Marguerite's Plot

by ficscribbler

They had all been sure Roxton's love for Marguerite had reformed her, but now the others are beginning to wonder - just what is she up to this time?

Marguerite's Plot

Summary: They had all been sure Roxton's love for Marguerite had reformed her, but now the others are beginning to wonder - just what is she up to this time?

Disclaimer: The Lost World does not belong to me. *sigh* It belongs to New Line Television, The Over the Hill Gang, et al, …

**********

Marguerite finished polishing the last facet and sat back to admire her handiwork. Done at last! She stretched wearily, working the kinks out of her back and neck, and then carefully wrapped this last one in the soft cloth she'd secured specifically for this project. She carefully sewed the little package shut, and then concealed it with the others that were already hidden away.

Doing all of this had taken an incredible amount of time, much longer than she'd anticipated when she first conceived of this plan. Weeks of thought, patient trial and error, and painstaking, meticulous labor had gone into the preparation of the contents of these little packages.

"Part One" of her delightful plot was now complete. Time to settle down and finalize the details of "Part Two". She'd been mulling it over in her fertile mind, examining and rejecting first one, then another of the ideas. Some of them were just impractical. Some were wildly improbable. A couple had been just plain dumb, she mused with a self-mocking smile. Oh, well, the truth was, she was a little out of practice at deception.

However, although her skills were a little rusty, she knew all she needed to do was focus. Marguerite Krux had always had a knack for finding a way to get what she wanted, and she definitely wanted this.

The trouble was, she'd never attempted anything this vital to her well-being and security before, and she wasn't really certain of the best way to pull it off.

To make matters worse, she was afraid the others were already beginning to get suspicious about what she was up to, before she even had a contingency plan in place. She really didn't want them to know what she was planning - especially Roxton. She didn't want to deal with interference, or worse, face one of her friends trying to put a stop to what she intended. It was in the best interests of everyone involved that no one else should find out what she was planning right now. She'd have to institute a diversion plan, quickly, to keep her secret safe.

Of course, they'd learn the truth eventually, but it would be too late to spoil her plan, if everything went the way she intended it to go.

It was merely a theory, of course, but Marguerite believed that if she could pull this off, it would yield riches beyond anything she'd ever dreamed, before coming to the plateau. And she wanted it with all her heart, more than she'd ever desired anything before. She wanted it so badly, she could almost taste it.

But she couldn't rush it. Everything had to be done just right, or it would never work. All the best plots took time, and she didn't want to risk losing this opportunity by making an error in judgment and blowing it.

Well, she'd been away from the others for long enough today. Any longer would only excite further suspicion. She couldn't risk letting them know their suspicions were actually correct. The only way she was going to be able to get away with this would be to convince them that she was actually doing something other than what she was really doing. Fooling Veronica would be hard enough, but fooling Roxton would take very carefully laid groundwork. She'd already begun to set up the skeleton of a plan, but she had to play it by ear, not knowing how long it would take to convince the perceptive hunter that her behavior was harmless.

He was far too good at penetrating her disguises, and in order to disarm him she'd have to be ultra careful.

If John had been one of the enemy agents she'd faced during the war, Parsifal might not have been so successful. Marguerite grinned to herself, eyes twinkling; this was another theory that her little plot would either confirm or disprove. Could Parsifal outsmart Roxton? One way or the other, she'd soon know.

She re-checked to be sure her small packages were completely concealed, then carefully cleared away all sign that she'd been here. Thank goodness Roxton and Veronica had lectured her unceasingly in the last three years about both following and concealing tracks in the jungle. It was coming in very handy now!

Of course, they hadn't meant for Marguerite to use it to conceal her movements and activities from the members of the tree house family . . . but Marguerite had always known how to turn the most well-intentioned ideas of others to her own advantage. It was one of the things she did best, so they shouldn't be too surprised when they finally realized what she'd been doing.

********

Finn's brow creased as she listened to the conversation. "I don't get it. Why are you guys so concerned just because you can't account for all of Marguerite's time?" she asked, puzzled.

Veronica patiently replied, "You don't know her as well as we do, Finn. When Challenger's expedition first arrived here, she was a very different person than she is today -"

"Exactly!" Roxton interrupted in irritation. "She's different today! You should be giving her the benefit of the doubt, Veronica, instead of suspecting that she's out there doing something that's going to endanger us," he argued.

"Marguerite did things to endanger you?" Finn repeated, intrigued. "Why?"

George Challenger stroked his beard one last time before he stirred from his thoughtful position and met the curious blue eyes of the newest member of the group. "Usually it was in an effort to gain wealth," he said simply.

Finn knew Marguerite had an attachment to valuable gems, just from the way the brunette dug up and packed along her little jewel pouches every time the group thought there was a possibility of finding a way off the plateau.

The girl from the future grinned as she remembered the beautiful lady's irritation when Finn had . . . . appropriated . . . the rough diamonds from the brunette's backpack during their first meeting in Finn's own time line. Yes, the older lady definitely valued her funny collections of stones.

But to endanger the others in pursuit of collecting them didn't seem to fit in with the protective attitude Marguerite exhibited toward the members of her tree house family. "I don't get it," Finn sighed again, pointing out this very observation to the others: "Marguerite would sooner jump off a cliff than see one of us in danger - even me!"

Roxton smiled his appreciation for her faith in his lady love, and then sent a baleful glare at Veronica and Challenger. "I agree."

"Then what's behind her mysterious behavior?" Challenger shook his head. "Now that Veronica raised the topic and I've stopped to consider it, she hasn't been in the lab as often as usual. Indeed, I can't recall her lounging about the library with a book or cataloging her gemstones, or any of the usual activities she pursues when you're away, John, and you've been away more than usual of late. Truth be told, I can't account for her recent whereabouts. If Veronica is right, then we need to take precautions, for her safety as well as ours. You know what she's capable of, John."

Veronica leaned forward, elbows on the table as she met John's resistant green eyes. "She says she's been gathering berries for our annual jam-making session, but she comes home every day with an amount that shouldn't have taken anywhere near as long to collect as she's been gone."

John shrugged. "I'll have to take your word for that. But she's probably just taking her time, enjoying plenty of rest breaks." His words were loyal but his tone was defensive, and he couldn't quite meet her gaze. Veronica wouldn't make a mistake about such a thing.

While Marguerite shirking her share of the work might have been probable last year, it wasn't likely today. She'd become quite a faithful worker. She hardly ever skipped out they way she had when they'd first settled here. Although she still grumbled about doing her chores, and occasionally dragged out the time to do them, no one could say she hadn't been pulling her weight these days.

Yet Veronica was insisting that she and Finn had been doing most of the tree house chores over the past several days, while Marguerite had volunteered to handle harvesting the berries. So if the slender dark-haired former heiress was not, in fact, bringing back a sufficient quantity to account for her time, then what was she doing? She hadn't mentioned doing anything else.

Veronica had called them together now, while Marguerite was supposed to be out at the berry patch again, to check on what each of the others knew about the absent lady's movements. She should've done this the very first day she'd noticed the discrepancy, but had put it off, hoping Marguerite would start bringing in a more appropriate amount of berries and thus alleviate her growing concern.

George Challenger, once his attention was caught by the questions Veronica asked, quickly became equally concerned. After all, he reasoned, it was only fairly recently that the explorers had searched for and gathered up every trace of the "treasure" Marguerite had so carefully amassed, and given it to the Travelers in their attempt to ransom her life. They'd only missed a few of her hidden caches, as she'd taken pains to point out with clear bitterness at the time. It was only to be expected that she'd been looking for a way to rebuild her hoarded riches.

Veronica didn't have anything more substantial that could be pointed to, but the fact that Marguerite was bringing home a smaller quantity of berries than she'd expected had stirred Veronica's suspicions. That tiny fact had reinforced a vague discomfort she'd been feeling about Marguerite. She couldn't put her finger on it, but had long ago learned never to ignore her instincts. After all, this was Marguerite she was worried about, not John Roxton.

With Marguerite, it could be anything at all.

Challenger spoke up again, enumerating the factors that merited concern. "I have to admit that I've been so engrossed in my current experiment that I haven't really noticed Marguerite's actions of late. However, she hasn't been at the lab to help as much this week as she did over the past eighteen months or so. I find that peculiar, because the two of us have been working together quite well since I realized how extensive her geological and general scientific knowledge really are. She seems to enjoy it, but she definitely hasn't been spending as much time in the lab as before. Moreover, the fact that I haven't noticed until now would seem to indicate that she has planned her absences carefully, so as not to be gone enough to call attention to her activities," the red-headed scientist mused.

Finn hadn't been there long enough to notice any changes in Marguerite's patterns of behavior, and didn't know enough about the former heiress's past to understand why it was wiser to pay close attention to her comings and goings. She just looked back and forth between the other three, and waited. She watched the tall hunter most, fascinated by his reluctance to believe that Marguerite might be up to mischief, when both the observant Veronica and the brilliant Challenger were worried.

John wasn't happy about considering the possibility that his Marguerite was once again focusing on gathering riches. He preferred to believe she had no need for riches now that they'd declared their love for one another.

In fact, he'd been pleased that she'd been focused on their relationship instead of on continuing to hunt for gems, and he'd hoped she was learning to find her security in him instead of in wealth.

Truth be told, though, he had been making far more hunting trips lately, and he had to concede that it had been mostly to humor Marguerite. She'd been longing for certain types of food, and he'd been willing to please her by seeking out what she wanted. The search for one hard-to-locate reptile that she had specifically requested, one that had a delicious flavor they all enjoyed when it was grilled, had even required a three-day period away from the tree house.

He shifted uneasily as he wondered whether Marguerite had been sending him away deliberately. Could she have been manipulating him, diverting his attention away from her own activities in order to evade the one person who knew her best? Was she using his love for her, his desire to please her, to give herself freedom from his observant eye while she pursued some plot to gather gemstones?

Reluctantly, he acknowledged to himself that if she thought he would object to what she was doing… if it was potentially dangerous . . . it was highly probable that she'd conceal it from him.

John also had to admit that there was a certain self-satisfied look that she'd worn a fair amount lately. It was definitely reminiscent of the early days on the plateau, when such unrelated details as all of these, taken together, usually meant Marguerite had located a new source of wealth for herself and was busy either actually gathering it, or plotting how to get someone else to help her gather it.

Seeing the reluctant acceptance in the handsome hunter's concern-darkened eyes, Veronica nodded, sitting back in her chair. "I'm not saying she'd deliberately endanger anyone, John," she said gently, sorry to see his worry. "I agree with you that she wouldn't do that anymore -"

"You mean she endangered you guys on purpose?!" Finn interrupted again, staring from one to the other of her companions, her eyes wide and intrigued. "Marguerite?" She'd noticed an edge to the brunette, of course, but had put it down to mere resistance to her inclusion in the tree house family. But now it seemed there might be more to Marguerite than just a lovesick lady.

She remembered when Challenger had been teaching her to read and she'd expressed dissatisfaction with his choice of "Alice in Wonderland" for her to read. She'd wanted something with guns, danger, adventure - fun! George had commented that Marguerite would be more familiar with that type of entertainment than he. She'd thought he was kidding, but now it seemed that he might have meant it!

She was going to have to cultivate her friendship with the eldest woman of the tree house now that she knew there was more to her than just her attachment to the handsome hunter and her good aim with a gun. "So what did she do, exactly?" she asked eagerly.

Veronica waved off the question. "I'll tell you later, Finn. Right now we have to decide how to handle it. We can't let her go head long into another one of her schemes without making sure she'll be okay - and that she won't be dragging the rest of us into something we don't want to mess with."

Challenger nodded. "I agree."

All three of the others looked at Lord John Roxton.

He sighed.

Was there ever going to be an end to having to keep Marguerite on the right path? If she really was on another mission to gather wealth, she was quite capable of leading them on a tangled, danger-ridden chase. It had amazed him, when the expedition had begun, how cool and calculating she could be when she was in pursuit of a goal. Of course, none of them had known much about her past, then.

Now that they knew she'd been a triple agent during the Great War, and wasn't "just" an international jewel thief, they had a much better understanding of Marguerite's difficulty with trusting others and her quickness to use others in achieving her aims. It actually made some sense for a spy to be that way, and somehow it seemed a little easier to accept her previous questionable actions toward the rest of the tree house dwellers.

When she'd admitted to being Parsifal not so long ago, Roxton had realized that he'd been saving Marguerite from potential danger since before he'd even actually met her. It had amused him at the time, realizing that he'd been feeling so protective about a woman who'd been one of the deadliest agents in the war . . . he could only marvel that he appeared fated to protect her, whatever her guise.

He seemed to be the only person in her life who'd ever seen beneath that cold-hearted exterior mask she'd donned for survival, to discover the lonely, vulnerable, gentle-hearted woman she really was. She'd been a constant delight to him these last few months as she blossomed under his tender loving care, softening and revealing more and more of her true heart to him.

But perhaps he'd relaxed too soon. He'd forgotten who he was in love with here. He'd have done better to remember that his charming, wonderful, enchanting lady had spent all her life until now immersed in intrigue, danger, and mystery. He should probably have prepared himself for a lifetime of unraveling her schemes and adventures, instead of relaxing his vigilance and imagining them raising children together.

He sighed and straightened his broad shoulders. Well, nothing had really changed. He'd appointed himself her guardian, and he certainly couldn't let her get hurt, or allow her to endanger the others, either. He would simply have to figure out what she was up to.

Lord John Roxton nodded. "I'll look into it," he promised.

Challenger and Veronica relaxed. John could handle Marguerite. Veronica rose from the table. "Good. Let's get dinner, Finn."

Finn followed willingly, her chair scraping noisily over the plank floor as she jumped to her feet. "Okay, if you'll tell me what Marguerite did."

Veronica grinned over her shoulder. "That would take a really long time. She's done quite a few things that endangered the rest of us."

"Really, Vee?" the younger blonde asked in delight. "And I thought she was so dull and stodgy!"

Roxton and Challenger exchanged amused looks. "I hope she never voices that opinion to Marguerite, or the fur will fly!" Challenger chuckled. "I'll be down in my lab." He, too, rose from the table, and disappeared down the stairs.

The hunter remained at the table, his smile fading as he considered the task ahead of him. He'd been lucky in the past when he'd dealt with Marguerite's machinations in pursuit of wealth. She was crafty and determined. He'd have to be very careful not to alert her to his observation. Especially if they were worried over nothing and she wasn't really doing anything they needed to be concerned about.

It had been a little while since he'd had to pit his instincts against Marguerite's wiles. And for the sake of the whole group, he had to be on his toes, at the top of his game. She was too bloody good at what she did to take anything for granted.

********

She strolled along to the berry patch, casually swinging the baskets, contentedly admiring the beauty of the day. A smile played about her lips as she hummed a tuneless melody. Not too hot, nice breeze, no predators in sight… John was following along behind her, hidden to the left of the trail, just out of sight. Could this day get any better?

This was going exactly as she had expected. Now all she had to do was take her sweet time about picking berries, and John would go back and report to the others that she wasn't up to anything other than taking advantage of being alone in order to goof off a little. It might take a couple days, but her housemates shouldn't have any real trouble believing she was only avoiding putting in a hard day's work; she'd done it often enough in the past, and it was going to come in handy now to have that as an established pattern of behavior.

Finn's sudden interest in talking to her, and the questions she'd asked last night, had confirmed to the former top-secret triple agent of the Great War that the others had been talking about her past when she wasn't with them, so they'd obviously been discussing their concerns.

Marguerite had never felt the inclination to fill Finn in on the fact that she'd been through as much danger and hardship in surviving as Finn had experienced in her young life in the future. She'd seen so many of her own hard-edged habits of self-preservation in the untrusting young girl who'd invited herself back to the past with them . . . so much that it had been almost painful to communicate with Finn at first.

But Finn was younger, and had adjusted to discovering family much more easily than Marguerite had. The girl was a funny mix of cynic and wondering child as she grew closer to everyone.

Marguerite could now understand why John had been so full of anxiety about her own original attitudes, and his pleasure in the changes that had occurred in her values and priorities since they'd been stranded here on the plateau. She supposed she must be feeling similar things now, as she watched Finn's devotion to self-survival ease and change as she lived among them.

Challenger's patient conversations and unstinted time with Finn had been instrumental in revealing a lively and affectionate young girl beneath the tough, cool façade. She'd become a member of their family much more smoothly than Marguerite had, especially since Veronica's arrival home.

Marguerite believed it had been the respect of the others for their missing hostess, and their fond tales of Veronica and her survival skills, that had drawn the competitive Finn to get to know "Vee" better when she'd returned with her mother's Trion. Finn's attempts to pit her own not-insignificant abilities against the slightly older plateau-born blonde had amused Veronica. With the same tolerance she might have shown for Marguerite - if Marguerite hadn't tried to sell Veronica to Jakoba before they'd known each other a month – the blonde had quickly begun to treat Finn as a somewhat pesky sister to be tolerated with resigned affection.

Perhaps if Marguerite, at Finn's age, had met someone like Veronica, she would've found it as easy as Finn did now . . . Well, probably not, Marguerite reflected. She'd never really been as "young" as Finn seemed.

By Finn's age, Marguerite had already been widowed twice and was wanted on two continents for her skill at opening safes and making off with the contents. Not that anyone back then had realized it was the delicate-seeming widowed green-eyed beauty, she grinned smugly to herself, but the growth of the reputation of this mysterious thief who pulled each theft without leaving behind clues had been such fun to nurture and monitor!

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and she was bound to be caught sooner or later. She'd been lucky to be caught red-handed by a government man who'd seen a better use for her skills than simply rotting away in jail. Not that she would've stayed in jail long.

She smiled absently as she paused to watch a mother bird scavenging for her babies' dinner, her thoughts continuing to dwell on her past.

Her life just before, and then during the war, had still been lived on the edge, with no one to rely on and too many "friends" and colleagues who were all-too ready to betray her, but at least it had been legitimate. No, looking back on it, even at Finn's age Marguerite would've been far less trusting than the future-girl was today.

Unless, perhaps, it had been John reaching out to her back then, as he had here on the Plateau. There was something hard to resist about the handsome Lord. Yes, perhaps if she'd met John when she was Finn's age, he might have reached her guarded heart even then. After all, he'd done it now, after she'd considered herself stone cold. He'd have touched her heart much faster in her youth.

But if she'd known John then, would she have become Parsifal? Could she have become Parsifal, if she'd had John's love to warm her? Could she have done the war work that needed to be done? Was she still Parsifal even now that she had John and the others?

Well, that was one of the things she was testing today, wasn't it? Marguerite detoured away from the path that led to the berry bushes, just to keep Roxton on his toes, and spent a little time stretched out on her stomach by a stream, watching the pretty colors of the fish who meandered by along the bottom.

She'd been working hard lately, and it felt kind of nice to stop like this, and just relax. Knowing it was actually part of her plan, a step forward in achieving her goal, was just icing on the cake, she decided, enjoying this game she was playing. It had been too long since she'd done something like this. She'd have to remind herself how much fun this was, and do it again soon.

Of course, she'd have to wait a sufficient length of time to allow the others to get over this little venture. Two months, perhaps. Or three.

Meanwhile, she was finding the day very diverting. She had plenty of time to think, a luxury almost unheard of since she'd landed on the plateau. There were always so many people around in the tree house, so many distractions and interruptions to hinder clear thinking.

She'd actually grown rather accustomed to it, she thought, rising gracefully to her feet as she decided it was time to move along. In fact, she'd been downright lonesome when Veronica and Ned had both been gone. She'd become so fond of both of them. She imagined she might have felt rather like this if the two of them truly were her younger sister and brother.

Marguerite wandered back onto the path to the berry patch, once again casually swinging the baskets, lost in thought about this special twosome who had somehow earned places in her heart without her realizing it. A smile flitted across her face.

Ned's ever-curious blue eyes, bashful grin, and awkward yearning for Veronica had been a constant source of amusement to her jaded mind. That, combined with his youthful admiration for John Roxton and his desire to be more adventurous, more daring, had afforded the sarcastic heiress plenty of fodder for teasing. She'd nearly driven poor Ned to violence more than once with her condescending teasing. But he'd always been willing to give her another chance, and she'd gradually come to see that his sensitivity wasn't weakness. Ned had only needed time and experience to develop into a solidly dependable, honorable man of proven courage and ingenuity.

Then there was Veronica. Marguerite had cordially despised the girl almost from the moment they'd met, and yet admired her as well. The blonde's optimism and innate sense of fair play had been as much an enigma to the adventuress as John Roxton had been. Veronica had proven to be another easy mark for Marguerite's vindictive humor. The older, more sophisticated woman had positively delighted in provoking the sun-bronzed plateau girl's wrath.

Marguerite wasn't entirely certain when their mutual antagonism had begun to change; perhaps it'd been as far back as when they'd fought Amazons together to try to save the men. Or maybe it had been when they'd both suspected that odious trophy-hunting Avery Burton of being a threat to the tree house group. Or it might have been their joint dislike of Danielle that had finally made them realize they weren't so different. All she knew for sure was that somewhere along the line, she'd come to think of Veronica as a friend. The truth was that Veronica was the first really nice female she'd ever had the privilege of claiming as a true friend.

Finn was altogether another matter. She'd certainly changed the dynamic of the tree house family. Truth be told, Marguerite thought "Vee" needed the new relationship as much as Finn did. It was good for Veronica to be the recipient of Finn's admiration, and she was enjoying the role of big sister. Marguerite had watched Veronica's developing closeness to Finn without rancor. She was now fairly secure in her own relationship with Veronica, developed through shared adventures over the last three years, too secure to be threatened by younger women's new friendship.

Besides, if she'd wanted Finn's devotion, Marguerite had known instinctively that should she chose to openly discuss her own past, it was likely that Finn would be just as impressed with Marguerite's background as she now was with Veronica's. Finn would relate to the finely-honed survival skills of the European woman, learned in a school of deprivation and suffering similar to Finn's, much more easily than she could relate to the more domesticated persona Marguerite had adopted since she and Roxton had become so close. But since Finn barely had any idea who Marguerite really was, so far they had simply given each other plenty of space.

That had changed last night, when Finn had suddenly shown an interest in getting to know Marguerite better under the guise of feeling badly that they hadn't spent much time together since Veronica had come home. This had instantly set off warning bells for Marguerite. And when the girl's questions, which Marguerite had cautiously allowed, had turned to her life before joining Challenger's expedition, she'd known that Finn's curiosity must have been primed by hearing the others discuss her.

And that meant her plan was working: the miniscule number of berries she'd been bringing back had triggered Veronica's alarm, and she could expect action from her over-protective suitor. She'd soon have him convinced that she wasn't up to anything that warranted their worry, and then she'd be free to carry out her plans.

Yeah, she thought with satisfaction as she sauntered along. The old pro hadn't lost any of her edge. She still had all her old triple-agent-Parsifal, international jewel thief, master-of-surviving-the-underworld skills. She was going to run circles around poor John!

She continued on to the berry patch, meandering along so slowly that by the time she arrived it was time for lunch. She found herself a patch of sunshine on the hillside and settled down on the grass, munching the fruit and dried raptor that she'd packed for herself today, and occasionally sipping from her canteen. Then she gathered wildflowers to put in her hair, dedicated an hour to braiding the flowers into her long curls, chased some butterflies just for fun, and took a little nap on the pleasant hillside amidst the wildflowers.

It was mid-afternoon before she actually picked a single berry, which meant that the amount of berries she finally took back to the tree house was consistent with the quantity she'd been bringing back each day. Perfect!

As she strolled back home in the late afternoon she was conscious of the same feeling of being watched that she'd enjoyed throughout the day. Poor John, having to skulk in the bushes following her, unable to relax and unable to come out and enjoy her company! This was just too much fun! She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed putting one over on someone else.

When she reached the tree house, she took the elevator up and handed the baskets to Veronica. "What a day! All that hot sun and dreary work! I think I'll just go lay down until dinner," she drawled, the perfect image of a weary worker as she smiled tiredly at Veronica.

Finn was sharply alert as Marguerite turned away, looking for whatever it was that was tipping her idol to trouble from the slim brunette. But whatever it was Veronica saw, Finn couldn't see it. Marguerite looked the same as always to her.

Veronica waited until Marguerite had gone down to her bedroom, then checked the contents of the baskets and shook her head in disgust. "We'd better figure out what's going on soon, or we're only going to have enough berries to make six months worth of jam instead of enough to last a year."

Finn looked into the baskets and shrugged. She liked the tasty jam they enjoyed at the tree house breakfasts, but had no idea how many berries it took to actually make the sweet stuff. "Want me to go with her tomorrow, Vee?" she asked eagerly. Maybe she could coax a few more of the exciting stories out of the now-intriguingly-mysterious European woman.

When Marguerite had reluctantly favored her with two tales last night - both about eluding capture by master crime fighters who had nearly figured out that she was the mysterious jewel thief - her narration had only whet Finn's appetite to know more. The young girl from the future had enough experience at dodging danger to know that the gray-green-eyed lady had withheld as much or more than she'd revealed, and she was hoping to find a way to convince Marguerite to give her the details she'd left out the first time through, as well as to hear more tales of her adventurous life.

"Vee?" she repeated when Veronica didn't answer her; she'd turned to watch the elevator as it rose again.

John stepped off. He was dusty, disgruntled, and drained. He hung his hat on its hook, stowed his rifle and backpack, then shook his head at Veronica's raised brow. "I was right. She just took her sweet time the whole day. She only actually picked berries for about two hours."

"What did she do all day?" Finn asked curiously, wide-eyed and wondering what exploits Marguerite had enjoyed instead of picking the berries.

"She watched fish swim in a stream." Lord John Roxton snapped, disgusted at his inactive day. "She chased butterflies. She picked flowers. She played with her hair. She looked at the clouds. She even took a bloody nap. She's had herself a fine old time, and I wasted the day!"

Veronica ought to have been relieved, but somehow his report didn't wipe away the feeling that Marguerite was up to something. "You'd better watch her again tomorrow, John."

He glowered at her, and let his body language answer her as he turned his back and stalked down the stairs and into his room.

"Vee?" Finn prompted hopefully. "I'll watch her tomorrow."

Veronica gave a snort of laughter. "That would be like sending the canary to watch the cat!" she grinned.

"Huh?"

"Never mind, Finn. No, we have to leave it to Roxton for now."

Finn already knew better than to try to reason with that tone of voice when Veronica used it. She sighed. Then she brightened. "Maybe since Marguerite had a nap this afternoon, she'd be willing to tell me some more about her life tonight!"

Veronica rolled her eyes. Then she suddenly grinned, too, her face brightening as much as Finn's had a moment earlier. Actually, watching Marguerite trying to avoid telling Finn anything revealing about her past could prove to be kind of fun! "Sure, Finn, but why don't you wait and ask her after dinner?"

---

John Roxton squatted down behind the tree trunk, leaning on his rifle, and peered carefully through the jungle undergrowth. He absently swatted at a mosquito that buzzed about his ear.

This was the fifth day in a row he had been following Marguerite. She'd spent the second and third days not picking berries, for the most part, until Veronica finally got fed up with her poor harvest results and sent Finn instead.

Marguerite hadn't seemed unduly upset about it. She'd cheerfully accepted laundry duty instead, and had proceeded to spend yesterday faithfully doing the tree house laundry. Other than stopping for lunch and taking her time on the trail back and forth from the stream with fresh water, she'd worked at it pretty diligently.

Roxton had been bored silly, with nothing to do other than slap at the bloody mosquitoes that seemed to have come out in force in the last week. Worse than being covered with mosquito bites, though, was the fact that he'd begun to feel horridly guilty about spying on the unsuspecting woman. She really hadn't done anything wrong, other than stealing some time to herself to enjoy a few lazy days. Now her little self-granted holiday seemed to be over.

Like yesterday, today she was doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing. She hadn't even dawdled over her lunch this time, but had promptly returned to her assigned task of collecting plants for Challenger's latest experiment.

And he, Lord John Richard Roxton, a Peer of the Imperial Realm of Great Britain, honored for his integrity and renowned for his hunting skill, notorious for his winning way with the ladies, had spent far too much time skulking behind trees and beneath jungle thorn bushes, spying on her yet again.

Roxton decided that this was the last day he was going to do this.

He was getting behind in his own chores, and he didn't like having to lie to Marguerite when she asked about his day. He felt like such a heel! Just this morning she'd pouted so prettily, and said she wished he could go along with her today; she missed his company! And he'd lied yet again, saying he couldn't come plant hunting with her because he had to restock their sulfur supply.

Veronica and Challenger had gotten him all worked up about nothing. He should've had more faith in her. She wasn't the same woman she'd been last year, or even six months ago!

Marguerite wasn't doing anything wrong. Why, even now his lovely Marguerite was kneeling, carefully digging up yet another of the herb species on Challenger's list, with the most contented expression on her face! She obviously liked what she was doing and was enjoying it whole-heartedly.

It was way past time that they all stopped suspecting everything she did, and started trusting her! And he was going to tell the others so the minute he stepped back into the tree house tonight!

---

Marguerite started out down the trail and waited for her sixth sense to kick in. She'd almost always been able to tell when someone was following her; it had been a deciding factor in keeping her alive more times than she could count. Of course, the prickles she felt at the back of her neck when John followed her weren't the same as those that gave her goose bumps when it was assassins stalking her.

No, it was far more pleasurable when John was keeping watch over her. She'd felt those keen, knowing eyes following her since they'd first met in Challenger's study so long ago now. It had confused her to find herself so aware of him all of the time, to feel his presence as soon as he was near. Until meeting John Roxton, such an awareness had meant danger in her life, urging her to wariness and distrust. So it had taken a while to realize that with John, although he was indeed hunting her, it wasn't a threat to her life but only to the walls around her heart.

He'd been the biggest puzzle of her life. And given her life, that was saying something!

She'd never before met a man willing to repeatedly risk his life for others, even for a woman who continually rejected both his attempts at friendship and at romance. She'd thought such a man only existed on the pages of novels and the dreams of foolish young girls. But she'd gradually come to realize that this tall, handsome hunter with the soft wavy hair, deep smoky voice, strong caring arms, and discerning dark hazel-green eyes was the genuine thing: A hero. Her hero.

A hero who saw through every façade she'd created to protect her heart from further betrayal and pain, whose eyes on her made her tingle, she'd eventually realized, not with warnings of danger but with stirrings of this previously only-dreamt-of thing called love.

She'd come to like the feeling of knowing he was watching over her with his own unique brand of caring, desire, and admiration, combined with his uncanny knack for catching on to the emotions she had kept hidden away from everyone else in her life - although she wasn't all that comfortable with that last part, she admitted to herself with chagrin.

But there were no warm green eyes admiring her at this moment. He wasn't following her today. And she knew Veronica and Finn were well on the way to the Zanga village, and Challenger was deeply immersed in another experiment.

John had made a point of leaving the tree house early today, heading out to go hunting after giving her a tender kiss that had made her heart skip a beat, and telling her to have a nice day.

She'd thought there was a possibility that he might suspect she was aware of his surveillance, only pretending to leave early in an attempt to make her drop her guard. But now she was sure he'd simply been exercising faith in her, leaving her on her own when no one else was available to watch her.

Perfect!

Marguerite almost felt sorry for him. She'd sensed his growing frustration and guilt with each day his surveillance had continued. He was such a darling! Not for the first time since starting to work on this particular plot, she wished she could take him into her confidence and tell him what she had in mind.

It would be so much more fun to plan all of this with Roxton. She'd grown to like having his company and doing things with him. She couldn't remember why she'd found his constant desire to be with her so stifling at first. Now it felt strange to be doing this without him. It was almost as if she was missing a part of herself.

But the success of her plan depended on keeping him in the dark. And preventing her devoted suitor from discovering what she was up to meant continuing to mislead him. Odd, deceiving John hadn't used to trouble her so much. Although she liked to tease her tall, handsome hero, she'd discovered that she didn't like being the cause of the pained uncertainty that she'd witnessed in his gentle eyes the last couple days. She hadn't counted on it taking five whole days to convince him everything was fine. Perhaps she was getting soft; she might've given in and put him out of his growing misery if it had taken much longer.

How had John ever managed a career in military intelligence work with that easily-read countenance? Or perhaps it was only with her that he wore his heart on his sleeve, as she seemed to do with him. She pushed aside the familiar warm feeling that arose at the remarkable thought of his love for her, firmly reminding herself that this innocent little manipulation was for the best if her ingenious plot was to work.

At least she'd put the time to good use. Not only had she enjoyed the most relaxing five days she'd known in the last three years and the most pleasantly stimulating as she skillfully defused their investigation - but the quiet hours had given her all the time necessary to work out the rest of the timing for "Part Two" of her little intrigue.

Now she was ready to start implementing the details. Success lay in attention to details. The trickiest part would be keeping them out of the way while she was working on the final preparations for her coup de grace.

An unholy gleam lit her eyes as she thought of the plans she would set in motion today. Everything was coming together just perfectly!

If Roxton had seen the mischievous grin on his beloved's lovely face at that moment, he wouldn't have been feeling so badly about not having more faith in her over the last five days - and he would've been bracing himself uneasily for what was to come.

Marguerite was in full pursuit of her goal.

The question was, would all this work yield the treasure she so coveted?

---

George Challenger looked up from his experiment with a curious frown. Now what was that sound?

Who would be up at midnight - oh, well, closer to dawn, he realized as he glanced at the clock in his lab. But still, it was quite early for anyone to be using the elevator. Except perhaps John or Veronica, preparing to depart for hunting.

He picked up the notebook containing his latest results as he left his lab and walked up the stairs to greet whichever occupant of the tree house had arisen so soon. Maybe they would be making a fresh pot of coffee before they left, and he could join them for a bit.

It had been a nice quiet nine days, since they'd accepted that Marguerite had simply been granting herself a little vacation at the expense of this year's jam supply. Once Roxton had reassured Veronica, things had rapidly returned to normal.

Except for Finn's continued fascination with Marguerite's past. He was a little concerned about that.

Finn emulating Veronica's gymnastics and following her around to learn the necessary jungle survival skills was acceptable and, indeed, desirable. As the default tree house patriarch, he had no objection to such pursuits; they were character-developing.

However, Finn dedicating herself to mastering some of the skills that had enabled Marguerite to survive alone before coming to the plateau, now that made the hair rise on the back of his neck, even though Marguerite was not actively encouraging Finn in the endeavor.

The youngest member of his little flock had been teasing Marguerite rather relentlessly for tales of her past, including stories of the time on the plateau before Finn had joined them. Marguerite had born Finn's pestering with incredible patience, tolerating the younger girl's impertinent prying with far more patience than she'd exhibited when dealing with Ned's early questions about her past.

Fortunately, Marguerite wasn't easily manipulated - except by the wily hunter, George smirked to himself. She'd pacified Finn by agreeing to give her several stories - yes, true ones, she'd promised. But she'd limited her narrations to what the others were sure were only minor incidents from her exotic career. She told only a few stories of her life before the expedition, sticking to accounts of plateau activities for the most part.

Challenger reflected that, all-in-all, Marguerite had handled Finn well. She'd quelled Finn's desire to learn to put out a candle with a whip, as Marguerite had mentioned doing when impressing the lizard Centuria, by labeling it "a useless trick acquired by those with too much time on their hands". Then the canny adventuress had assured Finn that if the younger girl had that much free time, she'd be glad to teach her to sew instead. Finn had quickly dropped the topic.

And when, inevitably, Finn had borrowed Marguerite's whip to try it out, she'd quickly given up her desire to master the weapon after it was necessary for an unsympathetic Marguerite to put three stitches in Finn's chin, warning the embarrassed youngster that the next time it might be her eye. Masterfully handled, Challenger chuckled to himself.

Also, even when she did talk of her pre-plateau days, the cautious "entrepreneur" (as she called herself, to the amusement of the others) had obviously left out enough information that none of her listeners would be able to identify a specific theft as having been committed by Marguerite when and if they finally got home to England. George had also noted appreciatively that the former adventuress never gave Finn enough specific details to tempt the curious younger girl to recreate of any her escapades.

So their days had passed in blessed quiet work, for the most part, and their evenings in bantering about the exploits Finn coaxed out of Marguerite, who then demanded tales from each of the others as well. "Turn about is fair play," the brunette had insisted, refusing to share any more tales of her own until the others took a turn telling their own stories.

Marguerite had been an effective moderator, leading each of them to contribute stories and ensuring everyone enjoyable evenings spent together. The former heiress had even expected Finn to take a turn telling them an adventure from the future. Finn had been almost as delighted to find that the others were interested in her life story as she was at hearing their adventures.

Yes, it had been a most pleasant nine days, indeed, he mused to himself as he reached the last of the steps to the upper level of the tree house. He set his open notebook on the table, ready for his perusal while he drank a cup of either coffee or tea, depending on which his housemates were up. He paused briefly to glance over the diagrams analyzing his results. Hmm, that was a trend he should pursue… After he had his drink in hand, he reminded himself before he could be sidetracked.

He looked up and glanced around. Odd. No coffee, no tea cozy. He glanced at the rifle rack, expecting to see Roxton's rifle gone. Roxton never waited long enough for either coffee or tea if he was leaving early. Once he was up, he wanted to be on the hunt.

But Roxton's rifle wasn't the one missing. It was Marguerite's rifle that was gone from the rack.

Now that was most unusual. Marguerite up early and gone, without Roxton?

Suddenly alert, George Challenger frowned and thought back to when he'd heard the elevator. The bamboo cage was up now, not even swaying. Had he heard its movement once, or twice? He looked back down at his notebook, and his face scrunched up as he concentrated. Yes, he'd heard it when he was going over these figures . . . and again when he'd gone over this other column. The elevator had gone down, then had been sent back up again, for the security of those who remained in the tree house.

She'd gone out alone.

Then George spotted a note on the kitchen table. A quick glance showed it was indeed Marguerite's writing; she'd decided to go to the Zanga village to barter for some material to make some new shirts.

He sighed in relief. For a minute there he had been afraid the unpredictable Marguerite had been up to something after all.

Oh, well. He would heat the water himself. It shouldn't be all that long until the others were up. He resolutely closed his notebook to avoid being distracted, stoked the fire and set the water to boil. Then he returned to the table to resume working while waiting. "What's this?!" he exclaimed incredulously as he noticed an error in his calculations the second he flipped the pages open again. "How on earth could I possibly make such a ludicrous error?!" Appalled with his unusual lapse, he grumbled irately as he stalked back downstairs with the notebook to correct the figures. "This is going to set the whole experiment back at least three hours," he scolded himself.

The next thing he knew, John was grinning at him, placing a cup of coffee on the worktable in front of him. "Good morning, George. Up all night again?" the hunter asked knowingly.

"Well, so much to learn, so little time," George replied, absently reaching for the cup as his eyes returned to the calculations.

"Yes, I know," John smiled. "Veronica has breakfast almost ready. Finn is setting the table. You should come up and join us for breakfast."

"In a moment," the lanky scientist agreed.

Roxton shook his head. He knew if he left George down here he'd forget the time again and never make it to breakfast. He took his friend's arm. "Come along, George. Come and get it while it's hot," he teased, tugging the slightly taller man away from his worktable with irresistible pressure.

"Oh, very well," Challenger sighed with one last longing look over his shoulder at the notebook as John led him out of his laboratory and up the stairs. Then, having no choice, he gave his attention to John and the women. "Good morning, ladies. I trust you slept well?"

"G'morning, Challenger," Finn replied cheerfully with a grin over her shoulder, while Veronica graced the men with a broad smile from her place at the fireside. Then Finn frowned at the resident genius. "George, did you work all night again?" she asked disapprovingly. His hair, always a little on the uncombed side, looked like he'd been trying to pull it out, and his clothes were terribly rumpled.

"Yes, well, I am having a little trouble with one factor," he replied vaguely.

"Can I help?" Finn volunteered in an off-hand manner that didn't fool any of the older residents of the tree house. They all knew she'd grown particularly fond of the scientist. "I could keep an eye on something for you while you rest up a bit."

Marguerite might be his right hand in the lab, but it was Finn who had appointed herself his watchdog, trying to get him to rest more, eat more regularly, and get out in the fresh air more often when he was immersed in these complex experiments.

George smiled affectionately at the younger blonde. The most help she'd actually been so far had been to record that an experiment had turned black by four o-clock, although he only knew that because Veronica had discreetly interpreted "For black" for him when he'd found it penciled onto his chart. But there was nothing in the lab that she could hurt, and it would please her to do something for him, so he nodded.

"After breakfast, I'll show you what to do while I sleep," he promised. That gave him about half an hour to think of something that would give her a concrete task, perhaps including some more writing and spelling practice for her education.

Finn beamed happily, and finished setting the table by pouring juice into the glasses as Veronica brought out the platter of pancakes.

"I'll go get Marguerite," John volunteered, his light brown eyes sparkling as he envisioned waking his sleeping beauty, who hadn't shown her face yet this morning.

"Oh, she's not here," George said simply, taking his seat at the table and reaching for his glass. Oh, good, anyaba fruit juice. He really should pursue Arthur's intention to cultivate this remarkable tree, so they could take it back and introduce the nutritious and tasty fruit to England.

"She's not here?" John repeated curiously, pausing in the act of turning toward her room.

Veronica and Roxton exchanged suddenly wary looks.

"No, she went to the Zanga village to do some trading for something or other - didn't you see the note she left?" he looked up at Veronica. "It was here on the table."

"No," Veronica said slowly, "I didn't see any note. Finn?"

"Me, either," Finn shrugged, taking her own seat.

"When did you see this note?" Roxton asked quietly.

"Oh . . . Let's see. I heard the elevator, thought it was probably one of you getting ready to go hunting, and came up to join you for coffee. But all I found was Marguerite's note. I guess it was a little before sunrise."

Roxton visibly tensed. "Marguerite left the tree house before sunrise? You didn't think that was odd?"

"Well, yes, I did, until I found the note…" His voice trailed away, and he began to flush. "Oh, no. Marguerite, before sunrise."

Even Finn knew nothing good could have gotten Marguerite out of bed and out of the tree house before sunrise. She stared at Challenger, wide-eyed, amazed that a man of his genius could have missed such an obvious fact.

Challenger sprang to his feet. "Find that note!" he ordered. "Perhaps I misread it, or there's more to it!"

The two women joined him searching the floor and the chairs, and then the corners of the room where the wind might have blown a scrap of paper.

John, however, went back down to the lab. It didn't take him long to find the note stuck to the bottom of Challenger's notebook. He brought it back upstairs. "You were right, George. It says she's hiking to the village to trade for cloth. But there has to be more to it than that."

They might have believed this little piece of misdirection she'd left behind, after being convinced that she wasn't up to anything during the dealings of the past several weeks - if Challenger hadn't been awake to notice how early she'd left. She probably hadn't counted on that.

All four of them knew that Marguerite wouldn't get up before sunrise just to walk to the Zanga village. This note was meant to mislead them into thinking she was safe and sound in one place, when she was probably somewhere else entirely.

But where was she headed? What crazy scheme was she hatching now? Where could she have spotted a new source of gems to replace her former treasure? A list of dangerous possibilities flashed through John's mind as he hurriedly began to gather his guns and backpack.

Veronica dashed from the room, and returned tucking her knives into their sheaths, then reached for her water bag and medicine bag.

"I'm sorry, John," the chagrined scientist apologized as he plopped his hat onto his head and picked up his own rifle. "I should have been paying more attention! Now she has a good ninety minute lead."

"It's not your fault, George," the hunter assured him grimly. "I'm the one who convinced you that there was nothing to worry about."

Finn joined them in getting ready to leave, retrieving her crossbow and a supply of darts from the weapons rack, but gave Veronica a questioning look as they waited for the two men to finish gathering supplies. "Why are you all so worried? We've been talking all week about her being this tough spy lady; can't she take care of herself?"

Veronica nodded. "Ordinarily, yes. But ordinarily, she wouldn't hesitate to rope one or more of us into helping her mine her precious stones when she finds them. And this time, she's gone to a lot of trouble to make sure none of us is with her. That means that wherever she's headed, it's dangerous. So dangerous that she either believes we might be endangered, so she doesn't want us near it… Or it's so dangerous that she knows Roxton won't let her near it."

Finn understood. "So," she summed up, "Marguerite is protecting us from possible danger, but she wanted whatever it was badly enough to take the risk for herself."

"Right," Veronica nodded grimly, tapping one booted foot impatiently as she waited for both men to be ready.

Challenger came upstairs with the first aid supplies, and Roxton came out of the storage room with extra ammunition. "Right. Let's get going."

The others kept silent as they rode the elevator down. Finn had never seen Roxton look so angry, yet so worried at the same time. Veronica and Challenger had seen John like this before, but it had been a while. They understood exactly what was going through the frustrated hunter's mind.

She had snookered him! She had snookered all of them! It was all clear as day now. She'd set the whole thing up! The only thing she hadn't counted on was George being up all night, and his knowing she'd left before sunrise. Otherwise they'd never have known something was wrong.

Unfortunately, she was Parsifal. She'd undoubtedly covered every contingency, even her absence being discovered sooner than she hoped. "If she really doesn't want us to know what she's up to, she's likely to have made a number of plans to send us in the wrong direction," John noted grimly as they started out the gate of the electric fence. "But she didn't plan to be gone overnight, or she would've said so in her note to keep us from worrying. She has to be within a half day's march of home. So if we have to split up, let's meet back here at the tree house at dusk to compare notes. And whichever one finds her should fire three shots, or, in your case," he spared a quick look away from Marguerite's boot prints, to Veronica and Finn, who had no percussive weapons, "Do the jungle drums 'all clear' signal."

"Right," Veronica nodded.

Thankfully, despite his fears, Marguerite had left only one trail away from the tree house. It was clear and easy to follow. She'd apparently not anticipated every eventuality after all, he decided with relief, so she'd taken no trouble to hide the direction she'd gone.

Veronica, not as angry and worried as John, noticed this fact. She paused and studied Marguerite's trail with a puzzled look. "She's running. Why is she running?" she asked.

John gave her an impatient look. "You know Marguerite when she's got gold fever," he snapped. "It just means we've got to hurry; she'll be in trouble all the sooner!"

Veronica slowed down more instead of speeding up. "No, this is Marguerite we're talking about here. And this isn't one of her seize-the-moment-and-improvise scenarios. She's planned out every detail of this. There has to be a reason she's running. And I think it's because she wants to worry you and get us to hurry. We're going to miss something if we're not careful," she warned.

George nodded, immediately seeing the huntress's point. "I think she's right, John. We have to pay close attention, or she's going to lose us somehow."

John sighed, swallowing back his anger at the delay, and forced himself to think. It took only a moment to conclude that they were right. He had to keep a clear head if Marguerite was in danger. He couldn't afford to let his anxiety cloud his judgment. Her life might very well depend on his ability to find her now.

He was going to kill her himself, just as soon as he found her!

---

Marguerite crouched in the bushes, watching with merry eyes as the four of them passed. Yes! It was working perfectly!

It was rather gratifying to see them all looking so concerned about her welfare, though John also looked more infuriated than she'd seen him in a long time. She wondered if it was because he thought she was deliberately endangering herself, or because he'd realized that they'd been completely out-maneuvered. Probably a combination of both, she decided. She hoped John got over being angry before he caught up with her. It would spoil all the fun, if he stayed angry.

It had taken so long for them to show up that she'd begun to be afraid they'd somehow bought her whole Zanga trading story after all!

Not that she really wanted them to worry, despite having planned it this way. They'd come across her first reassurance in about five minutes. They'd slowed down, just as she'd intended when she dashed away from the compound so carefully. They couldn't miss it, as long as they held to this pace.

Very considerate of Veronica to slow John down enough that they couldn't possibly bypass the signs she'd left, she grinned smugly to herself. Did Marguerite know her 'marks'? Yes, she surely did! And they were behaving just as she'd expected.

It was going to drive them crazy, trying to figure out what she was doing!

She waited until they were out of sight in the jungle brush before rising and stepping back out onto her own trail. Then she turned in the opposite direction and moved quickly. The clock was counting down now until they closed in on her. There was a limited amount of time left, and still so much to do before she could claim her treasure!

She'd already retrieved her little packages from their hiding place, first thing this morning. They were safely in her backpack. And the other things she'd worked on ahead of time needed only a little more effort to be ready, but she couldn't risk the chance that she'd underestimated Lord Roxton or Veronica.

Far better to have everything complete ahead of schedule, and then wait, than to have them catch up to her before she could finish.

Marguerite couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up as she jogged along to her destination. She hadn't had this much fun since she'd spent that night unlocking all the doors in Kaiser Wilhem's top security offices and leaving them ajar. What a stir that had caused!

*********

John spotted the slip of paper tied to the jungle iris, and stopped in his tracks.

"What is it?" Veronica asked, then followed his gaze to the surprising item. She glanced back to his frozen position and then stepped forward and gently untied the blue ribbon that held the little scroll to the stem of the bloom. She handed the note to the hunter and waited expectantly.

He automatically accepted it, but held it for a long moment before he carefully unrolled it, glanced at it, then looked up at the others with a nod, finally breathing again. "Yeah, it's from Marguerite," he said in resignation. "She apparently expected us to follow her. It says we shouldn't worry, that she's not in any danger."

Veronica snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Come on," John sighed. "Let's go see what she's up to."

Not entirely reassured, they nonetheless proceeded with less tension. The brunette still wasn't even trying to hide her trail, even though she apparently knew they were following. That would imply that she wasn't worried about endangering them, which also meant there was less chance that she was endangering herself.

But what in the world was she doing, then? Why all the manipulation?

They found the next tiny scroll tied to a twig with more blue ribbon.

"Hey, isn't this stuff from one of her nightgowns?" Finn asked, examining the little piece of cloth curiously as she took a turn untying it and passing the note to Roxton.

Veronica took a closer look at the piece of lace she still carried from finding the first scroll, and nodded. "I think you're right, Finn. Good eye," she approved.

Finn grinned. "Thanks, Vee."

George looked at the little note over John's shoulder as he unrolled it. Her careful, elegant script filled the little piece of parchment. "I think that's the paper she made a couple months ago in the lab," he said in surprise. The others all turned to look at him and he explained, "Marguerite was experimenting with different plant fibers, exploring methods to make new paper for Ned when he returns. This looks like the result. Didn't she tell you about it?"

"No," John admitted. "It was her idea?"

"Oh, yes. Her idea, and her project. She did ask me for recommendations about what plants to try, but the whole thing was her own pursuit. She's been working on it since before Ned left. I had almost forgotten about it. But this is the result of her work, I'm certain. Her end result was this same bluish shade."

"Well, I've certainly never seen paper like it on the plateau before," Veronica said thoughtfully, touched that Marguerite had been thinking of Ned in such a tangible way.

"What's this one say, big guy?" Finn asked John, trying to peer around Veronica to see the script.

"She says," John reported with a puzzled frown, "That she has a surprise for us." He looked up and met the questioning eyes of the others, shrugging. "That's all it says."

"Hmm." George began to smile. "I think our Marguerite has been toying with us."

"I don't get it," Finn frowned.

Veronica sighed. "I don't either. But this is Marguerite we're dealing with here. I don't think we're going to understand it until she wants us to understand it. Come on, let's keep following this trail she left for us," she said in resignation, though she had to admit to herself that she was intrigued. What could Marguerite be up to?

The next note was dangling over Marguerite's trail from a flowering vine, hanging within easy reach. This one asked them to forgive her for any worry she'd caused.

They had to laugh at the familiar audacity.

First she deliberately convinced them that she was in danger so that they'd follow her trail. Of course, she'd known it would take believing she was in serious trouble to get all four of them to follow this trail at the same time. And now she had the nerve to ask their forgiveness before they even knew what it was all about!?

If nothing else, it was a very scenic walk. She seemed to know where to find all the most beautiful vistas, full of jungle flowers, and her trail led them through a veritable garden as they collected her little scrolls.

The next note was tied with a pert blue bow to a sweet-smelling golden flower with several dozen silky petals that extended like spokes from a dark hub. "This was one of my mother's favorites," Veronica said softly, caressing the colorful petals. "I didn't know any still grew around here."

That note told them to be patient; they would have answers soon.

Veronica chuckled wryly. The message was a pun only Veronica understood until she explained, "She's been reading my mother's journals. This flower is called Patience."

"Wow," Finn said. "It's so pretty!"

John finally relaxed as they resumed walking. If she was making jokes now, she honestly wasn't in any trouble. She was all right. Once they caught up to her, she'd tell them what she was up to. What could it be?

They discussed it as they followed her trail from one fragrant flower to another, one little scroll to the next. One of her notes just teased them that they were slowing down. Another said, "Isn't this a lovely day?" Yet another told them to go twenty feet to the east if they'd been in such a hurry to follow her that they had left their canteens behind. When they curiously followed her directions, they found a bubbling spring encircled by tiny pink buds that gave off an intriguingly spicy aroma. Whether it was the scent of the flowers or the water itself, they were strangely refreshed by drinking from the spring.

They almost lost Challenger there as he was sank down on his knees to examine the flower species, which he'd never seen before. He was sure Arthur Summerlee would've wanted him to add this one to his collection. He only moved back toward Marguerite's trail, reluctantly, when Roxton promised to come back another time and secure some samples for him.

The next note, placed soon after this, asked if Challenger was still with them, making them all laugh at her perceptiveness.

Then there were a series of riddles. Marguerite wrote the question on one note, and its answer on the next one. Guessing at the answers as they moved from note to note kept them all laughing and joking as they proceeded along her carefully-laid trail.

Finally Marguerite's notes led them into an open field, where her trail vanished.

They stopped and looked around, puzzled. Why would she lead them here? Had something happened to her, to suddenly end her trail?

"Spread out," Challenger advised. "There has to be something she wants us to find." He paced out into the middle of the meadow.

Finn headed to the left, and Veronica to the right. Roxton stopped where he was and thought about it.

Hmm, no more trail. It was Marguerite leading them around like this. He had to think like Marguerite. Here in South America, she basically only knew what he and Veronica had taught her about following a trail, and she evidently wanted them to be able to follow this trail she was laying. So what had they taught Marguerite to do if she reached a place where there was no more trail to follow?

Turn around, retrace your steps until you found where you'd lost the trail, or saw something else you recognized that you could follow. That's what he and Veronica had told Marguerite time and time again.

He turned around, and looked back the way they had just come, then grinned. She'd actually listened to their lectures!

There was a new message tied to a tree they'd passed, but in a position that could only be seen if they came at it from this direction. "Found it!" he called to the others, and went to get it.

This note said, "You must all be hungry. Come home." Roxton frowned. Come home? Back to the tree house?

"Where did you find it?" Challenger asked, arriving back at the hunter's side.

The handsome nobleman explained how he'd found this latest note, then read it to them. "I think our little game is over. She wants us to go home."

They were just as puzzled as John.

"Hey, you know, this isn't far from the tree house," Veronica pointed out to the others. "We've been traveling in a big arc for the last three and a half hours. The windmill clearing is just over this hill. She must have planned it this way."

"Now, why would she want to make us think she was in danger and march us around the plateau all morning just to lead us home again in time for lunch?" Challenger mused thoughtfully. "We haven't been gone long enough for her to get into much mischief. There's only one logical answer. She wanted all of us away from the tree house for a defined period of time."

Veronica groaned, mind suddenly filled with visions of Marguerite having rearranged all the furniture. She'd also mentioned more than once that the Layton's books and journals needed to be rooted through and reorganized, out of date ones burned to make room for Challenger and Ned's new ones. "You don't think she'd have taken it on herself to go through my library, do you?" she asked uneasily, more disturbed by this possibility than the idea of shifted furniture.

John shook his head without hesitation. "No, I'm sure she wouldn't. She has more respect for people's property than that, Veronica," he reassured her. "But I wouldn't put it past her to have engineered all this just to give herself plenty of time to hide whatever new treasures she might've been accumulating, without any of us chancing upon her while she was doing it."

Challenger nodded, and mused, "She's been careful in preparing this trail to keep us well away from any paths used by predators, and to make it a pleasant and entertaining walk. I believe that should indicate that whatever she's been plotting will not be something we'll be annoyed about, but will be - at least in her opinion - enjoyable."

"Well, let's go," Finn said enthusiastically, accepting Challenger's opinion as fact and immediately starting directly back toward the tree house. "I want to know what's waiting at home!"

The other three exchanged pleased looks. This was the first time Finn had called the tree house "home"!

"Hey, are you guys coming, or what?" she called impatiently. "Marguerite's waiting for us!"

John Roxton fell into step at the end of the line, and shook his head, hoping that for once, whatever it was, Marguerite's plotting, as George had called it, was going to lead to something none of them would regret.

It wasn't that she deliberately set out to annoy, anger, or hurt the other members of the tree house family, at least, not most of the time. But she had so little experience with being part of a family that often things she didn't think twice about ended up causing unhappy consequences. Her methods and reasoning simply hadn't yet caught up with her heart.

Oh well, all he could do was cross his fingers, hope for the best, and be prepared to pick up the pieces from whatever fallout might occur.

**********

When she heard the elevator rising, she spun, suddenly nervous. What if they didn't like it?

What if they were still mad at her for making them think she was in danger?

What if they -

Too late, they were here.

She took a deep breath, and warily faced the elevator.

Veronica stepped off first and stopped, her jaw dropping as she stared around her home. She took several more steps in, stunned. She hadn't imagined this possibility!

Finn moved around her, and her blue eyes went wide with delighted awe.

Challenger stared at the sight that met their eyes and murmured, "Oh, my!"

Roxton automatically took off his hat and stood stock still, staring at the transformation that had overtaken the inside of the tree house.

Everything was spotlessly clean, from the polished plank flooring to the gleaming fireplace hearth and mantle. The main room and kitchen were decorated with yards and yards of gauzy bluish paper streamers that hung in curlicues from every rafter. There was a banner of large cut-out letters strung on blue ribbon, over the fireplace, spelling out "Happy Anniversary".

The table was laid with Veronica's mother's best china, the center of the table filled with a plethora of food set out in the china serving bowls. Fresh fruit, artfully cut vegetables, and - incredibly - in the very center of the table, a beautiful layer cake! There were several bottles of Zanga wine ready to be opened and poured. And there were neatly wrapped gifts at each place at the table, even Marguerite's and Ned Malone's.

Marguerite herself stood near the balcony, dressed in her usual khaki skirt and her blue silk blouse, her hands clasped together before her as she anxiously watched their reactions. When her gaze met John's, he quirked a brow at her.

A party?

She was throwing them some sort of a surprise party?

That's what this had been all about?!

He stepped further into the tree house. "Whose anniversary, Marguerite?" he asked curiously, knowing the others were following his example, stepping further in as well, each of them watching their temporary hostess with astonished expectancy.

She swallowed hard. This was it. Now she was going to discover whether she was going to get the prize she was longing for. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, then met each of their eyes. "Ours."

The others exchanged startled looks.

"I mean, this is our third year anniversary of arriving at this tree house and starting to become a family," Marguerite said softly, nervously, her eyes wide with an unconsciously unspoken plea for their understanding and acceptance. She repeated more firmly, "This is our third year anniversary as a family together in our home. I wanted to do something to show you all how very special you are to me, and how much I love you all, and how glad I am that you're my family."

Veronica's eyes filled with tears.

George had to clear his throat suddenly, blinking rapidly.

John began to smile, his eyes darkening with love and pride in her.

But it was Finn who spoke first. With one more swift look at the table to confirm that there was a gift there for her, too, she took an uncertain step forward. "You're including me?" she whispered incredulously. "Me?"

Marguerite met the vulnerable blue eyes and smiled at her, completely understanding her doubt. "Of course," she replied without hesitation. "You annoy me just as much as everyone else in this family does," she added flippantly without missing a beat.

The simple answer, and Marguerite's subsequent familiar teasing, erased all the doubt in Finn's heart and mind. With a sob of joy, the girl from the future dashed forward and threw her arms about Marguerite, hugging the startled brunette and bursting into happy tears on her shoulder.

Marguerite shot a half-panicked look of appeal at John as she awkwardly patted the younger girl's back, which made her beau's grin widen.

Veronica gave a watery chuckle and stepped forward to wrap her arms around both Finn and Marguerite. "Thank you, Marguerite," she said huskily as she affectionately leaned her cheek against Fin's hair and met Marguerite's shimmering green eyes over Finn's head. "This is a wonderful surprise!" She turned her glowing face toward the two men and prompted, "Isn't it, boys?"

"Oh, it certainly is, it certainly is!" George agreed hurriedly, clearing his throat one more time, then joining the women and putting his own long arms around all three of them, giving them a long, forceful squeeze. "Happy anniversary!" he grinned as the women squealed at the tightness of his grip.

Breathlessly, Marguerite gasped, "Okay, George, that's enough now."

He backed off with a laugh, and the women broke their embrace a little sheepishly, laughing as well. Challenger, Veronica and Finn turned to marvel again at the wondrous decorations and the feast on the table, exclaiming to one another as they noticed and pointed out each new discovery with delight. Marguerite had thought of amazing details! She'd set neatly lettered little name cards on the table, and had cut paper heart chains to wrap around the support posts. Even Veronica's many flower pots were decorated with blue-hued paper hearts and confetti. It was easy to see that she must have pre-prepared much of it, and hidden it away till today.

Marguerite couldn't help the ear-to-ear smile that lit her face as she absorbed their approval of all the little special things she'd worked so hard to plan and provide. But her eyes returned to John again and again. He hadn't said anything yet. And his was the most important opinion.

He'd wandered around the great room without comment, stopping at last beside the table to examine the cake with interest. "Did you make this?" he asked, looking up at her with twinkling eyes. "It looks so good!"

She grinned impishly. "Don't worry, John," she said lightly. "It's edible."

The others laughed and moved to join the tall hunter at the table. "Look at all this!" Challenger enthused. "Everything looks so marvelous, Marguerite!"

"I can't believe you did all this without anyone finding out, Em." Finn said incredulously, automatically shortening her new sister's name to an initial just as she'd done with Veronica's name.

Marguerite, secure now that she knew she had their coveted universal approval, frowned down at the shorter girl. "It wasn't all that hard, Eff," she drawled, deliberately emphasizing the abbreviation of Finn's name. "I've had a lot of practice at secrets, Eff."

Finn grimaced and nodded. "Got it. No Em," she acknowledged with a grin.

"Good girl." Marguerite smiled at her with affection.

They took their seats as George opened the wine.

Lunch was a drawn out meal, full of laughter and trading of stories as they compared notes about the past few weeks from their different perspectives. Marguerite was delighted with their admiration for her machinations, which they were glad to elaborate on, seeing how she was eating up their praises. She'd put an incredible amount of work into the decorations and the food, not to mention her very effective "rabbit trail" of little notes that had taken them away from the tree house long enough for her to clean, bake the cake, put up the decorations and set out the food.

Finn kept eyeing the wrapped package in front of her plate, then looking at Marguerite for a cue to open the gift. But their acting hostess made her wait until after they'd enjoyed the cake. They were all pleasantly surprised to find that the honey-flavored cake was indeed edible. John, Challenger and Finn each managed two huge slices of the delicious cake before Marguerite finally took pity on Finn's still-hopeful pleading looks and nodded. "Go ahead. Open yours first, Finn."

Finn grabbed the package and turned it over and over to try to find the way to open it. She finally realized it was sewn shut, and found the seam. She took an excited breath, glanced up at Marguerite, and admitted huskily, blue eyes full of loving gratitude, "This is the first gift anyone's given me in almost nine years!"

Marguerite's smile faltered, and she reached for John's hand under the table. He squeezed it comfortingly as they watched Finn work at separating the threads. Challenger and Veronica glanced at Marguerite, too, remembering well the dark-haired woman's reaction when she'd received her first gifts from the others during a Christmas celebration only a few months into that very first year they were stranded together.

They hadn't suspected how little experience Marguerite might've had with sharing holidays, birthdays, or gifts during her childhood, until they'd seen the wide-eyed amazement and gratified tears that she'd tried ineffectively to hide from them. She hadn't known how to react. The truth had tumbled out in the emotion of the moment, and it had made each of them glad they'd given her something despite believing it wouldn't be appreciated by the aloof, sarcastic woman who so rarely showed them her softer side.

Marguerite had appreciated each gift more than any of them could possibly have anticipated, and had obviously valued the presents even though not one of them included jewels.

They'd shrugged off her halting apology that day for not having given any of them anything. She really hadn't expected to receive anything, and the fact that every single one of them had managed to find something to give her had totally stunned her. Her housemates hadn't dared comment on the revelation that she'd never experienced a holiday like this before; she'd been far too fragile . . . and far too defensive once she recovered her composure and realized what she'd unguardedly revealed to them. Caught off guard themselves, they'd instinctively followed John's lead and treated her as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening as they continued the celebration. Tactfully, not one of them had ever brought it up again, but they'd never forgotten it.

She still had those first gifts, set in places of honor among her cherished valuables. Since that first Christmas, giving gifts had been very special to Marguerite, never lightly done, and they each knew how much care had probably gone into these gifts she was offering so casually now. They watched to see what she'd found for their newest family member.

Finn reached into the cloth and eased out a strip of folded cured leather. Her brow creased. What was this? She unfolded it slowly, and then her face lit up. "It's a new belt! Wow! Look at this, guys!" she held it out in awe as she saw the gems carefully sewn onto the belt.

Diamonds. Marguerite had cut, polished, and set diamonds in star patterns on the belt. And it even had a hook for her cross bow! She tore her eyes from it to stare at Marguerite speechlessly.

Marguerite summoned a smile, misty-eyed again as she saw that Finn liked and appreciated it. "I noticed that your old belt is wearing out," she explained quietly.

"It's perfect, Marguerite," Finn whispered, rising to go around the table to Marguerite.

Marguerite accepted her hug, and gave one in return, green eyes shining at Finn's pleasure.

Finn slipped off her old belt as she returned to her place, and replaced it with her new belt. "Perfect fit! How'd you do that?" she asked, her usual curiosity returning.

"I used the old one as a pattern one day while you were bathing. It's the only time you don't wear it," she added wryly.

The others laughed. Then Challenger suggested, "We started with the youngest; that makes you next, Veronica."

Veronica grinned. "No arguments from me!"

Since she had prior experience with the way Marguerite "wrapped" the gifts she gave, she had an easier time than Finn in getting hers open. It was a rather small gift bag, much smaller than anyone else's but Marguerite's, but when Veronica drew forth her gift she was just as delighted as Finn had been. She held up a pair of delicate gold hoop earrings that had tiny rubies dangling from them, and another pair shaped like perfect little Patience flowers. "Oh, you finally figured out how to make the jewelry molds!" she exclaimed as she admired the two pair of earrings.

Marguerite had been trying to cast her own jewelry molds ever since she'd broken her favorite earrings half a year after being stranded on the plateau. Veronica had admired her earrings from the first day she'd seen them, marveling because the workmanship was so much more delicate than anything she'd ever seen on the plateau except her mother's own jewelry, which hadn't included earrings.

The others had been amazed at Marguerite's patience as she worked at creating the fine molds necessary to cast the delicate hoops or earring fasteners. The tiniest scratch or fault in the mold ruined the jewelry. Hours of work would prove fruitless, and the brunette would set it aside for a few weeks, or longer, thinking about it before she tried again. Even with the modifications John or George had made at her request, the tools available on the plateau had proven to be too rough for success – at least, so they'd thought.

"They're beautiful, Marguerite," Veronica beamed, and peered at Marguerite's ears, which were unadorned. "Did you make some for yourself, too?"

Marguerite shook her head. "Next time," she shrugged carelessly, as if it were an easy thing to do again instead of something she might never be able to repeat.

Veronica was gratified. She knew how much Marguerite missed her finery. Wanting new settings for several of her earrings that had been damaged or lost was the initial reason she'd begun trying to recreate the delicate workmanship. Yet the first pieces she made were for Veronica, not for herself.

She followed Finn's example and circled the table to place a warm kiss on the brunette's pink cheek and whisper, "I love them!" in her ear. She paused on the way back to her chair to show them to each of the men, and to Finn.

"Incredible," Challenger murmured as he took in the tiny details she'd managed on the flower earrings. "This must have taken hours… perhaps as long as picking berries would have taken?" he teased with a quirked brow, making Marguerite grin unrepentantly. "I believe you're next, my dear," he added.

"Yeah! What did you get for yourself?" Finn wondered.

Marguerite's grin softened. "It's not really something new, but it's improved," she said, cheeks flushing again as she reached for her package. It was about the same size as Veronica's, but they already knew it wasn't earrings. Her long, slender fingers deftly undid the seam of her package, and she upended it into her palm.

It was her locket, the one her parents had left with her.

Even Finn knew about Marguerite's locket. How could it have been improved? Her only memento of the parents she'd never known, it was engraved inside with a message from them that had been all she had to cling to for most of her life. She cupped it in her palm and slowly opened the heart-shaped cover. The engraving was still visible. But on the inside of the cover she'd placed a carefully-sized photograph. None of them had to be any closer to know who it was of; the hat made its owner easily recognizable. It was a photograph Arthur Summerlee had taken soon after their arrival here. And curled over the engraved words was a tiny lock of hair, a very familiar shade of brown.

Finn made a face. "That's improved?" she chided in disappointment. "Ouch! What was that for!" she glared back and forth between Veronica and George, who'd each kicked her under the table. Neither one bothered to answer her.

Roxton reached out and took the locket from her, touched at being represented there along with her parents. He closed it, rose to his feet, moved behind her and tenderly fastened it around her neck. "There. Right where it should be," he said softly. He let his hand linger on her shoulder a moment longer than necessary, and she leaned her cheek against it.

Finn rolled her eyes, but a warning look from Veronica made her keep silent. The girl from the future had no patience with the slow pace of the romance progressing between the dark-haired couple, not understanding why they worried about the things still to be worked out. Finn liked things simple, the way it had been in her own time. No one worried about the past, there, or what might happen in the days to come. When the world was falling apart around you, it was only today that mattered. If you wanted to be together, you were together. It was simple. Living on this crazy past plateau, with the constant changes and dangers, Finn thought her new friends should do the same.

But then, she was still getting to know and understand the ways of these people who were her new family, and Marguerite was the one who was officially acknowledging her as a member of this family. Finn had decided early that the brunette wasn't a person it would be easy to get to know. Maybe, after all, she might be beginning to catch a glimmer of why Lord John Roxton was still patiently courting Marguerite.

Finn swallowed back a sudden lump in her throat as she watched the way the tall hunter caressed the lovely brunette's cheek, and saw Marguerite's often-cynical eyes soften with wonder as she looked up into his loving brown eyes.

Her money was on Roxton, she decided.

John looked over at Challenger and grinned, "Age before beauty, George?" he invited cheerfully, giving Marguerite one more caress before resuming his seat beside her. "Although, technically, it's Ned's turn."

They all looked at the thin rectangular package sitting at Ned's ready place. Veronica smiled. "You made him a new journal, didn't you," she asked softly, her blue eyes full of gratitude as they met the green eyes of the heiress.

Marguerite nodded, but said ruefully, "I'm not sure how well it will hold ink in the long term. How was the ink on the scrolls? Could you read it clearly?" She looked to George for her answer, her gaze sharpening.

George nodded, his own blue eyes brightening with interest. "Actually, yes, it stayed very clear! What were you using?"

John intervened quickly. "Oh, no you don't!" he laughed. "You two can discuss inks and papers and their finer qualities later. No scientific conversations at this party! I'll open mine next, if you're not ready for yours George."

Challenger subsided sheepishly, grinning at the rebuke. "Well, she's such a good researcher! And there's -"

"So much to learn, so little time!" the rest of them chorused in unison, laughing as they finished one of his favorite sayings.

"Just so," he nodded, unabashed, though he did flush at their teasing. "Go ahead, John. Open your gift."

His was another larger package, bulkier than Finn's had been. Knowing from past experience that his fingers were too large to easily deal with the tiny, even stitches that Marguerite was so good at, he used his hunting knife to cut the material open, exposing his gift all at once as it lay on the table.

It was a hand-tooled bandoleer, the holsters decorated with black onyx stones along the edges of the perfectly cured light-colored leather. He noticed that she'd added a fine layer of softer leather on the underside of the straps that would fit his shoulders and across his back, to cushion where his other harness had been rubbing. And there was a little fringe dangling off the lowest end of each holster, the way he'd described the cowboy-style western gun belt he'd seen and admired while in one of the plateau's other planes of reality.

Marguerite watched him anxiously as he ran his hands over the straps and holsters, testing their strength and form with expert tugs and a keen eye. Lord John Roxton was very particular about his weapons and their associated gear.

Veronica held her breath as she, too, watched him, her blue eyes moving from the hunter to his beloved, beginning to be concerned as John delayed speaking. Finn tensed, too. Surely he couldn't be seriously looking for a flaw? It would hurt Marguerite so badly if he disapproved -

George, though, understood what John was doing. He wanted Marguerite to know that he wasn't just saying he liked it because it was from her, but because it was a beautiful and well-made article that he would be able to treasure.

Besides, Roxton wouldn't keep his Marguerite waiting a moment longer than necessary. He'd risen now, and was trying it on, testing the fit over his broad shoulders, seeing how it felt with the additional features she'd designed. They all waited expectantly as he twisted his shoulders and torso, grunting in approval as he found that it didn't hinder his movement at all. Content, he looked up with beaming face and pronounced, "It's absolutely perfect, Marguerite! I love it."

Veronica, Finn, and Marguerite all unconsciously let out sighs of relief and relaxed, making Challenger chuckle. As if there'd been any doubt!

Marguerite accepted his embrace with shining eyes and a smile of adoration, gratified that he'd shown appreciation for everything she'd worked so hard to consider when assembling the bandoleer and decorating the holsters for him.

Then they all turned to George. "Your turn, Challenger," Finn urged.

He nodded. "Saved the best for last, I dare say," he said sagely, prompting Finn and Veronica to hoot with teasing derision as he used his pocket knife to loosen the seam on the "wrapping paper" of his gift, which was smaller than Malone's notebook and Finn's folded belt, but larger than the women's jewelry pouches.

John discreetly slid his arm around Marguerite's shoulders while the others were watching George open the cloth covering, drawing a knowing grin from her. But she didn't push him away, resting back against his arm instead.

George tipped out something gold, almost flat, onto the table, and frowned as he leaned down to examine the circular disk, turning it over curiously. Then he made a startled exclamation and picked it up, holding it up and tilting it back and forth to examine it.

The others leaned forward, puzzled. "What is it, Challenger?" Veronica asked.

He was admiring it closely, intrigued. "I've never seen anything like it!" He looked up at Marguerite, totally mystified. "How in the world did you do this?!"

The beauty smiled smugly. "Jeweler's secret, George," she replied mildly.

"What is it?" Finn asked, craning her neck to try to get a look.

George bent his head closer, staring at it intently. "I'd swear it was part of the stone!" he vowed incredulously. "But it can't be!"

"George!" John said sharply, earning the scientist's attention. "What is it?"

"Oh, I beg your pardon! An anomaly, I'm sure! Look at this!" He thrust the gold disk forward, and they saw that it was the top cover to a pocket watch, complete with an inlaid ruby. Challenger's watch cover been badly dinged by an arrowhead a couple months back – and arrow that would've caused a fatal wound if it hadn't struck his pocket watch – and he'd found it unusable, the puncture preventing the silver from latching. He'd bemoaned the loss, since without the protective cover he couldn't risk wearing the pocket watch outside the tree house, and he had too many other more important projects to waste time making a new one. So Marguerite had fashioned a replacement for him.

The making of the cover wasn't remarkable in and of itself. The thing that had him stymied was the ruby stone that took the place of the usual etching on a pocket watch's cover piece. The others stared at it, then at Marguerite, as intrigued as the scientist.

The beautifully cut and polished gemstone had the image of a dinosaur imbedded in its deep red glow. Marguerite smiled at their questioning looks, and would only repeat, "Jeweler's secret." Then she added to George, "It won't be hard to attach to your pocket watch, and then you'll be able to wear it outside the tree house again."

He nodded happily, holding it carefully in his palm as he rose from the table, barely looking up. "I really must examine this under the microscope," he murmured to himself, determined to discover how the image had been created, and already lost in possible theories.

Veronica gave Marguerite an admiring look. "What a terrific gift! He'll have a wonderful time trying to figure out how you did that, Marguerite! It's the perfect gift for George!"

Marguerite laughed, delighted that he'd reacted exactly as she'd hoped when she conceived the idea for the gift. She snuggled closer to John's side, and gave a little sigh. "The only way this day could get any better is if Ned comes home right now."

Veronica nodded, rising from her place to pick up Ned's gift. "I'll put this in Ned's room for him, and then Finn and I will clean up. It's a beautiful afternoon. Why don't you two go enjoy the breeze on the balcony," she suggested slyly.

John grinned. "Sounds good to me." He stood, and drew Marguerite to her feet as well. "Come on, my dear, while the getting is good!"

Marguerite accepted his escort out towards the balcony corner they liked best.

Finn arched her brows at being volunteered without consultation, but raised no objection. She was willing to work at cleaning up with Veronica. Maybe she could talk Vee into a little gymnastics competition up in the rafters while they were taking down the pretty paper streamers.

---

The air was cooling as the sun passed its zenith and made its way toward the western horizon. Marguerite was cuddled close to John on the balcony bench, his arms securely around her as they passed the time listening to the familiar noises of the plateau. The air was sweet with the scent of the jungle flowers that grew entwined with the balcony rails, and they could have been the only two people on earth.

Behind them in the tree house, quiet reigned. Veronica and Finn had finally finished their crazy antics in the rafters, and had settled down to a more conventional board game on the floor in front of the fireplace. Challenger hadn't come back upstairs, still down in his lab, happily engrossed in trying to pry the secret of the dinosaur from the ruby.

John had told her again how much he liked the bandoleer, and asked her for all the details about how she'd managed to do it all. Marguerite was glad to tell him everything, liking the experience of having someone to share her triumph with. Amazing, this thing called love, and the surprising number of good feelings that came along with it.

John played with a handful of silky curls as he admitted that she'd really had him worried, earlier. "I was so sure you were going after some utterly fascinating, potentially dangerous treasure!" he said ruefully.

"But I was," she startled him by saying. She felt him tense, and turned her face up to his, giving him a tentative smile. "I was going after the most incredible riches I've ever tried to find in my life, John. And it was dangerous. Finding that I'd failed would have broken my heart."

She went on carefully, wanting him to understand what this day had meant to her, "You see, I had this theory that if I could give you all something, something unasked for, unlooked for, then I would be giving back to all of you just a shadow of what you've given me… and that's what families do, isn't it? Give to each other?"

"Ah. So these incredible riches you were after…?"

"A family, John. I knew it was here, like gemstones waiting to be mined. I just had to lay claim to it, make it my own," she explained.

So she'd given them gifts to show her love, and claimed them as her family. When they'd accepted her gifts and shown their loving responses, the others had affirmed that she belonged in their tight-knit family unit. Her treasure, then, was finding the assurance that she belonged!

He relaxed, seeing the truth of what she was saying in the new peace that he found in her gray-green eyes. Marguerite had searched for and found her family.

John shook his head, bemused. "You know, Parsifal," he teased with a lazy drawl, "You could've just asked me, and I would've told you that you were part of this family. You really didn't have to spend weeks and weeks planning all this, hiding all your preparations, and driving the rest of us nuts trying to figure out what you were doing."

"Yes I did," she disagreed.

"Why?"

"Because it was the only way to find out for sure," she explained patiently.

He looked at her blankly.

Marguerite sighed. "Come on, John. You know that only family would love me enough to accept what I've been putting you all through," she elaborated. "I had to do it this way to be sure."

He blinked at her reasoning, then grinned slowly. "You may be right about that."

"I know I am. Besides," she added, "It was so much fun!" Her eyes lit with laughter. "Veronica was such a riot, trying to be patient with me when I didn't bring home the berries! And you should have seen yourself! You looked like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar that day I asked you to come plant hunting with me and you had to pretend that you couldn't come with me!" she teased. "I had you all in the palm of my hand, right from the start! You didn't stand a chance!"

Her self-satisfaction was annoying, but he couldn't scold her now that he understood. Besides, it was too easy to see the humorous side of it, too. In fact, it opened the door to a bit of retaliation. After all, two could play at this game. Why should she have all the fun? He could easily turn the tables on her. "Marguerite, you do realize I'm going to have to get even with you, don't you?" he quirked a brow at her, grinning mischievously.

"Catch me if you can," she jeered, laughing up into his dancing brown eyes.

"Oh, I will, my dear, I will," he vowed cheerfully. "Better watch out! You'll never know when I might catch you off guard! Why, you might find salt in your sugar, or dirt in your coffee. Or I might short-sheet your bed. Or loosen the seams of your pants so that when you bend over…" he made a sound like tearing cloth. "Or then again, I might just," he leaned his head close to hers, and whispered in her ear.

Marguerite listened with widening eyes and a growing smile, and chuckled.

Then he dipped his head a little lower and claimed her lips in a long, sweet kiss.

Ooh! This was far better than the mere treasure of a family to belong to! She was going to have to expand her definition of treasure yet again, she decided. Marguerite melted into his arms, making a mental note to herself to start thinking about her next plot the moment she could think straight again.

***************