wandering the city shopping without Zachary.... What if Clinton Matthews or one of his men were near. What if they found her...

She didn't realized that her breathing had become labored until Zachary was on his knees in front of her and urging her to look at him. She did just that. She lost herself in those deep brown eyes. He laid a hand on her cheek and she leaned against it, feeling her breaths growing calmer. "I'm sorry," she finally whispered, knowing that shame colored her cheeks.