"The Grand Illusion" Five
p
(Disclaimer: Characters from The Lost World belong respectively to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Telescene, et al. This is for entertainment purposes only. Any original characters belong to the author and cannot be used without permission.)p
The moon shone high over the grounds of Lord John Roxton's manorhouse, casting an errie glow over everything in sight. Marguerite looked out the bay windows pensively, her nightgown and robe making her look like some pale spirit of yesteryear.
To Roxton she looked like an angel..
Of course Roxton had also learned that appearances COULD be deceiving.
He decided to chance it.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
Marguerite turned, looking quite startled but she regained her composure quickly.
"Actually, I sleep upright.." she quipped.
"Very funny." Roxton grinned and walked over towards her, properly attired in his robe.
"Sooo.." Marguerite looked up at him. "Late night snack?"
"Perhaps. Care to join me?"
"Hm, why not?" Marguerite shrugged and followed him to the kitchen area.
*****
" - and so they looked everywhere for me, but I was hiding in the pantry and when I was found, I was covered from head to toe in flour! Nearly gave Olive a heart attack!"
Marguerite laughed at Roxton's story even as she reached for another piece of chicken.
"Eating for - two?" Roxton raised a brow.
"Ha, ha.." Marguerite gave him a look. "I doubt it unless there would be TWO cases of immaculate conception."
Roxton smirked.
"Don't you wish.." Marguerite delicately took a bite of her chicken.
"You know, for a woman who can kill a charging raptor at 50 paces, you certainly eat daintily."
Marguerite rolled her eyes and said, "I suppose you expected Henry the Eighth?"
"Well you've already HAD at least two more pieces than - "
"Oh be quiet.." Marguerite finished her piece off and then wiped her mouth and fingertips. Grimacing, she went to the sink to wash her hands and when she went to reach for a towel, Roxton was there.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it." Roxton said lowly, sending a almost unwanted thrill through Marguerite.
"I won't if you won't." she looked up into his eyes.
Roxton looked down into her eyes, drawn into it's depths. Yes she had depths within her that she never knew she posessed until she went to the plateau. He had once believed that she was nothing more than what she had appeared to be - a rich, spoiled heiress. He had found that she was cruel, selfish, given to anger and aggressiveness as if she had always had to fight for everything when all she had to do was ask.
And yet there was something about her that captured him - more than her looks or her bravery or even her zest for living that he himself posessed. He couldn't define it, but he could almost see it in her eyes in her unguarded moments.
This was one of them. She looked like a lost child searching for something - maybe for home perhaps. He too felt that way at times, especially when he thought of his brother, how he had -
Roxton shivered and he felt the touch of Marguerite's hand on his shoulder.
He looked at her surprised.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
Odd how she never would have cared before the plateau.
"I'm fine.." Roxton tried to brush his thought aside.
"Are you sure?"
Without a word, he leaned over and kissed her. It was a kiss of longing, desire, and perhaps of something else too. Marguerite kissed back, as if she knew what he needed.
But wasn't that her way? To be whatever was required to get what she wanted?
Roxton drew back, his breath ragged. He looked at her flushed face, her dark hair wild about her face.
"Why?" Roxton asked.
"You started it." Suddenly she was on the defensive.
"You want something.." Roxton drew back a little.
"No, I don't. Look you're the one who - "
"What do you want, Marguerite?" His hand reached out to brush back a tendril of dark hair.
"Look, it's late and we have to get ready for that ball and - "
Marguerite stopped as Roxton's hand grasped her chin gently.
"What - do - you want?" He asked again.
Marguerite looked into those eyes and was lost in them. It was true what they said that the eyes were the window of the soul. It was why she had become so adept in hiding her own. She had always thought that there was no such thing as a soul, but after what they had been through, she knew that her thinking had been changed.
"Roxton..John.." She seemed to have no control over her hand, for it weaved into his dark hair.
"What?" Somehow he had drifted so periously close to her mouth again, tempted to kiss it.
"You." she whispered.
"What?" He knew what she was referring to but something perverse in him wanted her to say it.
"I want you." And suddenly she blushed, Marguerite Krux, woman of the world who had had other lovers before without a thought except her own needs. She had never conformed to the leftover remants of Victorian moral or thinking but instead had forged her own way.
And she was blushing like some demure innocent!
Now with lips just a breath away, Marguerite wanted to say something else, something that seemed to bubble up in the surface. Yes she wanted Roxton, but it was more than that it was -
Madness. He was mad, he just knew. He told himself all the things that she was and would be. She was no angel but neither was he. They both made worlds out of ashes and they had made their own paths.
No! Foolish sentiment! He was what he was and she was - she was -
He could feel her trembling and he was surprised to see that he was trembling too.
"John.." she whispered.
Now, say it now before you go mad...
As it was, they said it together..
"I - love - "
"Oh my.."
They broke apart as if they had both touched fire and turned to see who had intruded upon them.
Summerlee. Their voice of reason.
"I seem to have stumbled upon a private moment." This he said awkwardly. Times had changed, but he knew a moment when he saw one.
"Nonsense." Marguerite backed away from Roxton and secured her robe. "We were just having a discussion."
"I see." Summerlee surpressed a smile. "Anna and I used to have such - discussions."
Roxton turned a slightly darker shade under his tan.
"Well, you two can stay up, but I think I can sleep now." Marguerite gave Roxton a look.
The moment was definitely gone and Roxton sighed a little.
"Good night, Marguerite." Summerlee said.
"Good night. " Marguerite smiled slightly and left the room.
Summerlee said, "I hope I am not keeping you up, John. I can make my way around a kitchen.."
Roxton ran a hand through his hair.
"No, you're not, Professor. In fact, I'll keep you company for awhile. I think I'm just used to being a night owl. All those late night shifts guarding on the plateau."
"Ah, yes." Summerlee took out some bottled milk that was in the ice box. "I remember those well. Odd that we want to go back isn't it?"
"Perhaps not." Roxton said. "Maybe we belonged there."
"You might be right." Summerlee sat down and set the milk on the table.
The two men sat there for awhile longer and then later each went off to seek his own slumber..
p
(Disclaimer: Characters from The Lost World belong respectively to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Telescene, et al. This is for entertainment purposes only. Any original characters belong to the author and cannot be used without permission.)p
The moon shone high over the grounds of Lord John Roxton's manorhouse, casting an errie glow over everything in sight. Marguerite looked out the bay windows pensively, her nightgown and robe making her look like some pale spirit of yesteryear.
To Roxton she looked like an angel..
Of course Roxton had also learned that appearances COULD be deceiving.
He decided to chance it.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
Marguerite turned, looking quite startled but she regained her composure quickly.
"Actually, I sleep upright.." she quipped.
"Very funny." Roxton grinned and walked over towards her, properly attired in his robe.
"Sooo.." Marguerite looked up at him. "Late night snack?"
"Perhaps. Care to join me?"
"Hm, why not?" Marguerite shrugged and followed him to the kitchen area.
*****
" - and so they looked everywhere for me, but I was hiding in the pantry and when I was found, I was covered from head to toe in flour! Nearly gave Olive a heart attack!"
Marguerite laughed at Roxton's story even as she reached for another piece of chicken.
"Eating for - two?" Roxton raised a brow.
"Ha, ha.." Marguerite gave him a look. "I doubt it unless there would be TWO cases of immaculate conception."
Roxton smirked.
"Don't you wish.." Marguerite delicately took a bite of her chicken.
"You know, for a woman who can kill a charging raptor at 50 paces, you certainly eat daintily."
Marguerite rolled her eyes and said, "I suppose you expected Henry the Eighth?"
"Well you've already HAD at least two more pieces than - "
"Oh be quiet.." Marguerite finished her piece off and then wiped her mouth and fingertips. Grimacing, she went to the sink to wash her hands and when she went to reach for a towel, Roxton was there.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it." Roxton said lowly, sending a almost unwanted thrill through Marguerite.
"I won't if you won't." she looked up into his eyes.
Roxton looked down into her eyes, drawn into it's depths. Yes she had depths within her that she never knew she posessed until she went to the plateau. He had once believed that she was nothing more than what she had appeared to be - a rich, spoiled heiress. He had found that she was cruel, selfish, given to anger and aggressiveness as if she had always had to fight for everything when all she had to do was ask.
And yet there was something about her that captured him - more than her looks or her bravery or even her zest for living that he himself posessed. He couldn't define it, but he could almost see it in her eyes in her unguarded moments.
This was one of them. She looked like a lost child searching for something - maybe for home perhaps. He too felt that way at times, especially when he thought of his brother, how he had -
Roxton shivered and he felt the touch of Marguerite's hand on his shoulder.
He looked at her surprised.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
Odd how she never would have cared before the plateau.
"I'm fine.." Roxton tried to brush his thought aside.
"Are you sure?"
Without a word, he leaned over and kissed her. It was a kiss of longing, desire, and perhaps of something else too. Marguerite kissed back, as if she knew what he needed.
But wasn't that her way? To be whatever was required to get what she wanted?
Roxton drew back, his breath ragged. He looked at her flushed face, her dark hair wild about her face.
"Why?" Roxton asked.
"You started it." Suddenly she was on the defensive.
"You want something.." Roxton drew back a little.
"No, I don't. Look you're the one who - "
"What do you want, Marguerite?" His hand reached out to brush back a tendril of dark hair.
"Look, it's late and we have to get ready for that ball and - "
Marguerite stopped as Roxton's hand grasped her chin gently.
"What - do - you want?" He asked again.
Marguerite looked into those eyes and was lost in them. It was true what they said that the eyes were the window of the soul. It was why she had become so adept in hiding her own. She had always thought that there was no such thing as a soul, but after what they had been through, she knew that her thinking had been changed.
"Roxton..John.." She seemed to have no control over her hand, for it weaved into his dark hair.
"What?" Somehow he had drifted so periously close to her mouth again, tempted to kiss it.
"You." she whispered.
"What?" He knew what she was referring to but something perverse in him wanted her to say it.
"I want you." And suddenly she blushed, Marguerite Krux, woman of the world who had had other lovers before without a thought except her own needs. She had never conformed to the leftover remants of Victorian moral or thinking but instead had forged her own way.
And she was blushing like some demure innocent!
Now with lips just a breath away, Marguerite wanted to say something else, something that seemed to bubble up in the surface. Yes she wanted Roxton, but it was more than that it was -
Madness. He was mad, he just knew. He told himself all the things that she was and would be. She was no angel but neither was he. They both made worlds out of ashes and they had made their own paths.
No! Foolish sentiment! He was what he was and she was - she was -
He could feel her trembling and he was surprised to see that he was trembling too.
"John.." she whispered.
Now, say it now before you go mad...
As it was, they said it together..
"I - love - "
"Oh my.."
They broke apart as if they had both touched fire and turned to see who had intruded upon them.
Summerlee. Their voice of reason.
"I seem to have stumbled upon a private moment." This he said awkwardly. Times had changed, but he knew a moment when he saw one.
"Nonsense." Marguerite backed away from Roxton and secured her robe. "We were just having a discussion."
"I see." Summerlee surpressed a smile. "Anna and I used to have such - discussions."
Roxton turned a slightly darker shade under his tan.
"Well, you two can stay up, but I think I can sleep now." Marguerite gave Roxton a look.
The moment was definitely gone and Roxton sighed a little.
"Good night, Marguerite." Summerlee said.
"Good night. " Marguerite smiled slightly and left the room.
Summerlee said, "I hope I am not keeping you up, John. I can make my way around a kitchen.."
Roxton ran a hand through his hair.
"No, you're not, Professor. In fact, I'll keep you company for awhile. I think I'm just used to being a night owl. All those late night shifts guarding on the plateau."
"Ah, yes." Summerlee took out some bottled milk that was in the ice box. "I remember those well. Odd that we want to go back isn't it?"
"Perhaps not." Roxton said. "Maybe we belonged there."
"You might be right." Summerlee sat down and set the milk on the table.
The two men sat there for awhile longer and then later each went off to seek his own slumber..
