Why do I let Challenger talk me into these things?
As Lord Roxton pulled off his hat to fan his face, he exhaled deeply and wondered once again how he had been persuaded to find more of the Tnomre plant for Challenger's newest experiment. He looked up at the blazing sun and closed his eyes briefly and just enjoyed the soft breeze as it teased the ends of his hair.
With any luck I'll be home by sunset, he thought as he forced his body to move forward once again. He wished that he had some company on this journey. Malone and Veronica were visiting friends in a nearby village and weren't expected back until tonight. He sighed and thought of the cool shade surrounding the treehouse and the tempting heiress who had scoffed at the idea of going for a hike on such a hot day! As much as he hated to admit it, she had a good point . . . it was too damn hot!
Just then he saw the distinctive Ydan trees that was home to the parasitic Tnomre plant. The silvery blue flower that was characteristic of the plant reminded him of Marguerite's eyes. He smiled to himself . . . he certainly was becoming fanciful in his old age.
Over the next few minutes, he gathered up as much of the flowers as he could reach without climbing up the scratchy truck of the tree.
That should be enough, he thought and he started to turn around to return home. He paused a moment, thinking he saw something out of the corner of his eye. After several seconds without any further motion, he assumed he imagined it. Ever the hunter, he began picking up his pace and he checked his rifle to make sure it was ready in case something was there.
A twig snapping behind him was the only warning before a blinding flash of light exploded across his eyes and then blessed darkness enveloped him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three years later
Roxton eyes flew open and he looked up at the Ydan tree gently shading him from the heat of the day. He looked around and slowly started remembering what had happened. From the position of the sun, he couldn't have been out for more than a few hours. It was amazing the scavengers had left his unconscious body alone.
Slowly laboring to his feet, he mentally checked all the little aches and pains that always accompanied being knocked senseless, which happened with annoying regularity on this God forsaken plateau.
Dusting himself off, he picked up his rifle and started the hike back. He was going to be late and no doubt they would all be worried about him. An amused smile spread across his face as he thought of how Marguerite was probably sitting there on the balcony waiting for his arrival and how she would hide her concern as soon as she saw he was fine. He wondered what snide remark she would welcome him with as he headed off in the direction of the treehouse.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tears slowly rolled down Marguerite's face and she sighed as she made her way down to the pond. It was hard to believe that 3 years ago today, her Roxton had disappeared without a trace. Her heart shattered all over again as she reflected once more on the worst period of her life. When John hadn't returned by the next night, they combed the plateau in a vain attempt to find him. Minutes had drifted by like hours and her silent dread mounted with every passing mile.
If only I had gone with him, she thought for perhaps the millionth time since that awful day so long ago. She had hoped against hope that he had just gotten tired and decided to camp overnight instead of exhausting himself trying to make it back by nightfall.
Hope . . . what a painful cruel emotion, she told herself. Since they never found his body, she had held on to her pathetic hopes for months. Dreaming of him strolling up in the early morning fog kept her from completely withdrawing from the world around her. Memories of his crooked grin and the twinkle that sparkled in his eyes when he had bested her in one of their many arguments haunted her still to this day. Especially today . . .
All her friends had tried to comfort her as best they could but their own grief was too overwhelming. Challenger had been beside himself with guilt. Roxton was like the son he never had and he grieved for the handsome young lord as a father who had lost his child.
Malone aged 10 years in a matter of weeks. He took the responsibility of protecting them solely on his grief-burdened shoulders . . .
A slight smile pulled at the corner of her delicate mouth. Roxton would have been so happy to see how close she had become to Veronica. There was a bond between them now . . . one that only comes with unfulfilled dreams and crushed hopes. They would often sit together and talk about the pain of losing loved ones. It had taken a long time to get over that he wasn't coming back. A long time and some gentle prodding . . .
Marguerite's thoughts immediately turned to Byron. The image of his tall, rugged frame, penetrating blue eyes, and sandy blonde hair flooded her mind. Yes, Byron was the only reason she had remained sane over the years and eventually their friendship had developed into something deeper. His steady support and warm affection carefully pealed away the barriers around her heart she had started rebuilding after Roxton's disappearance.
His appearance 6 months after the incident was a godsend. A savage storm, so frequent on the plateau, had downed his plane a short distance from the treehouse. He was hurt badly in the crash and mending him back to health had been her salvation. If she had sat there very much longer and let her regrets and fears continue to claw away at her, there was no doubt in her mind that she wouldn't be here today. Byron was just the distraction she needed.
His friendly presence had helped all of them and they would all be grateful to him for the rest of their lives. He slowly started to fill the void left when Roxton vanished.
A sob escaped her. No, that wasn't right. No one would ever be able to fill in the empty void left by Roxton . . . but Byron found his own niche in their family and he helped heal their wounds.
But the scars will never go away, a little voice in Marguerite's head whispered. The breeze was cool against the salty tears slowly falling down her cheeks. Arriving at the pond, she found a smooth rock along the water's edge and contemplated the cruel twists of fate as she sat watching the sun set.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was this pretty picture that greeted Roxton's eyes as he entered the small clearing next to the pond. His eyes feasted on her as she sat totally unaware of his closeness.
God, you'd think I hadn't seen her in years, he thought as his heart started pounding uncontrollably. He tried to remind himself that it was her selfishness that had caused him to be passed out for hours this afternoon all alone and at the mercy of whatever animals came across him. But as usual, he couldn't stay angry with her.
After all, if she had been there she might have been hurt also, he said to himself as he sighed and felt the last remaining bit of anger being replaced by the most tender feelings he'd ever felt. How can she manage to do this to me without even trying!
He slowly moved closer so as not to alarm her and vaguely became aware that she was crying. The muffled sound tore at his heart and he quickened his pace so he could get to her sooner and find out what was the matter.
Marguerite began to feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up . . . she was being watched. She slowly turned her options over in her mind. She was alone and unarmed . . . the unbidden memory of Roxton lecturing her on countless occasions about coming to the pond by herself assaulted her memory and she had to fight to maintain control of herself. Angry about not being in complete control of her emotions, she swung around ready to do battle . . . right into Roxton's open arms.
"Good God . . . it's just me, Marguerite," he said while trying to subdue her thrashing arms.
"ROXTON! It's really you! Oh my God! John," she moaned as she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips passionately against his. After several moments, he slowly pulled her away and looked at her with an amused grin . . .
"I know I'm a little late but I had no idea you would be this concerned!" But before he had even finished his statement, she was pressing urgent sweet little kisses all over his face and running her hands through his hair. I'll have to remember to tell Challenger that he could count on me to run all his errands from this point on!
"Marguerite!" a voice called from a little ways off, "Marguerite, darling how many times must I tell you not to wonder down here by yourself . . . you'll make some raptor a very tasty meal if you don't start being careful."
Marguerite jumped out of Roxton's arms at the sound of the deep male voice approaching from the direction of the treehouse. Roxton instantly missed her warm soft body and tried to tighten his arms but it was too late. She was out of his grasp . . . again.
Seeing the look of guilt and confusion on Marguerite's face, he belatedly realized that the voice approaching them was not Malone's or Challenger's. His eyes narrowed as he searched the darkness for the man quickly nearing them and he pointed his rifle in the direction of the footsteps.
"No," Marguerite said softly, stepping in his line of fire. She then turned to walk towards the man just as he reached the clearing. Roxton sucked in his breath at the look of total adoration on the man's face as he stared at Marguerite.
I'm gone one day . . . shaking his head and trying to clear his vision a bit more. But it didn't help . . . he still didn't recognize the man who was so evidently in love with his Marguerite.
Just then Byron peered over Marguerite's shoulder and saw a man pointing a rifle directly at her back! He quickly jumped in front of her intending to shield her body with his own.
Roxton was not amused. Who the hell does this bastard think he is? Marguerite was in no danger from him . . . he loved her even though he never had mentioned it to her. Besides, he was the one who should be protecting her. He felt his body start to tense as if bracing for a horrible blow.
"Who the hell are you?" Roxton asked the undeniably handsome stranger.
"Who are you?" was the infuriating reply.
"I asked first." Roxton said with a dangerous smile that didn't reach his cold eyes.
Byron observed the man for a few seconds. He looked extremely dangerous and yet Marguerite seemed perfectly at ease with the stranger who was still pointing the rifle straight at them. Well, that's not entirely true . . . he felt her body behind him and it was anything but relaxed. But somehow he didn't think she was taut because of fear.
Stepping beside Marguerite, he slipped his arm around her waist and answered, "Very well, I'm Lord Byron O'Connell, Marguerite's fiancé."
At the stranger's announcement, all the color drained from Roxton's face and he felt physically ill. He wanted to run the few steps separating them and remove Marguerite from this man's side. Instead he took a deep breath to keep his savage emotions in check and waited for a hot denial to fall from Marguerite's lips. He looked deeply into her eyes and immediately knew there would be no denial . . . the man was telling the truth.
"Marguerite . . ."
Through Roxton tried to stop the anguish and hurt from seeping into his voice, it was in vain. His feeling were laid out for all to see and a mass of rough emotions choked him before he could force any more words out.
Marguerite looked at him and her heart twisted as his handsome features showed his torment so obviously. She moved from Byron's side to take Roxton's rough hand in hers and gently caressed his face with her haunting eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Roxton."
It was the last thing he heard before he once again slipped into oblivion.
As Lord Roxton pulled off his hat to fan his face, he exhaled deeply and wondered once again how he had been persuaded to find more of the Tnomre plant for Challenger's newest experiment. He looked up at the blazing sun and closed his eyes briefly and just enjoyed the soft breeze as it teased the ends of his hair.
With any luck I'll be home by sunset, he thought as he forced his body to move forward once again. He wished that he had some company on this journey. Malone and Veronica were visiting friends in a nearby village and weren't expected back until tonight. He sighed and thought of the cool shade surrounding the treehouse and the tempting heiress who had scoffed at the idea of going for a hike on such a hot day! As much as he hated to admit it, she had a good point . . . it was too damn hot!
Just then he saw the distinctive Ydan trees that was home to the parasitic Tnomre plant. The silvery blue flower that was characteristic of the plant reminded him of Marguerite's eyes. He smiled to himself . . . he certainly was becoming fanciful in his old age.
Over the next few minutes, he gathered up as much of the flowers as he could reach without climbing up the scratchy truck of the tree.
That should be enough, he thought and he started to turn around to return home. He paused a moment, thinking he saw something out of the corner of his eye. After several seconds without any further motion, he assumed he imagined it. Ever the hunter, he began picking up his pace and he checked his rifle to make sure it was ready in case something was there.
A twig snapping behind him was the only warning before a blinding flash of light exploded across his eyes and then blessed darkness enveloped him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three years later
Roxton eyes flew open and he looked up at the Ydan tree gently shading him from the heat of the day. He looked around and slowly started remembering what had happened. From the position of the sun, he couldn't have been out for more than a few hours. It was amazing the scavengers had left his unconscious body alone.
Slowly laboring to his feet, he mentally checked all the little aches and pains that always accompanied being knocked senseless, which happened with annoying regularity on this God forsaken plateau.
Dusting himself off, he picked up his rifle and started the hike back. He was going to be late and no doubt they would all be worried about him. An amused smile spread across his face as he thought of how Marguerite was probably sitting there on the balcony waiting for his arrival and how she would hide her concern as soon as she saw he was fine. He wondered what snide remark she would welcome him with as he headed off in the direction of the treehouse.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tears slowly rolled down Marguerite's face and she sighed as she made her way down to the pond. It was hard to believe that 3 years ago today, her Roxton had disappeared without a trace. Her heart shattered all over again as she reflected once more on the worst period of her life. When John hadn't returned by the next night, they combed the plateau in a vain attempt to find him. Minutes had drifted by like hours and her silent dread mounted with every passing mile.
If only I had gone with him, she thought for perhaps the millionth time since that awful day so long ago. She had hoped against hope that he had just gotten tired and decided to camp overnight instead of exhausting himself trying to make it back by nightfall.
Hope . . . what a painful cruel emotion, she told herself. Since they never found his body, she had held on to her pathetic hopes for months. Dreaming of him strolling up in the early morning fog kept her from completely withdrawing from the world around her. Memories of his crooked grin and the twinkle that sparkled in his eyes when he had bested her in one of their many arguments haunted her still to this day. Especially today . . .
All her friends had tried to comfort her as best they could but their own grief was too overwhelming. Challenger had been beside himself with guilt. Roxton was like the son he never had and he grieved for the handsome young lord as a father who had lost his child.
Malone aged 10 years in a matter of weeks. He took the responsibility of protecting them solely on his grief-burdened shoulders . . .
A slight smile pulled at the corner of her delicate mouth. Roxton would have been so happy to see how close she had become to Veronica. There was a bond between them now . . . one that only comes with unfulfilled dreams and crushed hopes. They would often sit together and talk about the pain of losing loved ones. It had taken a long time to get over that he wasn't coming back. A long time and some gentle prodding . . .
Marguerite's thoughts immediately turned to Byron. The image of his tall, rugged frame, penetrating blue eyes, and sandy blonde hair flooded her mind. Yes, Byron was the only reason she had remained sane over the years and eventually their friendship had developed into something deeper. His steady support and warm affection carefully pealed away the barriers around her heart she had started rebuilding after Roxton's disappearance.
His appearance 6 months after the incident was a godsend. A savage storm, so frequent on the plateau, had downed his plane a short distance from the treehouse. He was hurt badly in the crash and mending him back to health had been her salvation. If she had sat there very much longer and let her regrets and fears continue to claw away at her, there was no doubt in her mind that she wouldn't be here today. Byron was just the distraction she needed.
His friendly presence had helped all of them and they would all be grateful to him for the rest of their lives. He slowly started to fill the void left when Roxton vanished.
A sob escaped her. No, that wasn't right. No one would ever be able to fill in the empty void left by Roxton . . . but Byron found his own niche in their family and he helped heal their wounds.
But the scars will never go away, a little voice in Marguerite's head whispered. The breeze was cool against the salty tears slowly falling down her cheeks. Arriving at the pond, she found a smooth rock along the water's edge and contemplated the cruel twists of fate as she sat watching the sun set.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was this pretty picture that greeted Roxton's eyes as he entered the small clearing next to the pond. His eyes feasted on her as she sat totally unaware of his closeness.
God, you'd think I hadn't seen her in years, he thought as his heart started pounding uncontrollably. He tried to remind himself that it was her selfishness that had caused him to be passed out for hours this afternoon all alone and at the mercy of whatever animals came across him. But as usual, he couldn't stay angry with her.
After all, if she had been there she might have been hurt also, he said to himself as he sighed and felt the last remaining bit of anger being replaced by the most tender feelings he'd ever felt. How can she manage to do this to me without even trying!
He slowly moved closer so as not to alarm her and vaguely became aware that she was crying. The muffled sound tore at his heart and he quickened his pace so he could get to her sooner and find out what was the matter.
Marguerite began to feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up . . . she was being watched. She slowly turned her options over in her mind. She was alone and unarmed . . . the unbidden memory of Roxton lecturing her on countless occasions about coming to the pond by herself assaulted her memory and she had to fight to maintain control of herself. Angry about not being in complete control of her emotions, she swung around ready to do battle . . . right into Roxton's open arms.
"Good God . . . it's just me, Marguerite," he said while trying to subdue her thrashing arms.
"ROXTON! It's really you! Oh my God! John," she moaned as she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips passionately against his. After several moments, he slowly pulled her away and looked at her with an amused grin . . .
"I know I'm a little late but I had no idea you would be this concerned!" But before he had even finished his statement, she was pressing urgent sweet little kisses all over his face and running her hands through his hair. I'll have to remember to tell Challenger that he could count on me to run all his errands from this point on!
"Marguerite!" a voice called from a little ways off, "Marguerite, darling how many times must I tell you not to wonder down here by yourself . . . you'll make some raptor a very tasty meal if you don't start being careful."
Marguerite jumped out of Roxton's arms at the sound of the deep male voice approaching from the direction of the treehouse. Roxton instantly missed her warm soft body and tried to tighten his arms but it was too late. She was out of his grasp . . . again.
Seeing the look of guilt and confusion on Marguerite's face, he belatedly realized that the voice approaching them was not Malone's or Challenger's. His eyes narrowed as he searched the darkness for the man quickly nearing them and he pointed his rifle in the direction of the footsteps.
"No," Marguerite said softly, stepping in his line of fire. She then turned to walk towards the man just as he reached the clearing. Roxton sucked in his breath at the look of total adoration on the man's face as he stared at Marguerite.
I'm gone one day . . . shaking his head and trying to clear his vision a bit more. But it didn't help . . . he still didn't recognize the man who was so evidently in love with his Marguerite.
Just then Byron peered over Marguerite's shoulder and saw a man pointing a rifle directly at her back! He quickly jumped in front of her intending to shield her body with his own.
Roxton was not amused. Who the hell does this bastard think he is? Marguerite was in no danger from him . . . he loved her even though he never had mentioned it to her. Besides, he was the one who should be protecting her. He felt his body start to tense as if bracing for a horrible blow.
"Who the hell are you?" Roxton asked the undeniably handsome stranger.
"Who are you?" was the infuriating reply.
"I asked first." Roxton said with a dangerous smile that didn't reach his cold eyes.
Byron observed the man for a few seconds. He looked extremely dangerous and yet Marguerite seemed perfectly at ease with the stranger who was still pointing the rifle straight at them. Well, that's not entirely true . . . he felt her body behind him and it was anything but relaxed. But somehow he didn't think she was taut because of fear.
Stepping beside Marguerite, he slipped his arm around her waist and answered, "Very well, I'm Lord Byron O'Connell, Marguerite's fiancé."
At the stranger's announcement, all the color drained from Roxton's face and he felt physically ill. He wanted to run the few steps separating them and remove Marguerite from this man's side. Instead he took a deep breath to keep his savage emotions in check and waited for a hot denial to fall from Marguerite's lips. He looked deeply into her eyes and immediately knew there would be no denial . . . the man was telling the truth.
"Marguerite . . ."
Through Roxton tried to stop the anguish and hurt from seeping into his voice, it was in vain. His feeling were laid out for all to see and a mass of rough emotions choked him before he could force any more words out.
Marguerite looked at him and her heart twisted as his handsome features showed his torment so obviously. She moved from Byron's side to take Roxton's rough hand in hers and gently caressed his face with her haunting eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Roxton."
It was the last thing he heard before he once again slipped into oblivion.