The Whitelands

by Meb

Years after finding their way home, Roxton and Marguerite are reunited in a crazy scheme to find a savage beast.

*** Thanks to Cal Gal, Eva, and Lady MR for their help***

London, December 1924

Marguerite stared out the window at the white blanket covering the city early that morning. The soft snow had started a week ago and the huge drifts looked like fluffy clouds spread over the ground. The day promised to be a repeat of yesterday which was a repeat of the day before that which was a repeat of the day before that . . . on and on in a vicious cycle. Turning away from the window, she sighed deeply and sipped her tea.

Marguerite had never been a person to stay in one place too long. Sometimes this particular trait had saved her life and other times . . .

The image of Lord John Roxton floated through her mind and she felt a familiar ache fill her once again. It had been one year, seven months, twelve days and four hours since she had last seen him. But who's counting, she thought bitterly.

A knock on the door brought her out of her painful reflections and she looked up to see Jeffery enter.

"There is someone on the line for you, Miss."

"This early?" She considered not taking the call but the frustrated realization that this might be the only novel thing to happen the entire day propelled her to pick up the phone. "Hello?"

"Marguerite! It's so good to hear your voice again my child," Professor Arthur Summerlee said pleasantly.

Chuckling, she replied good-naturedly, "I don't see how you had time to miss it, you talked to me yesterday."

"Yes, but it's always a pleasure my dear," he told her truthfully. Since her return from the plateau, Summerlee's paternal feelings for the heiress had grown and they saw each other practically every week. "I was hoping you could stop by my office this morning. I have something of great importance I must discuss with you."

"Is everything all right?" An uneasy feeling began forming in Marguerite's stomach. She had learned to trust her hunches. It was a skill that had been honed to perfection in the savage jungle she had found herself trapped in for years.

"I need your help on a small matter. Nothing to be concerned about," he assured her. "Malone will be joining us."

"What about Veronica?"

"I'm afraid not, she already has another appointment. The baby is due in two weeks you know."

She smiled at the eagerness she heard in her dear old friend's voice. Marguerite had to admit that even she was looking forward to the arrival of Ned and Veronica's little bundle of joy. She abruptly cut off that train of thought before her mind once again wandered towards the dark-haired hunter that haunted her dreams. She hadn't slept through a single night since they parted. "Then I'm surprised you could pry Malone away."

"I promised him it wouldn't take long," Summerlee said cheerfully. "How about nine o'clock?"

"I'll see you then. Goodbye Arthur." Hanging up the phone, Marguerite thought about what could possibly be the reason for the early morning meeting. Maybe he has another job for me, she wondered.

Summerlee had taken over the chair of the Botany department at Oxford upon his return. His discoveries from the "Lost World" made him a very famous and prestigious figure in London society. Being so close to her, he understood her need to be active and occasionally called upon her to run all over the world collecting samples or searching for some elusive plant. Marguerite thought about how much his little excursions helped her since she had come back and silently thanked the man who had become her surrogate father.

Walking into the library of her large home, she picked out a book at random and flopped down in a large leather chair. She had an hour before she had to leave and she needed something to distract her. Lately she hadn't been able to focus on even the simplest tasks. She had tried to blame it on boredom or the weather but she knew she was lying to herself. Veronica's impending motherhood weighed heavily on her mind and called up all sorts of "what-ifs". Even as she tried to stop it, she remembered the handsome face that she had come to love all those years ago. I wonder what our children would have looked like . . .

Her mind drifted back to the first few weeks after their return. When they arrived home from the plateau, there had been celebration after celebration to attend. It seemed that for that brief moment, they were the only story in England. Unbidden a memory enveloped her . . .

Lord Roxton's home was even bigger than she had imagined. Everyone in London showed up for the ball being held in honor of the Challenger Expedition's safe return. She looked around and saw Malone standing at the center of a large crowd, with Veronica at his side, telling one of the many stories he had recorded over the years they had been in "The Lost World". She smiled at the name . . . it wasn't lost anymore. Dozens of expeditions were at that very moment being mounted to further explore the far away plateau.

A little beyond Malone's group was another gathering of older gentleman and if the voices that drifted to her were any indication, Summerlee and Challenger were arguing about the genus of some plant they had discovered.

She was greeted by dozens of people as she went in search of the only member of the expedition she hadn't seen so far. Comments followed her as she worked her way through the crowd. "Isn't she lovely?" "I'm sure an engagement is imminent." "She's not nearly the angel she looks . . ."

She sighed. Some things never change . . . unfortunately wagging tongues was one of them. The crowd parted a bit and she finally saw him. He was standing near the stairs, his eyes scanning the masses as if looking for something. Then their eyes met. Her heart started beating faster and her pace noticeably quickened. He began making his way to her, barely acknowledging the hearty greetings yelled at him from various corners of the room. He looked so handsome in his formal attire but she was surprised to find she missed his worn khaki pants and torn, sweaty shirts.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," he said with a lopsided grin.

"What? And miss the chance to watch everyone fawn over Lord John Roxton, the only man in the world who can claim to have a T-Rex mounted above his fireplace."

If it was possible for a man of his background and stature to blush, Roxton appeared to do so. Music started to play and he offered her his arm, "May I have the pleasure of this dance?"

Taking his lead, she followed him to the ballroom and they started dancing. All eyes were on the attractive couple as Roxton elegantly moved her around the dance floor in time to the music. "This surely is a different type of jungle . . . did you miss it?" she asked softly.

Her breath teased the ends of his hair and he had to force himself to concentrate on the conversation. "I think a large part of me will always be more comfortable in the wilds of South America than rotting away at the family estate. But, duty calls . . ."

"I'd hardly say you've been rotting away since last I saw you," she commented without adding that the two weeks since they separated had been dull and lifeless due to his absence.

"You definitely look better for the time we've been apart," his eyes caressed her body as they traveled the length of her, taking in how the silver satin of her dress made her eyes sparkle and the way her hair was pulled back, which allowed the mass of black curls to cascade down her back.

"In the spirit of maintaining peace, I think I shall take that as a compliment rather than an insult towards my appearance on the plateau."

His eyes glowed with mischief and something else, something she couldn't easily identify, when he said, "In the spirit of maintaining peace, I won't correct your erroneous assumption."

When she struggled to back away from him, his arms tightened around her. "Roxton, if you want me to finish this dance, I suggest you mind your manners."

"Of course, Miss Krux. Please forgive me," he said with a feigned look of contrition.

They continued their verbal jousts for the rest of the night. Roxton never left her side, afraid that in his absence someone might try to gain Marguerite's attention . . . he had an important matter to discuss with her and he didn't want anyone to ruin his plans.

They had just left the ballroom when an elderly couple and a man roughly their age approached them. Roxton looked at Marguerite and smiled encouragingly before introducing her to his Mother, Uncle, and cousin.

"Miss Krux, it's so nice to meet the woman who saved my son on so many occasions," Lady Roxton said in a voice so weak that Marguerite strained to hear.

Nervous and not understanding why, Marguerite said the only thing that came to mind, "I believe you have me confused with Veronica."

Roxton's ardent laugh filled the room and caused several heads to turn in their direction. He looked at her warmly, trying to burn this image into his mind forever. He wanted to remember everything about tonight.

His besotted gaze did not go unobserved. His Uncle Thomas and cousin Joshua exchanged a troubled glance. Thomas gave his son a subtle nod and said, "What are your plans now that you have returned to civilization Miss Krux?"

Roxton cut in and said, "I'm sorry to interrupt old boy, but I promised Challenger the next dance with Marguerite."

Forgetting his family was present she said, "Isn't it the woman's job to fill up her own dance card?"

"You're my guest, I want you to relax and enjoy yourself . . . and besides, in order for me to relax, I'm afraid you're only allowed to dance with old men."

"Uh huh, and that would be because . . ." her voice faded off, waiting for his reason.

"No need to tempt fate, my dear Marguerite. And I've never seen you look more tempting."

Her eyes flew to his relatives to see their reaction to his bold comments. He seemed unaware or at least unconcerned about his breech in etiquette and whisked her away to find Challenger.

Challenger monopolized the conversation during their dance. He was complaining about Summerlee being a stupid fool and how he was trying to hog the glory all for himself. But even as he was saying it, Marguerite saw the respect and admiration he felt for his colleague and friend clearly shining in his eyes.

As their dance drew to a close, she felt a warm body standing behind her and thought Roxton had returned to deposit her with another "old man". However, when she turned around she was surprised to find Thomas hovering.

"I was wondering if you'd accompany me out to the gardens my dear. I would like to have a chat with you away from the noisy crowd."

Although his smile was obviously fake and didn't reach his eyes, she could think of no good reason to decline his offer. "Lead the way . . ."

He found a secluded bench off the left side of the courtyard. Marguerite was again struck by the prominent wealth of the Roxton family. The musical sound of the water falling from a large fountain in the center of the courtyard contrasted nicely with the faint music drifting out of the open windows and doors.

"Miss Krux, I don't want to mince words with you," he said in a brisk tone she was sure he normally reserved for servants. "John is in love with you."

His words should have brought her happiness but she was already bracing herself for what she was positive would be coming next.

"I'm sure I don't have to point out to you that if you encourage his advances, it would be disastrous for him. You, quite frankly, are no one. A nobody with nothing to offer a man like John. You are a pretty girl and I can see how he might have convinced himself that he feels something for you in such a dire situation as you found yourselves in, but you must realize that this is foolishness."

Marguerite wished she had her revolver with her now. She couldn't say that this little speech came as a surprise but it hurt nonetheless.

"I know I'm coming across as an unfeeling bastard but I'm doing this for your own good. How long do you think it will take John to get tired of you now that he's back in the civilized world? Do you really think you can make him happy? John is destined for grand things. You would only hold him back, close doors for him. You will never be truly accepted in our society."

"If this is any indication of how the civilized world is going to be, I think I'd rather go back to the plateau . . ."

***** *****

"It has to work, they're both miserable!"

Hearing Summerlee's agitated voice when she entered his office, she asked curiously, "What has to work and who's miserable?"

"Marguerite, so nice of you to finally join us," Ned Malone said with a smile that was at odds with his reprimanding words. Marguerite hugged him warmly and turned to give Summerlee a kiss on his wooly cheek as he continued, "Veronica sends her best."

"How is she? Still looking like a beached whale?"

"If you're asking if she's still as beautiful as ever, the answer is yes," the young reporter and novelist said in a blissful tone.

Marguerite marveled at the changes in her friend since his return. He was more confident and self-assured . . . not to mention deliriously happy. Veronica had agreed to marry him a few short months after they made it home. Now, just over a year after their wedding, he was within weeks of being a father. He had the love of his life by his side and they were starting a family together. He had also recently published his best-selling memoirs of their adventures on the plateau. He traveled all over the world for conferences and lectures and was becoming a very rich man.

"Come now, there is an important issue to discuss," Summerlee interrupted as he motioned his two friends to take a seat. He began shuffling through mounds of papers in his desk drawer. Apparently finding what he wanted, he walked over to the door to make sure it was locked.

"So much secrecy Summerlee! It's not like you to be so sneaky," Marguerite commented with an amused grin.

"He has every reason to be," Malone stated, watching his cohort play his part to perfection.

"Oh, so you already know the reason for this little meeting?"

"Marguerite, what is said in this room must be kept in the strictest confidence. Do I have your word?" The grave look in his eyes made Marguerite sit up a little straighter.

"Yes, of course Arthur. What's this all about?"

Still glancing around nervously, he proceeded to hand her the photograph. She studied it and looked up at him in confusion. "It's snow," she observed in a deadpan voice.

Malone exclaimed in shocked disbelief, "Marguerite don't you know what you're looking at!"

"Snow," she repeated, shifting her eyes from one man to another. Have they both gone mad?

"Marguerite, I want you to find that for me," Summerlee said, hardly able to contain the laughter that was threatening to escape.

An annoyed look crossed her face. Standing up quickly, she took him by the shoulders and marched him to the window. Pointing at the ground she said, "There you go . . . now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Look closer," Malone suggested helpfully.

Analyzing the photo by the light of a lamp near the window, Marguerite strained to figure out what they were talking about. The photograph was of poor quality, the graininess of it making it hard to discern details. However, soon an outline of a stocky form appeared. Pointing at it she asked, "What is that?"

"That, my dear, is the Abominable Snowman!"

***** *****

"You want me to find what?"

"Roxton think of the adventure it would be!"

Looking at his friend, Lord John Roxton wondered if he was going insane. When Professor George Challenger had called him last night and requested his company for breakfast, he had no idea what to expect. The idea that Challenger would ask him to roam halfway across the world to find a mythical creature definitely did not cross his mind.

Veronica watched the expressions cross over Roxton's face and she had to hide a smile. He thinks we're crazy! Despite the late term of her pregnancy, she still managed to move gracefully around the table to sit back down. However, she did feel very much like the beached whale Marguerite kept comparing her to.

When Challenger and Summerlee had come to her and Malone for help in their little matchmaking scheme, Veronica had thought they were crazy also. But she had seen how miserable Roxton and Marguerite were and was willing to play along with their conspiracy.

Challenger feared that Roxton was about to turn him down. Trying another track, he said, "Roxton, you know I wouldn't have bothered you so close to the holiday but time is of the essence. That damned fool Summerlee has spies everywhere . . . he already has a copy of this picture and he's trying to steal my discovery!"

Roxton looked at him doubtfully and asked, "I thought you two had put aside your differences. When did your rivalry heat back up?"

"When I showed him the picture and he claimed it was a fraud and a phony only to come back and steal it," Challenger was relishing his story now.

"Challenger, Arthur is no thief," Roxton said shaking his head.

"That doesn't matter now. All that matters is I find this creature before he does! I begging you, John, please help me."

Roxton had never seen Challenger so intense before. But even as he was considering the situation, something is the back of his mind was warning him that there was more to this story. "George there is no such thing—"

With a snort Veronica interjected, "They said the same thing about the dinosaurs, Roxton. Yet, you saw them with your own eyes."

"Don't tell me you believe this too?" Roxton glanced at the beautiful blonde pouring each of them a cup of tea. His face softened as he thought of the little child growing inside her now. He clamped his eyes closed as his mind tortured him with the image that was his most secret desire, one that would never be fulfilled . . . Marguerite pregnant with his baby.

He missed her, even though she had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. He had tried everything to get over her but no matter what he did he couldn't cleanse himself of her memory. The idea of spending another holiday alone finally made up his mind. "Challenger, my friend, you owe me," he said with smirk.

Breathing easy for the first time since the beginning of the meeting, Challenger slapped his friend on the back and exclaimed, "I knew I could count on you!"

***** *****

"But Marguerite," Summerlee tried to reason with the woman shaking her head across from him, "you are my last hope."

"I'm sorry Arthur but I will not indulge the delusional fantasy that seems to be running rampant through this office," she said fixing him with a hard look and then Malone.

Sitting down, he put his head in his hands. Time to go to Plan B, he thought. Lying through his teeth he said, "I already tried to get in touch with John but he wouldn't even return my calls."

Her ears perked up at the mention of Roxton's name and said she disgustedly, "He is so full of himself. The great and powerful Lord Roxton wouldn't dare demean himself by actually returning an old friend's call!" Her distaste covered her underlying despair. I guess it's a good thing I didn't give in to my urge to call him . . . if he won't talk to Summerlee then I don't stand a chance!

"Well you know he's so busy planning his wedding now he doesn't have time for us . . ." Malone said quietly.

Two heads snapped in his direction so quickly that it was almost comical. Summerlee gave him a look that urged him not to embellish the story and just stick to the agreed upon details. Marguerite's expression was harder to define but Malone guessed that it was somewhere between incredulity and anguish.

Malone continued, "I thought for sure you'd want to make the trip . . . if for no other reason than for the gold."

"Now you're speaking my language!" Better for them think I'm motivated by money than a broken heart . . . She had grown very close to both of these men but she would never let either of them see how much she still loved and missed Roxton.

"Which one would that be," he asked, referring to the woman's uncanny ability with linguistics.

"My favorite one and the only one that really matters . . . money!"

Malone continued his narrative, "Well the person who took this photo came back a very rich man! He claims he found gold in the caves where this 'snowman' dwells."

Not liking this turn of events, Summerlee jumped back into the conversation, "Of course there would be time for you to do whatever you desire once you find that beast!"

Her mind still on Roxton's marriage, she began to feel numb. The idea of staying in the area and hearing all the gossip about John and his bride would be too much for her to bear. She was surprised she hadn't heard anything about it already. After all, he was one of the most eligible bachelors in Europe. Sighing deeply she said, "All right Summerlee, but I'm only going because there is a possibility of finding gold."

Smiling softly he replied, "Of course my dear."

***** *****

One week later . . .

"NNNNNNNEEEEEEEDDDDDDD!!!"

"Let go of me! Something's wrong, I have to be with her!" Malone struggled against the arms restraining him.

"This is perfectly normal, my boy. She's in good hands," Summerlee assured him. It was his grandson who was the attending physician.

The door burst open and Roxton hurried in. "Am I too late?" He barely noticed that Summerlee and Challenger retreated to opposite sides of the room as soon as he entered.

"No," Challenger said with a smile. "I think you're just in time." As if on cue, the nurse came in and told the four anxious men that the head was now visible and the mother was doing fine.

Malone began pacing back and forth. Roxton fell in step with him and an amused smile lit up his face. "She's going to be fine, Malone."

A nervous look passed over his features and he took a deep breath, "I know. But she's a week early . . . I just wish they'd let me go in there. I feel like I'm abandoning her."

"With the condition you're in? You'd just make it worse, probably be in the way too."

"You sure know how to make a man feel better Roxton," he answered sarcastically.

"You can thank me by naming the lad after me," he teased his friend.

"What makes you think it will be a boy?"

The sound of squalling drifted to them from down the hall and they all rushed to the door as Doctor Arthur Summerlee III came in holding a healthy baby girl. "She's a beauty," he announced as he handed the small child over to her bemused father. Challenger and Summerlee gazed over his shoulders at her tiny features.

"She looks like you," Summerlee said softly.

"You're going blind old man, she's obviously the spitting image of Veronica," Challenger argued.

"Ten fingers and ten toes . . . what more could you ask for, eh Ned?" Roxton chose not to comment that both of his older friends were correct. Her eyes were definitely Veronica's but there was something about the way the little girl moved her mouth that made the resemblance to her father marked. He was thoroughly enchanted with his new niece. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Well almost, he amended as he wondered if Marguerite would be walking through the door at any moment. He had no way of knowing that she was already in the delivery room with Veronica. "What are you going to name her?"

Doctor Summerlee stated, "Veronica already named her and a beautiful name it is too." Seeing the questioning look on Roxton's face he answered, "Abigail Marguerite Malone."

The hunter felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him. The idea that Veronica named their daughter after the woman who so completely destroyed his hopes and dreams hurt. Don't be so foolish, they are still friends! Why shouldn't she name her child after Marguerite? He tried to hide his expression so his mood didn't distress the others.

Knowing him too well, Malone saw his friend's anguish and explained, "Veronica told me that when we first arrived on the plateau, Marguerite saved her life and jokingly told her if we had child that we had to name it after her . . ."

"Sounds like Marguerite," he replied, not quite succeeding at keeping the bitterness out of his voice. The chiming of the grandfather clock reminded him that he had a plane to catch. Finding it hard to tear himself away, he leaned over to kiss Abigail Marguerite. He knew the reason he was stalling was because he was hoping Marguerite would come sailing in, late as usual. Realizing he couldn't wait a second longer, he bid them goodbye and walked down the hall to see Veronica.

***** *****

A few moments earlier . . .

Eyes still wide open in awe, Marguerite bathed Veronica's exhausted features. She had never witnessed a birth before and seeing her brave friend screaming in pain had been terrifying. When the baby came out and Veronica saw her child, she had collapsed joyously. The event moved Marguerite so deeply she dropped her defenses and had cried happily when Doctor Summerlee handed her the baby. She is so beautiful, she thought as she remembered caressing the little baby's delicate skin and soft blonde hair. Trying to regain her composure she said jokingly, "You better relax now, you won't get another chance for at least eighteen or nineteen years."

"Thank you for being here Marguerite," Veronica said breathlessly.

"Don't be silly, I had nothing else planned for tonight. I had to find entertainment somewhere," she teased her friend.

"You found this entertaining?" Veronica meant to sound disbelieving but as the Doctor gently put the baby into her arms her tone was hushed. "I would like to introduce you to Abigail Marguerite Malone," the proud new mother said tearfully.

"Marguerite? You're naming your baby after me?" Smoothing an unruly curl behind her ear, Marguerite looked at her doubtfully.

"That was the deal remember?" Seeing the confusion on the dark-haired woman's face she explained, "Remember the first time everyone tried to get back home . . . the cave started falling down around us and I almost fell into a deep pit. You pulled me to safety and said that I could name mine and Ned's first child after you . . ."

Understanding dawned on her face and she argued, "Surely you don't think I really intended you to do it!"

"Whether you intended me to or not, I always keep my end of a bargain," she said. "Besides," her fatigued face spread into a soft smile, "you are the closest thing to a sister I've ever had Marguerite."

Fresh tears tried to force their way down Marguerite's face. Veronica never ceased to amaze her. Too overcome with emotion to talk, she simply reached down and squeezed the other woman's hand. Veronica was once again completely focused on Abigail Marguerite.

"I think I'll go clean up a bit if you'll be all right," Marguerite announced uncomfortably. She felt as though she was intruding on a very private moment between the new mother and her child. Veronica didn't even answer as she quietly slipped out of the room in search of a bathroom. A few minutes later Doctor Summerlee took the baby out to meet her father leaving Veronica in the room by herself.

A soft knock brought her out of her silent reflection and she grinned weakly as Roxton poked his head inside the partially open door. "May I come in?"

"Of course," she answered, patting beside her on the bed to indicate he could sit down.

"She's beautiful Veronica," he said, wonder creeping into his voice. "It's a good thing she takes after you," he added with a teasing smile.

The blonde woman stared at the man who had become like a brother to her and noticed his attractiveness had actually increased with age. The slight graying around his temples made him look more distinguished and the little wrinkles that appeared around his eyes and mouth when he smiled softened the features that had taken on a decidedly harsh cast since his return from the plateau.

Concern in his eyes, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been trying to outrun a T-rex for the last two days," she said with a laugh. "But it's a glorious feeling Roxton."

"I'm sure it is," his voice seeping with regret. He wanted so much to have a family but he couldn't bring himself to marry someone he didn't love and there was only one person he wanted. And she doesn't want me . . . "I'm sorry Marguerite wasn't here to see her."

Bewildered, she was about to explain that the heiress was indeed there but Malone walked into the room and said, "I leave you alone for a few minutes and already men have begun to seek you out."

Love clearly written over both their faces, Roxton cleared his throat and announced he had to be going. "With any luck, I'll be back from Challenger's foolhardy mission within a couple of weeks. But you know how unpredictable the plateau can be . . ."

"Good luck Roxton," Malone said, shaking his friend's hand with his free one, careful to keep the baby's head supported during the move.

"Be careful," Veronica warned.

Nodding at the couple, he flashed them one last smile and walked out of the room to go to the airport.

***** *****

Challenger and Summerlee watched Marguerite leave the next morning. She had been unusually quiet and sullen before her departure. There was a haunted look about her and it didn't appear she gotten much rest last night. Summerlee commented about the dark smudges under her eyes worriedly.

"None of us got any sleep last night, we were all too busy fussing over Veronica and Abigail," Challenger remarked with a grin.

"I think it was something more," Summerlee persisted.

"Of course it's something more. That's why we've sent them on this wild goose chase," Challenger replied.

When a former student of his surfaced with that picture at his office at the Zoological Society's headquarters (of which he was now the President), Challenger had simply filed away the photograph with the hundreds of others he had received over the past year. It seemed that everyone who went exploring on the plateau brought back a picture of some oddity. At first, he had investigated all of them but soon realized that most of them were just an attempt at notoriety or for money. However, that one photo continued to haunt him. Perhaps it is because we never explored the high altitudes thoroughly, he reasoned with himself. When Summerlee came to him for help, he saw the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. I'm sure it's a hoax but what if that fabled creature truly exists, his excited thoughts were once again running away with him.

Although he had been very busy since he returned, even he had noticed the sudden detachment between the two lovers. Thinking back to Roxton's ball, he recalled that everyone had expected an announcement of their betrothal that very night. Since then he had tried to broach the topic with John but was always swiftly rebuked. When he tried to talk to Marguerite about it, she would quickly change the subject or tell him that it was none of his business. Despite their estrangement, it was obvious to everyone that they were still in love. Neither one had gotten married, even though they haven't spoken for close to two years.

Challenger continued, "Once they get to the plateau and remember what they mean to each other, not to mention have a little time on their own to come to terms with their pride and tempers, they'll work it out."

"That's if she even lets him within a hundred feet of her after what Malone told her," his friend said as he puffed on his pipe.

"What did Malone tell her?"

Sighing, Summerlee said, "Only that Roxton is getting married."

"WHAT? What could have possibly possessed him to say that?"

"That overactive reporter's imagination of his I'm sure," Summerlee answered with a rueful grin. Maybe it'll turn out all right after all.

The two friends sat there contemplating this newest development as the snow continued to fall slowly. They were both thinking that nothing was going according to plan but, hopefully, their little scheme would end better than it started.

***** *****

As Marguerite's flight ascended into the sky, Roxton's flight was circling for it's landing on the airstrip just outside of Brasilia. 'Runway' was too grandiose a term for the long patch of dirt that divided the small clearing that was completely surrounded by the rainforest. He was the only other person in the plane and sat directly behind the pilot. Grateful that he didn't have to hold up his side of a conversation, he had gotten lost in a distant memory shortly after they left London. Now, almost a day later and on the other side of a vast ocean, it still replayed in his mind.

When he couldn't find her, he sought out Challenger and asked where she had gone. He informed him that Thomas had taken her out to the gardens for some fresh air.

"Perfect!" he exclaimed as he shook Challenger's hand excitedly.

"What's this all about my boy? Something going on that I should know about . . ." an eager twinkle in his eyes showing he already knew exactly what was about to happen.

"It just saves me the trouble of coming up with an excuse to get Marguerite off by herself so I can propose."

"Congratulations! It's about time."

"Don't congratulate me yet . . . she still has to say yes." He winked at Challenger and went in search of his love, confident of his success.

He found her sitting on a bench in the courtyard and thanked the heavens again for bringing her into his life. He walked over to her and found her deep in thought. "Penny for your thoughts . . ." he said quietly, not wanting to frighten her since she did not notice his arrival.

She jumped a little and smiled at him. He immediately saw the strain around her eyes and mouth and wondered what had upset in the few minutes he had left her alone.

Feeling his heart race, he took a deep breath and started before he lost his nerve. "Marguerite, we've been through a lot together and yet there are still things between us that are unfinished . . . what I'm trying to say is that since the first moment I saw you I knew you would change my life forever and now it is painful for me to imagine going through a day without you . . . these past two weeks have been torture. Marguerite, I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy because I know you're the only person who could ever make me feel this alive. Please do me the great honor of being my wife and I'll make sure you'll never regret it."

A tormented expression passed over her face and was quickly replaced by a blank stare. "Roxton, I'm afraid you've misread my feelings. You're a very good friend and if I've made you think that there was something more between us, I'm sorry." Seeing the anguish on his face and feeling his body tense, she almost called back her words and admitted she was lying but she knew she had to finish this. She couldn't handle being rejected again. Besides, she doing him a favor . . . saving him from himself. She couldn't marry him knowing that he would be miserable within a few months. Her own heart ached with love for the handsome man standing in front of her as she lied, "I don't love you Roxton, not as anything more than a friend."

She got up and calmly walked away and he stood there watching her go and wanting to die.

The less than graceful landing jolted him back to reality and he stared out into the lush land surrounding the runway. Just like I left it, he thought as a halfhearted smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

***** *****

One week later . . .

Roxton's first impression that everything had remained the same was revised as he drew nearer to the entrance for the cave that led to the plateau. The jungle had been carved away leaving a vast field that stretched as far as he could see in the dim light of dusk. Gone were the noises of the jungle animals, only to be replaced by the voices of hundreds of people. Makeshift houses were scattered along the edges of the clearing. Towards the center of the seedy little town the dwellings were replaced by rustic stores, hotels, and, most often, by pubs. The people he came in contact with over the past week were not the kind to trifle with. It seemed as though the plateau had become a magnet for every lowlife and scoundrel with enough ambition to make it this far into the jungle.

Roxton had killed time hunting in the surrounding area until tonight. His mood, already sour from the lack of big game (no doubt the result of the human encroachment), was steadily getting worse as he searched in vain for the Last Chance Saloon. Challenger had told him he would be meeting his companion for this trek at nine o'clock tonight at that pub. Unfortunately, these people seemed to have no problem with naming every other bar by the same name. After trying about six different "Last Chance" saloons, Roxton was about to give up. I don't really want to travel with anyone anyway. I don't know why Challenger insisted on it in the first place. Roxton knew the dangers as well as anyone, which was why he finally relented and agreed to meet up with this other man.

He was still muttering curses about this particular fool's mission and his friend's delusions when he saw a small form dash across the alley several hundred feet ahead of him. Something about the way the person was running made him pick up his pace. As he arrived at the point when the form had crossed, he heard footsteps approaching and several men talking loudly in a foreign language that sounded remarkably like German. Backing into the shadows, he waited for the men to run past him and tried to decipher what they were so anxious about. But it was no use . . . it had been years since he heard German and he had never been very good at languages.

Several seconds after the last man had run by him, he was about to emerge from his hiding place when he felt the cold metal of a knife against his throat. He quickly analyzed the situation, his instinct for survival still as sharp as ever. Before his attacker even had an opportunity to make any demands, he reached for the arm holding the knife as he bent his body and flipped his assailant over his shoulder. Placing his knee on the man's chest, he pounded his attacker's hand onto the rough stones of the alleyway until his death grip on the knife slackened and the weapon fell harmlessly to the ground. It was about that time he noticed the man had gone completely still. Shifting his knee slightly he came to another startling realization . . .

"You always did know how to treat a woman, Roxton," the smoky voice from his dreams taunted him.

Narrowing his eyes in disbelief, he jumped up as if coming in contact with her had scalded him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Marguerite retorted angrily. Getting up, she began to dust off her pants and curse in dozens of different languages.

Overwhelming joy flooded him at being so close to her again but knowing how dangerous an emotion that could be, as well as how poorly he hid his feelings, he focused on the anger still running through his veins at being attacked. "You could have killed me!"

"And I suppose you were just trying to teach me how to dance!" His voice flowed over her making it hard to even think much less talk. All she wanted to do was throw her arms around his neck and breath in his rugged scent. The awareness that things were completely different now only caused her to get more upset.

Hearing the armed Germans doubling back, he looked at Marguerite accusingly and hissed, "What have you done now?" He grabbed her hand, pleased that it still fit comfortably in his, and half-dragged her into an open doorway a few feet away.

"No one asked you to help me Roxton," she said as she struggled to get out of his grasp. The man has a grip like a vise! "I was doing just fine on my own!"

"Yes," he said, putting his hand over her mouth to shut her up. "You always do! Now be quiet or you'll get us both killed."

Realizing that for better or for worse she was stuck with Roxton for the next few minutes, she relaxed her body and went silent. She knew she was weak for leaning into him but she had dreamed of this moment for too long not to take advantage of it. Well not exactly this moment, she amended as she heard the Germans approach the doorway. She fought to make out their dark forms as they examined the alleyway Roxton had just pulled her from. They certainly aren't giving up easily. Of course, what do I expect? General Dietrich is their commander . . .

As soon as she ceased her struggling, Roxton had eased his grip on her mouth but he still held her hand tightly within his own. When she had leaned against him, it was all he could do to keep from declaring his feelings for her and ordering her to come back to him. His free hand started to slowly caress her shoulder and neck as they listened to the receding footfalls of their would-be trackers.

Both of their breathing was labored and the air seemed to fill with a sort of excitement that had nothing to do with their narrow escape. Marguerite decided that she should put some distance between them before something happened that they'd both regret. He's going to be married, she told herself when another disturbing thought crossed her mind. He may already be married! It's possible that his new bride is somewhere around here. Leave it to Lord Roxton to bring his wife here on their honeymoon, she thought sarcastically even as she fought down disappointment that she wasn't the one he had brought here for a romantic getaway. Her reflections were more than enough to catapult her away from him. "It was nice seeing you again," she said bitterly, making her way out the door. "Let's not do this again—"

He had immediately sensed the change in her. One moment she had wanted him as badly as he wanted her . . . he was sure of it. He had no idea what had changed her mind but he wasn't going to let her go so easily. "Oh no you don't," he exclaimed as he brutally grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back into their hiding place. "Why are those men after you?"

"You know me . . . I'm always in demand."

"Marguerite this is not a game! You could have been killed!" Her flippant attitude about the dangerousness of the situation was really getting under his skin. Why do I even care? She obviously doesn't care about me . . .

"So what if I was? I'm not, nor have I ever been, your responsibility Lord Roxton," she said harshly. How dare he act like he cares what happens to me when he hasn't even talked to me for over a year and he's probably got a wife a couple of shacks away! She conveniently ignored the fact that the phone worked both ways and she hadn't called him either and that he had offered her marriage first and she had turned him down.

"Fine Marguerite, have it your way. But you better be more careful because next time I won't be around to save you," he warned.

"You didn't save me this time," she said under her breath. Louder she added, "I guess this is goodbye then." Not waiting for him to say anything, she hurried out the door and down the alley. She didn't want to give him a chance to tell her he was married. She didn't want to hear about how happy he was with his bride or how grateful he was that she had kept him from making the mistake of marrying her. Getting more aggravated with every step, she finally found the Last Chance Saloon and waited inside for her guide to show up. She was already considerably late due to the fiasco with the Germans and her reunion with Roxton so she as surprised that "JR" hadn't arrived yet. Ordering a drink, she settled down at a table in the back corner and waited for the man to show up. I hope Summerlee didn't mess up the instructions somewhere along the way.

Roxton had waited a few minutes after she left until his heartbeat was back to normal and he could focus on his surroundings. Something was definitely amiss and he needed his wits about him if he wanted to stay alive. Of course now that I'm away from Marguerite, it may be smooth sailing from this point on, he tried to convince himself. He paid no attention to the hollow feeling that was slicing through him since her departure or the voice in his head calling him a fool for letting her leave.

He walked out into the alley and made his way to the nearest Last Chance Saloon. Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll be waiting inside for me. Realizing what he had just thought, he corrected himself, Maybe he'll be waiting for me. Challenger instructed him to look for someone who didn't belong and that would be the person he was supposed to meet.

Making his way into the grimy bar, he first scanned the room for any of the Germans. All the people looked the same: dirty hair, shifty eyes, and probably not a full row of teeth if you added everyone's together and multiplied by two. Then his eyes met Marguerite's across the room and he groaned inwardly even as a smile broke out across his face.

Walking over to her table, he said by way of greeting, "Now what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" As soon as the words left his mouth, it dawned on him that he had been set up. Marguerite definitely did not look like she belonged. Truth be told, she stuck out like a sore thumb. So Challenger decided to play games with us, did he? If he weren't so annoyed at flying halfway across the world, he would have laughed. Couldn't he have tried it in England?

Marguerite refused to look him in the eyes. Instead she focused on his callused hand. The gold ring he had worn for as long as she could remember stared brightly back at her, the initials JR gleaming under the dim lights. Hardly able to keep a frustrated growl from escaping she said, "JR I presume?"

He lifted his eyebrow quizzically at her and she explained, "Summerlee told me I would be meeting my guide, JR, here tonight at nine."

"So he was in on it too huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Challenger told me to come in here and look for someone who didn't belong. I'm assuming he meant you," Roxton said as he picked up her glass and downed the whiskey in one gulp. I'm going to need a lot more where that came from. He motioned for the barmaid to bring him two more.

Marguerite grabbed one of the drinks out of the woman's hand and took a long swig. It was then that Roxton noticed her hand was bloodied and bruised. "Did they do that to you?"

Rolling her eyes she answered, "No, you did."

Shock crossed his face as a denial hovered on his lips. Then he remembered beating his attacker's hand against the cobblestones in order to make her drop the knife. "You didn't leave me much choice," he said quickly, his eyes conveying the apology he couldn't bring himself to speak out loud.

Taking out his handkerchief, he dipped it in his drink and wrapped it around the worst of the cuts. "Not the best thing but I think it will fight off infection," he murmured. He didn't let go of her hand when he was done mending it. He kept massaging the tender flesh gently between his long, lean fingers.

How she kept herself from moaning, she would never know. She pulled her hand back with much regret and changed the subject, "So what are we going to do?"

Looking at her thoughtfully, he considered his options. He could return home to London and spend Christmas by himself and probably never see Marguerite again. Or he could continue on without her and try to find this creature; at least he would be doing something. Or he could make the most of the little time he had left with her and try to figure out where they went wrong . . . "What do you think we should do?"

"Lord Roxton asking for advice from someone else? I'm speechless!"

"That's a first," he said sarcastically. "Well . . ."

"I promised Summerlee I would find that stupid creature for him. I don't know if he even really believes it exists but I don't intend to go home without at least trying," she said. Besides, there's nothing there for me but an empty house and old memories.

For the first time since the night she broke his heart, he felt alive. Nodding slowly so as to not appear too eager, he agreed, "Yes, I promised Challenger the same thing. Looks like we're stuck together."

"No one said we had to travel together," Marguerite argued. She was afraid of what might happen if she spent the next several weeks traveling alone with him.

"Humor me," he ordered in voice that she knew better than to argue with. The waitress brought another couple of drinks. The two explorers eyed each other wearily over their glasses before raising them in a toast.

"To the Abominable Snowman," they said in unison.

***** *****

"And to think I was actually starting to miss this place," Marguerite grumbled the next morning as she walked out onto the plateau and was blinded by the bright sunlight. She tried to wring as much water out of her hair and clothes as possible while Roxton checked their supplies for water damage. "Seems like Challenger and Summerlee could have sent us on this little adventure during the dry season."

The only known way onto the plateau was a cave that was hidden for most of the year by a large waterfall. It had taken them years to find it because they had been focusing on the wrong end of the Summerlee River.

When he walked out of the jungle that day as if he had just returned from a walk instead of a yearlong absence, Arthur informed them that he knew the way off. The message he had been trying to send them when they had experienced their "dreams" was the location of the cave. Though he tried to convey to them the right direction, the explorers had been drawn to the last place their friend had been seen at the end of the river rather than at its source. He never offered any explanation of where he had been or how he knew the way off; much less how he had been able to send them messages. After months of trying, they eventually gave up attempting to pry the answer out of him.

Roxton was about to comment that maybe they didn't think it could wait that long but decided against it. He was not good at deception, especially with his friends, and he was positive that they had seen how far he was sinking since Marguerite walked out of his life. As much as he would like to deny it, he knew that he couldn't have lasted much longer. Quite intentionally his friends had given him a push in the right direction, now it was up to him as to whether he sank or swam.

"No T-rexes, no raptors, no scantily clad Voodoo priestess . . . I don't know how you're going to amuse yourself Roxton," Marguerite commented.

"I'm sure I'll find some way of keeping myself entertained," he said as he ran an avaricious glance over her body. She quickly turned away and he began to survey the land that stretched out in front of him. From their vantage point halfway up the steep mountain, he was shocked at the tranquility of this place compared to the plateau from his memory. As Marguerite said, there were no dinosaurs flying around or munching on the tall trees below. However, besides their notable absence, it appeared the same. Upon further investigation, he noticed the trees were a bit thinner in places and every so often there would be slight rumble like thunder in the distance. Looking over his shoulder at Marguerite he said, "Welcome to the new and improved Lost World!" Despite his words, there was a wretched feeling in him that this place might have changed but it was definitely not for the better.

***** *****

They had been walking for eight days when they reached the treehouse, or rather what had been the treehouse. There had been an eerie silence during their hike—they only ran into a dozen dinosaurs and had yet to come in contact with the malicious headhunters that had inhibited the area when they departed.

Marguerite sucked in her breath at the sight before her. Their home—which was exactly how she would always remember the place—was completely destroyed. Only a few remaining pieces of the terrace gave any hint that there had been a structure there at one time. "The jungle didn't do that," she stated calmly, giving no hint to the turmoil raging inside her.

"No, looks like somebody was searching for any treasures we might have left behind," he said as he analyzed the damage. It looked as though it had been taken apart a piece at a time and then set on fire. Change of plans, he thought knowing that it was impossible for them to rest here for a few days. "We'll head over to the Zanga village, maybe Assai has a place for us."

"What makes you think they'll still be there?"

"What makes you think they won't be?"

"In case you didn't notice, it seems as though the tribes have been fleeing from this area to the parts that the new explorers haven't yet penetrated."

"We'll head in the direction of the village anyway. Even if they have moved on, it's a good defensible position to make camp," he said with one final glance at the place that was the location of the happiest moments of his life. This isn't turning out to be the trip down memory lane that I'm sure Challenger was hoping for!

Marguerite saw something glittering near the base of the tree and walked over to examine it. She leaned down and saw a shard of her old mirror. Seeing her reflection in the broken piece, she remembered how she would stare into it and wonder if she'd ever get back home. She choked back tears when she realized that she had finally returned to the only home she had ever known.

"Marguerite! Hurry up, we have to make it to the village by nightfall," her companion barked anxiously as he made his way back to her. Tucking something into her bag before he could see it, she rushed to meet him halfway. When he looked at her curiously, she just brushed past him without a word. Must have found some gems she forgot to pack when we left, he thought grimly as trudged along behind her. I haven't seen her eyes sparkle like that in a long time . . .

After a few hours, Marguerite remembered why she didn't like taking the lead on hikes through the jungle. Her hair and clothes were covered with dirt, spider webs, and other substances she had yet to identify. Her arms were scratched up from various branches and twigs that snagged her as she passed by and she seemed to have an unusual knack for finding little holes just big enough to twist an ankle in.

Roxton was having enough trouble of his own trying to concentrate on walking. The rhythmic sway of her hips as she stumbled along in front of him was hypnotic. Hearing her break into another string of curses as she fell into yet another shallow hole, he smothered a laugh and thought, She has a mouth on her that could make a sailor blush! Her latest tirade finally subsiding, he suggested a break and handed her his canteen. "We're almost there," he announced as she took a drink.

"That's a relief, if it were too much further you'd have to carry me," she moaned.

He threw her a look that told her how unlikely the event of that happening would be and took the lead. She continued complaining the rest of the way and he was amazed that it was like music to his ears. God, I've even missed her whining!

It had been dark for about an hour when they arrived at their destination. Roxton indicated that she should stay put while he circled the village. Marguerite gave a frustrated sigh to express how silly she thought his precautions were but remained rooted in the exact spot he left her.

Marguerite could tell that something was wrong as soon as she saw his face. She almost groaned, knowing she could kiss her dreams of a relatively soft bed and a decent meal away. In a defeated voice she asked, "What's the matter now?"

"This village is no longer inhibited by the Zanga."

"Well can't we strike up a deal with whoever's in charge?" Seeing the expression on his face she knew there was something he wasn't telling her.

Pulling her around the edge of the village, he pointed to twenty or so men gathered around a campfire. Marguerite's eyes widened when she saw the German uniforms by the firelight. "Could this day get any better?"

"We best get out of here. Come along Marguerite, you know what they say . . . no rest for the wicked," he teased her with a wink. It was then that he made his first of many mistakes. In spite of her harried façade, Roxton felt her body tense and terror lurking behind her mask of irritation. Maybe it was the combination of the moonlight and faint sparks of the fire he saw reflected in her silvery-blue eyes or maybe he had just fought against his feelings for this woman for too long but, whatever the reason, he couldn't maintain his distance any longer. Putting an arm around her he kissed her forehead and tried to comfort her, "After we get a few miles away, we'll camp for the night."

She rested her head against him for a few seconds . . . that's all she would allow herself. Roxton didn't know the danger they were in; she didn't completely understand it herself. Although she didn't know the reason for his presence, she knew that General Dietrich was a cruel man and that his residence on the plateau did not bode well for anyone, least of all her.

She closed her eyes and relished the sense of safety she only felt when she was with this man. Drawing strength from his nearness, she pulled away and touched his face softly. She whispered, "Roxton—"

The next thing she knew she was forced to the ground and Roxton was kneeling beside her with his gun drawn. He motioned for her to be quiet and pointed in the direction of the camp. Then she heard a twig snap and the sound of a man making his way towards them. He stopped a mere thirty feet away and began to relieve himself on a nearby tree. Holding her breath, she waited until the man sauntered back towards camp before getting up and making a hasty escape into the jungle followed closely by Roxton.

***** *****

The next morning Roxton woke Marguerite up and smiled when she grumbled sleepily, "Leave me alone."

"Afraid not, my little sleeping beauty. We have to find Assai," he said cheerfully. There were more than a few times last night that she had snuggled into his arms when he had been keeping watch. Now why can't she be as accommodating while she's awake!

"Assai? I thought we were looking for Frosty the Snowman . . ." she said sarcastically. Her mood was not improved by the fact that he had interrupted the first good night's sleep she had had in over a year. She was even more annoyed that she kept dreaming of being in Roxton's embrace . . . it felt so real she wondered if it was a dream.

"First things first, I have a bad feeling about the Zanga abandoning their village. Those Germans are up to something," he explained as he handed her some dried meat. He also realized that the Zanga, if they were still alive, would know where the herds had moved. They were getting dangerously short on food and the only tracks around the area were months old.

Seeing the grim expression on the hunter's face, she wondered what he would say if she told them exactly who they were dealing with. She considered the possibility but decided against it because it would raise too many questions. Munching thoughtfully on her breakfast, she walked to the stream a short distance away from their camp.

Taking off her shirt, she proceeded to wash her face and arms as best she could. The cool fresh water was refreshing and put her in better spirits. She glanced around to see if Roxton had followed her. Not seeing him, she decided to take a quick swim and swiftly took off the rest of her clothes. She sighed happily at the feeling of the water flowing over her body and continued washing up.

Completely involved in checking their food supplies and weapons, Roxton didn't notice her departure. He followed her trail down to the creek and found her clothes folded on a large rock. She emerged from underwater with the most delicious smile on her face and he couldn't help smirking at the sight of her. "Old habits die hard . . ."

"I like to be clean," she stated. Turning her nose up at his sweaty clothes she said, "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Oh is that right?"

Seeing the challenge in his eyes she looked at him warily. "Turn around."

He ignored her as he pulled off his boots and placed them on the ground. Setting his hat on top of them, he unbuttoned his shirt and placed it in a neat pile next to hers. Humming, he stood up to continue undressing.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take a bath. If I had know my odious smell was offending you, I would have done it earlier," he explained as he slipped his suspenders off.

"Roxton, you stop this instant! Turn around and let me get out."

"You can get out anytime you want to Marguerite. Far be it from me to stop you."

Narrowing her eyes at him she warned, "If you get in, you will regret it."

"Ah but my dear Marguerite," he said with his eyes dancing, "I have a feeling I would regret not getting in more."

Marguerite's eyes widened as he reached to pull off his pants and she was about to turn away, the sight of his naked chest already conjuring up all sorts of feelings, when a surprised voice called out, "Roxton! Marguerite!"

Both explorers turned towards the familiar voice as Jarl came running towards them. He looked exhausted and had several bruises on his arms and face. "My friends, I'm so glad to see you. Are the others here also?"

"It's just us I'm afraid," Roxton said while clasping the other man's hand in a friendly handshake. "What has happened? Why have you moved your village?"

A look of hatred passed over the man's face and he was about to answer when Marguerite coughed behind him. Jarl spun around to look at her as she was hunched down in the water. Looking back at Roxton's half-dressed body, he smiled despite the present circumstances. Patting him on the back he said to Roxton, "So you two finally admitted the obvious and got married! Congratulations!"

Something resembling pain flashed in Roxton's eyes and Jarl looked over at Marguerite to see her staring at the water in embarrassment. Perhaps I misunderstood the situation, the chief thought.

The tense silence hung in the air a few more seconds before Marguerite huffed, "If you two would be so kind . . ." Jarl immediately turned around and noticed his friend waited a breath or two before joining him. They heard her get out of the water and quickly dry off. As soon as she was dressed she cleared her throat and asked, "So Jarl, what brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"I escaped," he started.

"Escaped? From whom?"

"Fair-haired people from your world. They speak another language and all dress in the same clothes," he explained. Marguerite and Roxton exchanged a troubled glance. Jarl described their German neighbors perfectly.

"What do they want with your people?" Roxton felt as though he was missing a vital piece of information. None of this makes sense. The war has been over for years . . . why is there a German military presence on the plateau?

"They want our warriors to track the beasts. They are keeping the others prisoner in order to force us to help." Before the explorers could ask him to explain what he meant he continued, "They have Assai . . . they have all my people. You must help me free them."

"How far away are they? We passed your village last night and there were only about twenty men there," Roxton said.

"They are being kept in the Whitelands," Jarl said, pointing up to the snow-capped mountains. "Not more than two days journey from here. I escaped to try to raise a resistance with the other tribes on the plateau but now that you're here we can head straight there."

"Whoa, now let's not get ahead of ourselves," Marguerite interrupted, her strong sense of self-preservation keeping her from rushing headlong into a lost cause. "How many Germans are at this camp in the 'Whitelands'?"

"Marguerite," Roxton warned her in a harsh voice. He couldn't believe she was considering deserting their friends. Without the Zanga people, they would have died before they ever found a way home.

"What? The three of us against an entire German regiment? You can't be serious!"

He squared off against her and they glared at each other. Jarl shook his head at their antics. Nothing is ever simple with these two . . . "There are only thirty men guarding the camp. Their leader is among them."

"Oh, only thirty? No problem! Hell, I think I'll just leave my gun here . . . give them a fighting chance," she muttered under her breath. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. If General Dietrich was there, the Zanga were as good as dead. Her conscience pricked at her mind. She knew she couldn't leave them there at the mercy of that madman but she didn't want to get herself killed in the process of saving them. "We need a plan."

"We'll think of one on the way," Roxton ordered at he shouldered his pack.

"I don't think you understand who you're dealing with Roxton," Marguerite cautioned before she could stop herself. Damn it! He started to look at her . . . more like he was looking in her and seeing what she was thinking.

"And you do," he stated.

She shifted uncomfortably and admitted, "Yes."

"Would you care to enlighten the rest of us?"

"Not particularly. Let's get going," she said as she started in the direction of the mountains.

Jarl and Roxton followed along behind her. Jarl told of his father-in-law passing into the next world and how he was now chief of the tribe. He beamed as he told the hunter of his two children. Assai had given birth to twins: one boy, Terus, and a girl, Ura. Roxton avoided talking about his life as he watched the woman hiking in front of them. Instead, he told Jarl about Ned and Veronica's baby. Marguerite had been listening to the conversation and added, "She is a beautiful baby."

"How would you know? You didn't even bother to show up for the delivery," he accused her.

"Once again Roxton, you have no idea what you're talking about. I was in the delivery room the whole time. I was the first person to hold little Abigail Marguerite," she said over her shoulder with a sneer.

Shrugging, he continued filling his friend in about what Challenger and Summerlee were doing now that they were back in London but his mind was on what Marguerite had said. He wondered if anything would be different if he had seen her that night. He surely wouldn't be trekking through the jungle right now. Then it dawned on him that there was no place he'd rather be. At least I'm in the only place I've felt content since William died . . . and Marguerite is with me.

When Roxton fell silent, Jarl asked, "What about you Marguerite? What have you been up to?"

At a loss for words, Marguerite finally joked, "Looking for a rich husband." As soon as she said the words she wished she could call them back. John's face froze and he refused to look at her. What does he have to be upset over? He's already got a wife! "Why don't you ask what Lord Roxton has been doing?"

The other man looked at him questioningly and Roxton said, "A little hunting—"

"Is that what they're calling it now? Why don't you tell Jarl about the fine trophy you've caught?"

Thoroughly bewildered at her words as well as her attitude, he simply said, "Well there was that large grizzly bear in North America . . ."

Marguerite snorted and stomped off. He is the most infuriating person I've ever met!

He asked quietly, "Was it something I said?" The only response was a sympathetic look from Jarl.

The chief looked at the woman distancing herself from them and then at the man beside him. "Roxton, what has happened between you two?"

"Hell if I know."

***** *****

"Now what, oh fearless leader?"

He grimaced at the first words Marguerite had spoken to him in nearly two days. He surveyed the camp and shivered from the cold. Here in the higher elevations, it stayed below freezing year round.

Jarl's normally golden brown skin had taken on an unhealthy blue pallor and Marguerite could hear his teeth chattering. Taking a jacket out of her pack, she handed it to him wordlessly. He tried to put it on but it was much too small for his muscled arms so he merely wrapped it around his shoulders. The Germans required them to take off the furs they were given for hunting upon their return to the camp. It was meant to keep them from trying to leave. Their captors believed the threat of freezing to death would be a deterrent but they underestimated Jarl's courage and stamina. "I will scout out the north side of the camp tonight and we can meet back here tomorrow morning."

Nodding in agreement, Roxton told his friend to be careful and headed further south to find a protected shelter for the night. Marguerite followed his footprints in the snow blindly. She had no feeling in her feet or hands and her nose had taken on a red tint that Roxton thought was adorable even though it had turned up at him for most of the journey.

He stopped so abruptly that she almost ran into him. Leaning in so she could hear him above the roar of the wind, he indicated they would stay in one of the caves until they met Jarl the next morning. They both gathered wood as they slowly made their way to the little opening in the side of the mountain.

Marguerite wished for the large warm bed awaiting her at her house. However, the cave did block most of the wind and kept them dry. Thinking back on other adventures she had on the plateau, she knew she should consider herself lucky to have the dirty, cold cave.

Roxton immediately built a small fire and set out their sleeping mats. Jarl had managed to kill a large bird and he placed their half above the flames and settled himself against the rocky wall behind him.

The bird was tough and they only had melted snow to drink but Marguerite was too tired to comment. Roxton had been studying her throughout dinner and she was completely unnerved. Without a word, she bundled up in her blanket and tried to get some rest. She felt his eyes boring into her back and snapped, "Is there something you wish to discuss?"

"I'm rich."

Flipping over, she was surprised to see he had bridged the distance and now sat next to her. "That's very nice Roxton. I'm glad you shared that with me. Now if you don't mind—"

"So why didn't you want to marry me?"

Marguerite tried to figure out what was going on in his mind. He didn't appear to be angry or upset. But he didn't seem happy either. Maybe he just wants to rub it in that he's found someone better.

"I've missed you," he said in a surprised voice as if he was just discovering the fact himself.

"You and me were a disaster waiting to happen."

"Yes, you've said that before. But I thought things had changed between us."

"Well you were wrong," she whispered. She wanted him to leave her alone. "I'm sure you're glad we didn't work out now."

"Why do you think that?"

"Don't play games with me Roxton! I'm in no mood for them. I've traveled halfway across the world to find a stupid snowman that doesn't even exist only to discover that it's just one of Challenger's harebrained machinations. Now I'm stuck here in a frozen wasteland with a ruthless German general breathing down my neck and you want to talk about the good old days? Just go to bed!"

He laid down within arm's length of her and remained silent. She started to shiver and pulled her blanket tighter. Sighing she tossed and turned for several minutes before giving up and becoming lost in her thoughts.

He had been aware of her every move and was fighting a losing battle within himself. Having her that close and not touching her was like finding a stream in the desert and not taking a drink. She looked at him and he could see the cold had drained the color from her face. Understanding that they would both freeze to death if they didn't do something remembered the last time they were in the mountains and smiled. "This is ridiculous Marguerite, we're not going to make it through the night if we don't warm up," he said in a soothing voice. Lifting the corner of his blanket he commented, "I won't bite . . . too hard."

Marguerite was tempted to take him up on his offer for reasons that had nothing to do with being cold. "I try not to make it a habit to cuddle up with married men."

Confused, but too needy to argue with her, he simply said, "I'll keep that in mind. Now get over here."

If he doesn't care then neither do I. Moving next to him, she got under his blanket and kept her back to him. Feeling slowly returned to her limbs and with it came the drowsiness of exhaustion. Her breathing evened out and she soon drifted off into sleep.

Moving closer to her sleeping form, he inhaled her scent and placed his arms around her. For the first time in a long while, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

***** *****

Marguerite woke up with a start and felt the steely arms encasing her. With great effort she disentangled herself without waking the handsome man beside her. She silently moved to throw more wood on the fire and her sleepy eyes just about popped out of her head. The flickering flames caught the glittering metal running throughout the walls of the cave. There was enough gold here to make her the richest woman in the all of England! I must have been comatose earlier to have missed this! Lighting a torch, she explored deeper inside the cave. Running her hands over the numerous veins of precious metal in wonder, she smiled greedily. This trip wasn't a total waste after all!

She heard something next to her and realized it was the same noise that woken her up a few minutes before. Pulling her gun out of its holster, she began hunting for the source of the sound. After an extensive search she was frustrated to only find a dozen piles of snow. Her thoughts about how the snow could have been blown so deeply into the cave were interrupted when she felt something touch her shoulder. Letting out a small shriek, she spun around to see Roxton looking at her disapprovingly.

"What do you think—" The hunter immediately shut up when he heard the sound of heavy breathing. Grabbing her torch, he made a quick scan of the area. Like Marguerite, he didn't see anything but snow. "What is that noise?"

"I thought it was you snoring . . ." she replied in the same hushed voice he was using.

"I don't snore. What are you doing back here?"

Taking her torch back, she held it up next to the wall. Roxton saw the rock shimmering back at him with the unmistakable brilliance of gold and whistled in amazement.

"Exactly," she agreed with a smile.

The noise was getting louder and Roxton decided it would be in their best interests to move back towards the mouth of the cave. Examining the area one last time he nearly jumped out of his skin when he thought he saw one of the piles of snow move. Clutching Marguerite's arm, he tried to haul her away but only managed to draw an outraged cry from her.

"We have to get out of here," he explained.

"Not a chance, Roxton! Not until I get a sample of this!"

"Now is not the time Marguerite." His gut was telling him to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

She was about to argue with him when a movement over his shoulder caught her attention. Her eyes widened in terror and astonishment. Seeing her expression, he turned around as he reached for his revolver. Both explorers froze in place, completely disbelieving of the sight in front of them.

By the dim light of the torch, they saw one, then another, of the snowdrifts get up and move towards them. By the time Roxton regained his composure, he barely had enough time to fire a shot before one of the creatures tried to attack Marguerite. In the background, several more of the creatures were rousing from their slumber and starting to join the skirmish.

Fighting the beast off his companion, he grabbed the torch and urged her towards their camp. She yelled over her shoulder as she ran out of the cave, "What the hell were those things?"

Reaching down to pick up their packs without breaking his stride, he answered, "Those my dear, were 'abominable snowmen'! And they didn't seem to take kindly to being disturbed."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Trying to catch her breath now that they were a safe distance away, she shook her head. "They don't exist."

"Okay Marguerite, then how do you explain what just happened?"

Thinking it over for a moment she answered, "Good point."

"Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be," she replied with a hoarse laugh.

Concern plainly written on his face he said reassuringly, "Don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

"No offense Roxton but you frighten me much more than our snowy neighbors," she said ruefully.

"Little old me? What's so frightening about a rich old man? Seems like you'd be all over me instead of avoiding me like the plague." He couldn't keep the venom out of his voice and wasn't surprised to feel the full force of her small hand connect with his cheek. He was surprised, however, that the damn he had built on his emotions seemed to shatter with her powerful slap.

"You're a bastard Roxton!"

"I'm a bastard? I wasn't the one who walked out of your life without a reason! I offered you everything and you threw it back in my face! You made me believe you felt something for me and then you left without a backward glance."

"I did you a favor!"

"Well forgive me if I don't fall to my knees to thank you for your generosity," he said mockingly. When she turned to leave, his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her body to his. He whispered in her ear, "I'm getting sick and tired of you walking away from me."

"Now what would your wife think if she found us like this Lord Roxton," she said with a sneer.

Turning her around to face him, he let out a frustrated growl and kissed her roughly. She struggled to get away from him. She finally managed to slip from his grasp and held up her hand in warning as he started to reach for her again. "Don't Roxton," she said in a shaky voice. "I'm trying to do the noble thing for only about the second time in my life, please don't mess it up for me."

"Where's the nobility in denying both of us what we want?"

She looked at him with skepticism. Does he really think so little of the vows of marriage? I must have rubbed off on him during the expedition, she thought sadly. "Your wife would probably think differently."

Thoroughly baffled with her continued references to his nonexistent wife, he said, "You're right, if I had a wife she would probably object."

"If? Now you're denying you have a wife?"

"Of course I'm denying it. It's not true."

"Then I think you need to talk to Malone because he seems to hold a different opinion on the matter," she said as she tried to ignore the glimmer of hope that had sprung in her heart at his words.

Backing away from her and holding his hands up in a gesture of peace he suggested, "I think it's time we had a little talk."

"I don't think there's anything we need to discuss," she argued with an angry toss of her head.

"I'm not married Marguerite. You're the only woman I've even made the offer to," he said, the earnest look in his eyes urging her to believe him.

"That may be true but it doesn't change anything between us," she said while she tried to mask the despair her own words brought her.

Changing tracks he asked, "Why did you refuse to marry me?" Even if it killed him, he needed to know for the sake of his own sanity.

Looking everywhere but at him she tried to put her feelings into words. She wished she could avoid the conversation but she couldn't back down now. Remembering that night over a year ago she answered, "I had a heart-to-heart with your Uncle." Waiting for her to continue he stood there silently and folded his arms over his chest. She concluded, "Let's just say he confirmed my own suspicions."

"And what were your own suspicions," he asked. His thoughts of his uncle were less than civil at the moment. I should have known! But how could she be so stupid as to listen to anything he said? Despite his anger, he was relieved to find out that she didn't leave because she didn't care for him. That fact alone could make all the rest forgivable.

"Listen John, we've both made mistakes in our lives. All we can do is live with them and move on." She knew herself well enough to know that if she hadn't already been frightened of a future with John, nothing anyone said to her could have stopped her from marrying him.

"That's not acceptable Marguerite. We were meant for each other."

"Now Roxton, don't tell me you buy into that 'soul mate theory'," she joked weakly in an attempt to break the awkwardness of the moment. "What we had was wonderful but it is in the past."

We'll just see about that my lovely little viper, he thought with a chuckle. He felt as though he could fly. Closing the gap between them, he brought her left hand and then the right to his mouth. Kissing each gently and looking deeply in her eyes he said, "You're shivering."

It took her a moment to realize he was right. She was too transfixed with the look in his eyes and the luscious feelings running through her at the touch of his lips on her hands to notice the deep snow she was standing in. Not trusting her weak knees to hold her up if she moved, she stayed riveted in place and stated the obvious, "It's cold.'

With a roguish grin he offered, "I can do something about that." Bringing his lips close enough to her ear to make her shudder he whispered seductively, "Body heat."

"Roxton, I—"

"Shh, not now Marguerite. Just let me have my moment," he ordered. He cupped her face in his large hands and stared into her luminous eyes. A gunshot effectively broke the mood and his hand was instantly reaching for his weapon.

"Marguerite," a voice shouted in German from the cover of the trees, "tell your friend to drop his gun or I'll be forced to kill both of you."

"Roxton, put it down now," she said in an alarmed voice. Knowing he was going to argue she added, "They have us surrounded."

He placed the revolver on the ground in front of him as a tall, lanky man materialized from the trees on their left side. Sensing Marguerite tense next to him he got the uncomfortable feeling that she knew the man who was approaching them.

"I see you haven't lost your touch my dear," the man said in heavily accented English. When he reached for her, Roxton stepped in between them. The man pointed his small gun at the hunter's chest and said, "Such bravado is uncalled for. Marguerite and I are old friends, aren't we dear?"

The way the word "friend" rolled of the German's tongue made Roxton's stomach turn. He knew that they had been much more than "friends". Placing a restraining hand on his arm, Marguerite gave the German her most charming smile. "Oh yes, General Dietrich and I go way back."

Shouting out orders to his men, Roxton and Marguerite's hands were bound. Dietrich ran a caressing finger down the side of her face. Seeing how the man tensed at his actions, he laughed and said, "You really have this one under your spell don't you?" Facing Roxton he continued, "Take it from me my foolish friend, don't believe a word this woman says to you. She's incapable of speaking anything but lies." With that he turned away. Roxton heard someone behind him seconds prior to when the stars started dancing before his eyes and he faded into blackness.

***** *****

"Roxton . . ."

His eyes strained to focus on the face floating above his. "Marguerite?"

"No, Roxton, it's me . . . Assai."

"Where's Marguerite?" He bolted upright and was rewarded with a wave of dizziness. He felt small but strong hands push him back down.

"They did not bring her here. Where is everyone else?"

"What do you mean?" Shaking his head, he tried to clear away the lingering fog and take in his surroundings. Understanding dawned on him and he explained, "Marguerite and I are the only ones to return."

Disappointment at not being able to see her other friends was quickly replaced with relief that they were out of harm's way. She cleaned the nasty gash on the back of his head and asked a young woman to get him some water.

"Assai, what's going on here?"

Deciding it was best to start at the beginning she took a deep breath and commenced with her story. "Our warriors had been gone a few days to find a suitable place to temporarily move the village. The dinosaurs had already moved past our area as a result of the large amount of hunters who came after you left," she stated, she noticed a moment of regret crossing his face and knew it was mirrored in her own features. "Only a few men stayed behind to protect the village so when the intruders came we couldn't put up much of a fight. They brought us here and left a small force behind with orders to bring our warriors when they returned."

"What do they want with your people though?"

"There is a creature that only inhabits these Whitelands. They had heard from the new explorers that our tribe had the best hunters and trackers so they need them to find these creatures. They say if our warriors do as they are told, we will all be free to go but I do not trust them." Pain and fear flooded her face as she finished, "Jarl left days ago to find help and he hasn't returned yet."

Placing a reassuring hand on her, he informed her, "Don't worry. He's alive and waiting on the north side of camp. Right now, we need to formulate a plan to free your people."

"We are ready to fight. I know they plan to kill us as soon as they have what they want."

"Assai, did they say anything about why they want these creatures?"

"They speak another language and I have tried to understand them but I haven't succeeded yet."

"What are these creatures?" Knowing how ridiculous it sounded but not being able to come up with a better explanation he asked, "Are they really made of snow?"

"Only the elders of the village have actually seen them. They are said to be highly intelligent and aggressive."

"Wonderful," he muttered as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Where the hell is Marguerite?

***** *****

"Really General Dietrich, you've outdone yourself," Marguerite said, making sure to keep her tone awestruck. The camp was not large but very well armed and his tent looked like a luxury hotel instead of a rustic shelter.

"To think if you had stayed with me this could all be yours," he said with a cool smile. His cold eyes cut through her and filled her with dread. Guess he still has hard feelings . . .

"Look, you and I both had our orders. It was a war and it was unfortunate we were on opposing sides," she said as she moved closer to him and ran her fingers lightly up his arm. "It doesn't have to ruin what we could have now."

"No, you ruined any chance of that when you betrayed me . . . disgraced me in front of my superiors and turned me over to my enemies to be imprisoned."

"Well, I suppose that's one way of interpreting the situation," she said with a nervous laugh. Her mind was working overtime on how she was going to get out of this alive. Her thoughts again went to Roxton. He had a horrid bump on his head and he was still unconscious when they were separated.

"I was a fool to trust you. Believe me, I've learned the error of my ways. It will not happen again," he threatened her.

"Dietrich, the war is over—"

"The war is not over . . . it is merely postponed," he said with a nasty smile.

"Fine, it's postponed. That doesn't explain what you're doing here. If there is a war pending, why aren't you in Europe defending your country?"

He slapped her hard. "Don't question my loyalty, Marguerite. It is my country that is the reason for my presence here."

Realizing that goading him was the only way to uncover the truth she continued her taunting, "Are you sure you're not just hiding away?"

She didn't flinch as he raised his hand to slap her again. Disturbed at her lack of fear, he dropped his arm. Instead, he pulled her close and groped her as he kissed her neck and murmured, "Once I get those creatures I will be returned to my former position and will once again be worthy of my country."

Being this close to him and feeling his slimy hands handling her, she couldn't keep the revulsion she was feeling from showing on her face. He laughed at her expression and said, "You didn't always feel that way my dear. But you have fresh blood now don't you? I wonder how you would like watching him being sliced into tiny pieces before your eyes?"

"Do whatever you want with him," she bluffed. "He means nothing to me."

"Somehow I just don't believe you," he said.

She shrugged carelessly and said, "That's not my problem. So you want the 'abominable snowmen'? I assume that since you're still in this hellhole, you haven't found them. Too bad you seem so intent on killing my traveling companion. He happens to know their exact location."

He stared at her trying to determine if she was speaking the truth. Before he could say anything she continued, "Might I suggest an exchange? You let us go and we'll take you to them."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Just think of the glory that will be yours when you return with those beasts . . . besides if it is a trick you haven't lost anything. It's not like you know where they are anyway. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain."

"For your sake, you better hope your friend can deliver what you promise." He called for the guard outside his tent and ordered the man to bring Roxton immediately.

After a few minutes, two burly soldiers dragged a woozy Roxton into the tent. They threw him to the floor and he quickly jumped up and moved towards Marguerite. "Are you okay?"

"A lot better now," she whispered in a voice so quiet that only Roxton could hear. She gave him a little smile and scanned his body for any injuries. His pupils were still dilated but he appeared to be faring well.

"How touching! Unfortunately this little reunion must be short lived. Marguerite has informed me you know the exact location of the creatures I'm seeking," Dietrich said.

"What creatures would those be?" The German's iron fist connected with Roxton's jaw and sent him to the floor once again.

"I don't have time for your stupidity. My men will accompany you to retrieve one of these beasts. You have one day. If you don't return by nightfall tonight, I will kill Marguerite."

Before Roxton could tell the man to go to hell, Marguerite said, "Let's not be hasty, I'm worth more to you alive than dead Dietrich."

"What worth could you possibly have for me now? You're soiled goods Marguerite," he insulted her even as his eyes appreciated her slim figure.

Giving an uneasy glance at Roxton, she continued, "Your superiors would love to have me as their prisoner. It would be a great morale booster for your army to know that one of the most infamous spies from the war was in their possession."

Marguerite kept herself from looking over at Roxton to see his reaction to her little confession. I have more important things to worry about now, she thought even as she wondered if things would change between them. That's assuming we even live through this.

Dietrich grabbed her chin painfully and gave her a quick hard kiss causing Roxton to go rigid. "We'll see." Looking at Roxton he said, "I wouldn't be late if I were you, Lord Roxton. I'm sure you don't want her death on your hands."

The hunter felt himself being pulled outside but not before he shot Marguerite a glance that promised he would be back for her.

***** *****

They had been walking for a little over three hours when they approached the cave the explorers camped in the previous night. Roxton had been busy trying to think of ways to escape but he knew he didn't stand any chance alone against ten heavily armed soldiers. The officer in charge ordered them to take a short break. The sun was shining brightly causing the snow-covered ground to sparkle like thousands of tiny diamonds.

Roxton had been leading them in ever widening circles in order to buy himself some time. However, it was approaching noon now and he knew he had to take them to the cave and get back to camp. Marguerite's life was in his hands and he had already risked too much praying for a solution to present itself. Settling next to the Lieutenant he asked, "So what does your commander want with these creatures? They seem like ill-tempered beasts to me . . ."

Sizing up their guide the officer finally decided there would be no harm in telling the man about the beasts. He'll be dead by tomorrow morning anyway, he reasoned. Smiling proudly he stated, "Our scientists have examined the body of one of these creatures that a patriot brought back to Germany with him after he came to this plateau looking for his fortune."

Seeing he had Roxton's undivided attention he continued to brag, "I understand this isn't your first time here so I'm sure you're familiar with the apemen who inhabit the lower elevations . . ."

"All too familiar," Roxton said with a charming smile. Keep him talking . . .

"Well, these 'abominable snowmen', as you call them, seem to be their 'cousins'."

"I don't understand . . . I thought these creatures were made of snow," he said with a perplexed look. If the soldier believed his was an ignorant fool, he would begin to treat him that way and Roxton knew he could use it to his advantage.

The German laughed at his comment. "How did we ever lose the war to a country that was home to such stupid people? These apemen have adapted quite nicely to their surroundings. They are completely covered with dark fur, which makes them easy to spot from miles away in this wintry landscape. In order to overcome this disadvantage, their fur actually traps a layer of snow between the individual hairs. It acts as insulation to keep the warm air trapped between their bodies and their fur and, more importantly, it makes them virtually impossible to detect."

"Amazing," Roxton said. I wish Challenger were around to hear this. Once again donning a confused expression he stated, "But what do you want with them?"

Rolling his eyes, the soldier continued, "What is the one enemy no man can overcome?"

Shaking his head to indicate he had no idea, Roxton shrugged. The German said, "The weather. Armies have frozen to death and starved in snowy fields for almost as long as wars have been fought. Even the great Napoleon's army was weakened by the harsh Russian winter."

"So you plan on training these creatures to fight for Germany?" Roxton truly was confused now. What could they possible be planning to do with the snowmen?

Sighing as he stood up, the Lieutenant explained, "We don't need the creature, just his hide."

Roxton almost laughed at the simplicity of the idea. These Germans were nothing but fur trappers in uniforms. He wasn't a scientist but he rather doubted the idea would ever work as well as they expected it to. However, it would act as excellent camouflage and serve as extra protection against weather conditions that could easily topple a military invasion. Suddenly the idea didn't seem so farfetched and Roxton knew he would have to find some way to stop them.

Off to the side of their resting-place, he heard a bird chirping. At first he didn't think anything of it until he realized that there was no way a parrot could possibility survive in this environment. Telling his captor that he had to relieve himself, he headed in the direction of the call. As soon as he was out of their line of sight he whispered, "Jarl?"

His friend quickly emerged from behind a nearby tree and two other Zanga warriors soon joined him. "I am glad you are alive my friend. When you did not arrive at our meeting place this morning I feared the worse. Where is Marguerite?"

"Still at the camp . . . along with Assai and the rest of your people."

"You saw Assai?" Jarl's face was covered with enthusiasm that made him look years younger.

"She's fine," he said as he moved closer to allow Jarl to cut the ropes that bound his hands.

"I hope you have a plan, Roxton."

"Me? I thought we decided you would do the planning," he joked. He looked back in the direction of his captors. Why can't anything ever be easy in this God forsaken place! Two armed guards were coming over to investigate what was taking him so long.

One of the other warriors stepped forward and handed him the revolver he had surrendered the night before along with his pack. Looking fondly at his weapon he smiled and said, "I think we're in business boys."

***** *****

"Where the hell is he?" The faint pink and purple hues of sunset were casting the camp in a soft golden light. If Marguerite hadn't been so busy alternating between praying for Roxton's safe return and cursing him for abandoning her, she might have noticed the beauty of the mountains at this time of day. As it was, she had spent the time since his departure tied to a pole at the opening of Dietrich's tent so she had already decided if she never saw this place again it would be too soon.

From her position she had a great view of the entire camp and had memorized the routines of the soldiers. Since she had only counted twenty men in the camp, she assumed ten of them had left with Roxton. The idea of John facing so many men alone and unarmed did not raise her comfort level. She knew he would move heaven and hell to save her but if he was already dead . . .

Stop it, she ordered herself as she once again felt panic try to set in. He'll keep himself alive! He has to . . . As much as she feared her own death, it had been much worse sitting around all day wondering if the only man she had ever loved was dead. Closing her eyes as the painful image of Roxton's body lying facedown in the snow flooded her mind, a few stray tears trailed down her cheeks.

"Marguerite . . ."

"Assai! What are you doing here?" The heiress's lovely face broke into a smile at the sight of the other woman.

"I am bringing you your dinner." Once the native woman was closer, she leaned over and softly whispered, "You must make a distraction when the sun has completely set."

Hope shimmered in her silvery-blue eyes as she asked, "Have you seen Roxton?"

Seeing the longing in the explorer's face, Assai regretfully replied, "No, the warriors only brought back that message. You must make a disruption on this end of camp and my people will do the same on the other end."

"Divide and conquer," Marguerite murmured. Surely Roxton must be alive . . . who else would be foolish enough to try to rescue all of us! Assai gave the woman an encouraging smile and walked away.

The next thirty minutes were the longest of Marguerite's life. Her emotions were erratic, ranging from despair to hope, from anger to fear. The last rays of the sun were slowly fading away behind the mountainside. Almost showtime, she though as she saw Dietrich approaching her.

"Seems your lover has failed," Dietrich said happily. "Don't worry, I'll give you the pleasure of watching him die before I kill you."

"It looks like you've won this time Dietrich," she said in a defeated voice.

"Such docility! It doesn't become you Marguerite," he answered with a sneer.

"I don't see much point in fighting the inevitable Dietrich. For all my faults, I've always been a realistic person." She had been thinking of how could start a commotion and suddenly an idea came to her. "I have some personal effects in my pack. If you truly mean to kill me, would you at least allow me—"

"Say no more . . . I remember how attached you were to your gems and jewelry," he said snidely. Shrugging, he added, "If you wish to die with the only things you've ever loved surrounding you, I will let you . . . for old time's sake."

Keeping her eyes downcast so he wouldn't see her triumphant expression, she thanked him. He dropped her pack at her feet and left to make the preparations for her execution.

As soon as he was out of sight, she started to rummage around in her pack. Disappointed, but not surprised, to find her knife and backup gun missing, she sighed loudly. Now what?

As she was pulling her hand out she felt something cut into the flesh and yelped in pain. Gingerly opening the bag, the small shard of her old mirror caught the last remaining rays of sunlight. Checking to make sure she was still unobserved, she began to cut through the rope tying her feet to the tent pole. People really should know by now to use chains instead of rope, she thought smugly.

As she cut through the final cord, she heard screaming at the other end and knew she had to hurry. When she saw three young soldiers run past the tent she grabbed the mirror like a knife and followed behind them silently. Sneaking up on the slowest one, she placed the sliver against his unprotected throat and called out, "Stop where you are or your friend is dead!"

The other two men slowly turned around to face the newest threat. Seeing that the prisoner had escaped they looked around helplessly for someone to tell them what to do.

"Put down your weapons," she ordered.

The soldier on the left immediately obeyed and dropped his rifle at his feet. The other one, however, took off running.

"Shit!" Keeping the shard at the soldier's throat she slowly made her way to the weapon laying a few feet away. Picking it up, she knocked the man on the side of his head with the butt and watched him fall silently to the ground. The obedient soldier observed the scene with wide eyes and turned to run only to stop as Marguerite warned, "I wouldn't if I were you." It was the last thing he heard before she tapped him roughly with the rifle and he blacked out.

She barely had time to congratulate herself when she saw nearly a dozen men making their way towards her. Knowing there was no way she could fight all of them off, she thought silently, Now would be a good time for you to play knight in shining armor Roxton!

***** *****

At that exact moment, Roxton was fighting his way through the battleground with the express intent of saving Marguerite. The Zanga villagers had this fight completely under control. The German's superior weapons were no match for the immense number of people fighting for their freedom. When over half the men left the battle for the other side of camp, Roxton knew Marguerite had done exactly as he had asked. Now all I have to do is get there before they do!

He pushed his exhausted body to run faster. After they had overpowered his entourage and left them tied up in the cave, they had intercepted the rest of the Zanga warriors on they way back from the hunt. They spent an hour making crude spears and knives, which the hunters then smuggled in when they reentered the camp.

Cutting through a row of tents, Roxton emerged behind Dietrich's dwelling. Stealthily moving around the perimeter, he let out the breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding when he saw Marguerite loading a rifle a few feet in front of him.

"Marguerite," he said in a hushed voice.

She spun around and pointed the rifle directly at his chest.

"Jesus, Marguerite, it's just me! Save the bullets for the Germans," he ordered as he ran to her and gathered her in his arms.

"It is about damn time Lord Roxton! I was almost killed," she complained as she fought back tears. Thank God, she kept chanting silently. Thank God he's alive!

"Now Marguerite, you know better than to think I would leave you here to be killed by the Germans. They have to take their number and wait their turn just like everyone else," he teased her with a lopsided grin.

Swatting him lightly on the chest she said, "Very funny. Now get me the hell out of here!"

Checking over her shoulder, he noticed the men had halted their march and appeared to be discussing what to do next. It was obvious some wanted to go back and help their fallen comrades on the other side of camp but the others knew that the woman was very important to the commander and wanted to follow her. It seemed that they finally decided that their friends were more significant and turned to join the battle raging on the other side of camp. Knowing they were out of danger for the moment he looked at her thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Marguerite, I—" He stopped, unsure of how to continue.

"You what?"

Not able to find the words to describe how he felt about the woman in front of him, he simply acted. The kiss was fevered at first. All the nervous energy coursing through them found in outlet once their lips melted together. But as the seconds stretched out, it slowed and became deeper. All the emotions he couldn't express in words were spelled out plainly in the most primitive language known to man. He knew at that moment that she felt as passionately about him as he did for her. Gazing lovingly down at her face, he smoothed her unruly curls back and smiled. "I love you," he whispered.

"John, I—" Her face contorted in pain and she dropped to her knees as her eyes met his in confusion.

"Marguerite!" It was then that he saw the knife protruding from her back.

"Sorry to interrupt but the bitch really did deserve it," Dietrich said with a harsh laugh.

Growling in anger, Roxton rushed the other man and pounded him repeatedly in the face and chest. When Dietrich managed to gain the upper position, he reached for his revolver. Fortunately, Roxton was quicker and grabbed it first. Pointing it up at the German's chest, he warned, "Don't tempt me, Dietrich."

Hauling the man upright, Roxton pushed him roughly into the wall. He heard Marguerite moan and was distracted long enough for Dietrich to slap the gun out of his hand. They both rushed for the weapon, fighting to reach it first. The General kicked Roxton viciously in the stomach causing the young Lord to double over in pain. He picked up the revolver and aimed it right between Roxton's eyes. "Goodbye Lord Roxton. Don't worry, Marguerite will be joining you soon!"

He surged to his feet even as he heard a shot ring out. He glanced down expecting to see a pool of blood spreading across his shirt when he heard General Dietrich drop to the ground with a thud.

"He always did talk to much," Marguerite said weakly before she passed out.

***** *****

Three weeks later . . .

"To think the creature really did exist all that time and we never saw it!" Challenger's eyes were glowing with excitement.

"Yes, it's too bad you couldn't bring back a live specimen John," Summerlee added.

"I had other matters to attend to," he said with a smile. He had almost lost Marguerite that night. Although the wound was not serious, she had lost a lot of blood and there were a few tense hours when he wasn't sure she would pull though.

"This is an incredible story Roxton," Malone gushed as he shuffled the Abigail from one arm to the other. Roxton noticed how totally at ease his young friend was with the movement . . . very different from the last time he saw him a few weeks ago. "Mythical creatures, German villains, action, adventure, romance . . ."

Shaking his head at his friend's description of his trip, he threatened jokingly, "Yes it is incredible and it better not end up on the front page of any newspaper!"

"Don't worry, no one would believe me even if I tried . . ." his friend joked back.

Looking at his watch, Summerlee exclaimed, "Goodness me! We better get going. Will you still be joining us for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Yes, nine o'clock sharp!"

***** *****

Roxton walked his friends out and called his car around to take them home. Closing the door behind him, he entered the front hall of his home and began to shed his clothes. As much as he loved to see his friends, he had wished them to the devil hundreds of times since the beginning of the evening.

Climbing the stairs he thought back on everything that had happened these past couple of weeks and an exhausted grin spread across his face. Opening the door to the master bedroom, he sat down on the edge of his king-size bed and pulled off the remainder of his clothing. Slipping silently between the crisp sheets, he thanked God once again for helping him survive long enough to find the happiness he so desperately craved.

A sleepy voice asked, "Are they finally gone?"

Laughing softly, he pulled her slender body next to his and nibbled gently on her ear. "Is that your way of telling me you missed me?"

"Not at all, just makes me wonder about the man I married if you can so easily desert your new wife just to be with the boys,"

My wife! The words still surprised him, as well as the fact that he had the woman of his dreams lying next to him. "I wasn't deserting you," he promised in a husky voice. "I was just giving you a chance to rest up." Although he was teasing her, there was a grain of truth in his statement. She still hadn't fully recovered and had retired to bed early that evening. She had completely missed seeing their visitors altogether.

Chuckling she said, "Maybe you're the one who needed to rest up."

Smirking he began to run one hand through her hair as his other hand caressed her back, carefully avoided the knife wound. "Was that a challenge Lady Roxton?"

"Maybe," she answered coyly as her hand started exploring his broad shoulders and chest. The rest of their words were lost as they fused into one another . . .

***** *****

The next morning . . .

"He said they would be here," Challenger said annoyed.

Exchanging a knowing smile with Veronica, Summerlee said, "George, I think it's safe to assume they aren't coming."

Smiling in spite of himself, he agreed, "I suppose you're right."

"I can't believe it really worked," Malone commented.

Ever the romantic, Summerlee commented, "Never underestimate the power of love."

"Er, yes . . ." Challenger said uncomfortably. Adding with a smile, "Or the machinations of a genius."

Malone and Veronica erupted into laughter as Summerlee threw his old friend a disapproving look.

***** *****

"We're going to be late," Marguerite said, struggling to get out of bed.

"Since when has that bothered you," Roxton teased as he grabbed her again and pulled her back down to his side.

"John, they were expecting us ten minutes ago," she reprimanded him as she fought to keep a chastising look on her face.

Pulling down the sheet she was using as a barrier between them, he gave her a roguish grin and said, "They'll get over it . . ."

THE END