A soft breeze offered little respite from the suffocating heat which had settled upon the plateau. Marguerite Krux lifted her chin and tried to make the most of the slight breath of wind; it was barely enough to move the stray tendrils of her long raven hair. "Why can't Challenger invent something useful," she moaned, "like a way to cool this bloody treehouse?" Professor George Challenger, leader of the expedition to the lost South American plateau, had invented numerous items to provide creature comforts during their prolonged stay in the primitive jungle. He was currently, as usual, busy at some new invention in his lab, and in all likelihood, had not even noticed the heat. Veronica had made herself scarce, having heard enough of a certain heiress' complaining. Finn kept popping in and out of the room like a bird in a cuckoo clock.
"We're all hot, Marguerite," Lord John Roxton replied from his seat across the room, "complaining about it won't help."
"I'm not complaining," she protested, "I'm just..."
The tall, handsome hunter gave her a knowing smile.
"Oh, all right," she admitted, pushing away from the balcony railing on which she'd been leaning, "It's not like I don't have cause. You're certainly not doing anything to help."
"What would you like me to do, Marguerite?" he asked exasperated. He loved the woman more than life itself, but she was vexing. "fan you?" he asked sarcastically.
Her eyes brightened momentarily at the picture that though brought to mind: Lord Roxton's tanned chest glistening with sweat, muscles rippling as he raised and lowered the large fan.... She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I don't think that would help." She walked to the table and picked up her glass. She closed her eyes and took a long drink of water.
Roxton's gaze followed down the curve of her throat and further, to the damp lavender blouse which clung delightfully to her curves. Her top button was undone, inviting thoughts which made the room suddenly much warmer.
She stuck her long, slender fingers into the glass and flicked a few drops of the cool liquid onto her face. Roxton watched mesmerised as one drop raced across her cheek, down the graceful curve of her neck, over her collar bone, and finally ducked beneath the lace that peeked out of her blouse.
Roxton jumped up and strode over to where Marguerite was just settling into a chair. "Up you come," he said grasping her hands.
"But I just sat down."
"And now, you're getting up," he replied, pulling her quickly to her feet. They stood only inches apart. "We're going swimming."
"I don't want to walk that far in this heat."
"Oh, come on, Marguerite," he coaxed, "it's not that far." He had not yet let go of her hands, and he had begun to rub them in a most distracting way. His smile was infectious, and she couldn't keep herself from returning it. "I promise we'll go slow. Besides," he added bending even closer, it will be well worth the walk. Refreshing swim..."
"Cool water..."
"Just the two of us," their lips were almost touching. He slid his fingers into the thick, dark hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head back as he forced her closer.
"Sounds lovely," her lips brushed his.
There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and Finn bounded into the room.
Roxton's head jerked up and Marguerite turned away. It had been two weeks since they'd been nearly buried alive in a cave; a cave-in which Roxton counted as most fortunate as it was there where Marguerite finally had admitted her love for him and accepted his. Since then, every time they started an intimate moment, someone interrupted.
"I'll pack," he whispered. She mimed back to him that she'd leave a note.
"What's going on?" Finn asked.
With a smile, Roxton left the room.
"It's too hot for much of anything," Marguerite replied, sounding bored.
"You people never have any fun," the blonde grumbled. "Guess I'll go check on Challenger. At least he's doing SOMETHING," with that, she trotted down to the lab.
"How can that girl have so much energy?" Marguerite wondered aloud. She shook her head and crossed to the table where she took up a piece of paper and jotted out a note which she left in a conspicuous spot, then she continued to the kitchen and, after filling a canteen, she took some food and placed it in a pack. She was just finishing as Roxton returned.
"All ready?" he asked.
"Did you grab my bathing costume?"
"What for?" he replied with a smirk, "you won't need it."
She feigned outrage, "John!"
"You don't want me to carry a lot of excess weight in this heat?"
"Excess...? We are going swimming?"
"Finally!" Finn exclaimed having come into the room unnoticed, "something to do! I'll go get Vee, she'll want to come too." With that, she turned and raced from the room.
"Looks like I'll be needing that bathing costume," Marguerite commented dryly.
Before the hunter could reply, Finn returned, dragging Veronica with her. The girl from the future was mid-sentence, "...great idea. I love swimming."
It took only one glance at Roxton and Marguerite for Veronica to realise that the couple would prefer this to not be a family outing. "I don't feel like swimming right now," she said.
The English Lord smiled defeatedly as he handed Marguerite her gun and picked up his rifle. Trying hard to keep the disappointment from his face, he said, "No, you really are welcome to join us."
Finn had already started down the stairs to get Challenger.
"Go," Veronica told them quietly.
With one foot in the elevator, Roxton hesitated.
Veronica shooed them with arm movements and repeated, "Go on!"
He needed no further encouragement. He stepped fully into the elevator and drew Marguerite in with him. She mouthed a quick "thank you" to Veronica before moving out of sight toward the jungle floor.
Veronica caught Finn before she'd had a chance to disturb the scientist. She took the younger girl back up to the main room explaining that she'd encouraged the couple to leave alone. "After all, this way we won't have to listen to Marguerite's constant complaints."
When Finn started to object, the jungle girl added, "I have a game," she started searching through a cupboard and came out with a board about one and a half feet square and a small box. "My father and I used to play it all the time." Her look grew wistful, "I haven't played it in years."
*****
Even though the swimming hole was close by, the walk there seemed interminable. The air was thick and only grudgingly allowed them passage. By the time they reached the swimming hole, Marguerite was exhausted. She plopped down on the nearest boulder, removed her gunbelt, and dragged her boots off. From almost the instant she thrust her hot, tired feet into the shimmering pool of cool water, she felt better.
Roxton placed his pack and rifle next to Marguerite's discarded equipment, then slipped his braces from his shoulders. He looked down at the lovely heiress; her head thrown back, eyes closed contentedly enjoying the cooler air here at the water's edge, and the feel of the water lapping at her ankles. She truly was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, and she was his: they'd committed themselves to each other that day in the druid cave. She'd begged him to never let go, but then, he'd promised that long before she'd ever asked.
He was undoing the buttons of his shirt as she looked up. She gazed openly at his bronzed chest; the granite hard muscles rippled as pulled the shirt off. She smiled almost shyly as she sat up straight and began work on her own buttons, holding his eyes all the while. She slipped the light blouse down her arms and laid it aside before starting on the camisole's fastenings. She was about to remove the soft lace, when something behind Roxton caught her eye. She pulled the garment close across her breast.
"Marguerite?" Roxton asked.
"Someone..., something is there."
Taking up his rifle, he headed into the thicket. She watched his tanned back until he was swallowed up by the jungle. Without her tall, handsome hunter at her side, she felt cold -- despite the heat. It seemed to be forever that she sat there alone, fretting over Roxton.
When the undergrowth began to move, she strained to see who, or what was headed her way. "Roxton?" she asked rather quietly. Receiving no answer, she grabbed her pistol and aimed it in the general direction of the movement.
"Whoa," Roxton said as he burst out of the dense jungle. Marguerite exhaled the breath she hadn't realised she was holding and with relief, lowered her weapon.
"Nothing out there," he reassured her. "No dinosaurs," his voice softened as he approached her, "no animals," he stopped beside her and lay his rifle down, "no people," he grasped her hands and coaxed her to her feet. His voice was near a whisper as he finished, "just us," The lacy camisole hit the ground as their lips met. Her lips parted, inviting his tongue's exploration while her hands ran languidly up and down his back. His mouth strayed to her neck, where he gently teased the fine cords with his teeth as he wandered steadily lower. His tongue traced her collar bone. At her sigh, he straightened and with a cocky smile asked in a deep gravely tone, "Any more phantom interruptions?"
Coyly, she drew her hands to his chest, and with a wicked smile, she pushed.
His arms flailed wildly as he tried to keep his balance. He reached for Marguerite, but she stepped back and he fell into the pool with a loud splash. She stood, arms folded across her breasts and laughed.
Roxton stood up sputtering, and with a purposeful gleam in his eyes started toward her, "time for you to join me."
"Oh," she responded, "I intend to have dry clothes after my swim." So saying, she stepped behind a bush, removed the rest of her clothing, and gracefully dove into the clear water.
She broke the surface and almost before she could get a breath, Roxton was there, holding her; kissing her as if his life were dependant upon her. Her arms went around him, and she pressed her naked body firmly against him. She rubbed her thigh against him teasingly.
The hunter moaned and turned his attention to her neck.. He knew well that spot just below her ear, the spot which made her melt. She clutched him more tightly, rubbing against his trousers insistently. His mouth returned to hers, his tongue thrust deeply tasting the sweetness within. Her senses exploded and she arched toward him. Then he was gone. He'd suddenly let go and ducked beneath the water.
When he didn't reappear, Marguerite called in an annoyed voice, "John?" and looked around. "John, where are you?" She tried to quell the rising panic as she yelled, "Roxton, this is not funny." A splash behind her, at the water's edge near her clothing caught her attention. She turned, but aside from a slight movement of the brush, she didn't see anything. She turned again yelling, "Roxton!" A much louder splash caused her to turn again. She felt an arm snake around her waist from behind. She twisted and settled into Roxton's arms with relief. "Don't do that again," she admonished even as her lips found his.
"Oh," he assured her as he returned the kiss, "I'm not going anywhere." His large hands eased down her back, moulding her body against his. She was immediately made aware of the reason for his temporary disappearance: his boots and breeches were now absent.
He lifted her and carried her to the water's edge where they day down half in and half out of the small lake. His lips quickly reclaimed hers which parted eagerly, his tongue rushed to tryst with hers. His mouth continued a lazy trail across her cheek to nibble briefly at her earlobe, then followed the graceful curve of her throat; his hands were busy exploring her other curves. She wiggled against him impatiently, increasing his already obvious need. The feverish heat of their bodies owed nothing to the plateau's temperature. Their bodies joined. They fit perfectly to each other, and moved with a perfect rhythm. At last, spent, they collapsed and lay wrapped in each others arms.
*****
Dressed in her skirt and camisole, raven hair hanging loose, Marguerite lay next to her hunter who had donned his still damp trousers. They talked, laughed, kissed, caressed, and dozed; enjoying their solitude.
So engrossed were they in each other, that they failed to notice the stealthy footsteps approaching.
A large, misshapen shadow fell over them. Before they could move, a machete swung through the air and sliced deeply into Lord Roxton's calf.
"No!" the heiress screamed and scrambled for her gun. She didn't get far. The heavily muscled man grabbed a fistful of her hair and threw her backwards to the ground.
Roxton looked up and shuddered inwardly at the creature standing between them. The entire right side of his face and bare chest had been badly burned, almost as if he'd been melted. No hair grew on that side of his head. A long, puckered scar ran from the left corner of his mouth, across his cheek, and disappeared under his straight black hair. Scars covered most of his chest, and his whole body seemed twisted somehow. His left arm hung at an odd angle.
"Keep your hands off of her," Roxton warned.
The somehow familiar creature raised the machete again. Marguerite must have found her gun, because he heard a shot before the blade swung down and everything went black.
*****
Veronica laughed as she captured another of Finn's pieces sending it back to the starting position. "I'd forgotten how much fun I used to have with this," she said.
Finn was about to answer, when they heard gun shots. "Roxton and Marguerite?" she asked.
"Shooting like that, they are definitely not hunting." she replied. "They must be in trouble."
Challenger, having also heard the gunfire, came charging up from his lab.
Within minutes, the three were armed, and in the elevator.
*****
Marguerite was thrown roughly to the ground. She struggled to sit up, the man-creature was so sure of himself, that he hadn't bothered to bind her. "Why aren't you dead?" she demanded.
He chuckled mirthlessly, "I am stronger than any who would destroy me."
She looked at him in disbelief. It had been months since she'd seen him, and he had been horribly disfigured since then, but there was no mistaking Arjax. The man had stowed away on their balloon as they had escaped from the hollow earth. After reaching the surface, he'd hijacked the balloon with Veronica still aboard. During the ensuing fight, sulphuric acid had been spilt, eating through the basket and plunging him to his death....or so they had supposed. Both the acid and the fall had left their marks, but somehow Arjax had survived. He sported a new crease on his side where Marguerite's first bullet had found it's mark. Two other rounds had been squeezed off wildly as Arjax had wrestled the pistol from her.
"You made a mistake leaving me alive," she hissed.
"You will not live for long," Arjax promised. "All who keep me from regaining my rightful place as warrior will die."
"And I'm the bait."
He smiled, but on his scarred face, it looked more like a grimace, "It is much easier if your friends come to me. And then, I will kill them all."
"Like you killed Roxton," she said in a flat voice.
Arjax smiled more broadly, pulling the puckered scar tight, "I have killed many since coming to this land above the sky, but his death I enjoyed most."
"You bastard," she screamed and charged him with the only weapon she had: her bare hands. She dug her fingers into his thick neck, but he swatted her away as if she was nothing more than a pesky insect. She hit the ground hard and momentarily dazed.
"I have killed an entire village," he gloated, "You are puny, you cannot hurt me."
"What village?" she asked, not that she wanted an answer; her hands were busy searching for any weapon to use against him, but she could find nothing. After seeing Roxton bleeding and dying, all she wanted was revenge.
A chilling laugh which sounded only vaguely human issued from Arjax, "Those fools. The village rescued me when your balloon fell apart, then tried to keep me from my destiny."
"I'll give you your destiny," Marguerite interrupted. She launched herself off the ground and flew at him again. He stopped her short with his machete, and she crumpled into the rocks.
*****
Roxton moaned as he sat up and cried out, "Marguerite!" He looked around, but both she and their attacker were gone. The cut on his forehead had bled heavily, but was already beginning to scab over. Thankfully, he'd seen the blow coming and jerked back fast enough that it hadn't done much damage. His leg, on the other hand, was cut nearly to the bone. He ripped a sleeve from his shirt, and tied it around the wound wincing at the sharp pain. He pulled on what was left of the shirt and shoved his uninjured leg into it's boot. He picked up his other boot, and took a deep breath. Teeth clenched, to keep from screaming at the intense pain, he rammed his foot into the boot. The sheen of sweat which covered his body had nothing to do with the heat. He grabbed up his rifle and prayed that his leg wouldn't fail him.
A rustling the bushes put him on alert. He pointed his rifle that direction. He hoped it was Marguerite, but kept his weapon levelled, finger on the trigger.
He was both relieved and disappointed when Veronica burst through the foliage with Challenger and Finn right behind. "Roxton," she exclaimed, "what happened?" She noted the state of Roxton's clothes and the blood drying on his forehead.
The hunter lowered his rifle and forced himself to stand. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he swayed slightly. His face went grey with pain.
"Better sit back down," Challenger tried to coax him.
"No time for that," the younger man replied.
"Where's Marguerite?" Veronica asked tentatively.
"We're going after her now."
"Not until I get a look at that cut on your head," Challenger insisted.
"I'm fine," Roxton lied.
But Challenger would not be put off. He set his friend down and quickly cleaned the wound which was long, but not deep. While he worked, he asked, "what happened?"
Roxton met his eyes, much more than mere physical pain evident in his eyes, "It was Arjax."
"But he's dead...?"
"Who's Arjax?" Finn asked and wasn't surprised when she received no answer.
"No," the hunter assured them, "he's misshapen, grotesque, but he is very much alive."
"And he took Marguerite, "Veronica supplied.
"Obviously, and left me for dead."
"Well," Challenger declared tying off the bandage, "that should do it."
"Meanwhile," Roxton complained, "we're wasting time." He stood again, being very careful to not let them see just how painful it was. If they knew about the gash in his leg, they would waste more time in trying to stop him from going after Marguerite, and he wouldn't allow that. He had to find her. Immediately, he found Arjax's trail -- no sign of Marguerite, but the gargoyle was most likely carrying her -- and he headed off.
He ran. They were right behind him. His breath ached in his chest; sweat ran in rivers down his face; muscles burned beneath his skin; his leg bled in a slow, warm gush with each step. But he couldn't stop. She was waiting and counting on him. Under those conditions she wouldn't last long. He couldn't let her down. Ignore the pain. Don't think. Just run. Survive.
His boot was filling with blood. If he didn't find them soon, he'd be of no help to Marguerite at all. Even now, he could barely hold his rifle.
Ahead, high above them on a rocky outcrop, stood Arjax. He made no attempt to hide, almost as if encouraging them to attack. Marguerite was nowhere to be seen.
Roxton levelled his gun. His hands shook, and he couldn't hold the rifle steady. The shot went wide.
Arjax laughed -- it was an unearthly sound.
Challenger raised his rifle, but Roxton was in the way, already jumping up the rocks, heedless of his injury. Anger gave him strength. Behind him, he could hear Challenger's voice, "Roxton, wait," but he couldn't stop. Taking his rifle barrel in hand, he whipped the stock across the scarred man's face. Arjax staggered backwards, but did not fall.
Before he could strike again, Roxton spied Marguerite lying between the boulders. She resembled a broken and discarded doll. Her once white camisole was stained red and her face was much too pale. Arjax arced his machete toward Roxton. "I've had quite enough of you," the hunter hissed as he slammed the stock of his rifle into the other man's nose. He didn't even glance to see what damage he'd wrought. He hurried over and gently lifted his lady from the rocks. Behind him, he could hear sounds of Veronica and Finn fighting with the man who would never be a warrior.
"Come on, Marguerite," he urged, "open those beautiful eyes." Her head lolled back. "Please," he pleaded, "you have to be all right." He kissed her colourless lips and clutched her body close, softly rocking her.
He looked over to see Challenger sitting in the dust, rubbing his chin. Finn was out cold, however one of her bolts protruded from Arjax's shoulder. He gently lifted Marguerite and took her to Challenger, "take care of her." Then he stood and limped toward the fight.
He watched Veronica go down. Arjax raised his machete.
"No!" the hunter called out, "It's me you want," he pulled a knife from his belt. In a voice full of hatred, he said, "come on, you bastard."
Arjax was breathing heavy, the others had taken their toll on him, but he was still happy to comply. He staggered some as he swung his machete threateningly and advanced upon Lord Roxton. In his arrogance, he could not acknowledge the possibility of his own defeat.
The downward swing of the machete was stopped by Roxton's knife. When the blades clanged together for the second time, the smaller knife twisted and clattered off across the rocks. Adrenaline alone was keeping Roxton upright, but not for much longer. He slipped, and the machete missed him by inches. Grabbing the seemingly indestructible man's arm, he struggled for control of the wicked blade. It was too hard to keep his footing on the uneven rocks, and Roxton stumbled again. Together, they tumbled fifteen feet to the ground. For a long while, neither man moved. Veronica made her way over to the edge and looked down. At first it appeared to be a double death. Then, Arjax rolled over. Roxton pushed harder, and the heavier man landed on his back -- the machete protruding from his chest.
The hunter struggled laboriously to his feet and somehow managed to crawl back to where Challenger was sitting with Marguerite. One look at the older man's face, and he didn't have to ask. "No," he said raggedly, "I won't accept it." Heedless of his injuries, he fell to his knees beside her. "She can't be dead," carefully, he moved her head into his lap.
Now, for the first time, Professor Challenger noticed blood creeping steadily higher up Roxton's pant leg. "Let me take a look at your leg."
"What difference does it make?" he replied, feeling defeated for the first time. But, he didn't protest when the scientist removed the blood sodden boot.
"This is more than I can care for here. We have to get you back to the tree house." He re-bandaged the wound and apologised for the pain caused by his ministrations. He knew that the pain was even worse as he replaced the boot, but Roxton didn't seem to notice any of it as he quietly cradled the body of his beloved. Placing a hand on the distraught hunter's shoulder, Challenger said, "there's nothing more we can do for her." The bleak look in Roxton's eyes wrenched at the older man's heart. "We'll all miss her," was all he could think to say.
Trying not to look at the body of the woman she'd come to think of as a sister, Veronica said urgently, "We've got to get moving. This blood will attract every predator for miles." After several moments, when Roxton still gave no sign of moving, she shook him saying, "NOW!" She understood his feelings, she'd lost so many people she cared about and she refused to lose one more.
Slowly, Roxton nodded. He got to his feet shakily and lifted Marguerite into his arms.
"We can't take her," Challenger tried to reason, "you are in no shape...."
"I won't leave her."
"John....."
"No, I won't go without her."
Knowing that they would never change his mind, Challenger relented. Roxton declined his offer to help carry her, and they began the trek back to the tree house.
Though all three of his companions offered repeatedly to help carry Marguerite's body, Roxton consistently refused. It was an easy trail, but the hunter was finding increasingly difficult. They had gotten as far as the swimming hole, when Challenger called for a rest. He watched Roxton's pallor with growing alarm.
Despite the unrelenting heat, Roxton was shivering with cold; his skin had a decidedly grey hue. The hunter dropped to his knees, then fell forward onto his precious burden.
Challenger rushed to his friend. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found a pulse, it was weak, but steady. He rolled the unconscious hunter onto his back and Veronica forced him to drink some water. At first, he just coughed and choked, but then he began to drink greedily.
He pushed the canteen away, and asked, "Marguerite?"
The scientist and the jungle girl exchanged a worried look. Challenger gently reminded him, "Marguerite is dead."
"No," Roxton sat up. He was shaky, but fully conscious. "No," he repeated, "she's alive. She spoke to me. She said 'don't let go'."
"You were dreaming," Veronica supplied, as she thought, "more likely hallucinating." She and Finn exchanged worried glances. Roxton would most likely recover from his physical wounds, but would he ever get over losing Marguerite?
"It was no dream; I was carrying her, and she spoke...." the hunter replied, doubts assailed him, but just as quickly he quashed them, "It couldn't have been a dream." He scooted over to where Marguerite lay and took her hand, "She's still warm."
"It's just the heat holding her body's temperature." The scientist explained. He didn't add that the persistent heat would cause her to decay that much faster, but right now that fact was beginning to worry him. If Roxton continued in this obsession, they might have to forcibly take her body from him. That could cause irreparable damage to their steadily dwindling family.
"Come on, Marguerite," Roxton begged, "show them. Give some sign that you're alive." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each of her finger tips. His breath caught in his throat as her fingers curled around his. "Challenger!" he called out.
Shaking his head, the scientist put his hand on the younger man's shoulder, "just a muscle spasm. It is not at all uncommon." He crouched down beside his friend and said gently, "John, let her go."
"No," Roxton responded quietly; then he nearly exploded, "No! You're wrong. Stop being so bloody logical and look at her!"
Hopelessly, Challenger did as he was bidden. Marguerite's hair lay loose, framing her pale face. There was no colour in her cheeks or lips, just a tinge of grey at the corners of her mouth. She was still beautiful even without the blush of life. Thankfully, her eyes were closed. He wasn't sure he could have maintained his composure if he'd had to look into her lifeless grey-blue eyes. He turned back to Roxton. He flinched at the anger and fear evident on his friend's face; knowing it was not directed at him made it no easier. There was nothing he could say to lessen the pain. Only one thing could ever do that, and being only human, he could not bring life back to Marguerite.
Out of the corner of his eye, Challenger thought he saw.... he stared unbelieving as Marguerite's eyelashes fluttered. "It's impossible," he marvelled in little more than a whisper.
"More muscle spasms?" Finn asked looking over his shoulder.
Challenger didn't answer. He leaned over and tried to find a pulse in Marguerite's throat. Nothing. His growing hope shattered. He hung his head in renewed defeat. Suddenly his head jerked up, "it couldn't be..." very faint, so faint that he'd missed it earlier and very nearly missed it again -- a beat. "I don't believe it, she is alive."
Roxton squeezed the small hand he still held, and smiled. Then, no longer having to fear that someone would take his beloved from him, he passed out.
*****
Roxton's injured leg slipped from the stool and slammed to the floor. He awoke with a loud yipe. Marguerite stirred, muttering incoherently. The only word he could make out was his own name. It had been several days since the fight with Arjax, and though the hunter had spent most of that time with Marguerite, he had yet to be there when she was awake. Their overly solicitous friends were constantly shooing him back to his own bed. They meant well, but had finally conceded the fact that he needed to be here, and now that both he and Marguerite were well on the way to complete recovery, there was no stopping him. He stood, hobbled over to her bed and sat on it's edge. "I'm here, Marguerite," he said as he gently brushed wayward tendrils of her dark hair from her face.
Her eyes opened slowly, and she smiled when she saw him.
"I'm sorry I woke you....." he started.
"Was that you?" she interrupted, "I thought a T-Rex was bellowing."
"Hope you're not disappointed."
She smiled ruefully and shook her head, "I promise never to complain about the heat again."
"No," he responded, only half jokingly, "It will be much harder to get rid of the others if you stop complaining. You do want to spend time alone with me?"
In answer, she reached up and touched his face -- just to be sure; Even though Challenger, Veronica and Finn had repeatedly reassured her that Roxton was alive and recovering, she had needed to actually see him to completely believe them. Her fingers curled around the back of his head and guided his lips to hers in a brief, contented kiss.
"If I'd known that this was the reception I'd get," he said with a cocky grin, "I'd have 'bellowed' days ago."
Gingerly, and with Roxton's help, she sat up and eased into his eager arms. Barely had their lips met when behind them, they heard and embarrassed, "Oh!"
Veronica had stopped short a few feet into the room. "I thought I heard..... it sounded like..... I mean..... " she fumbled over her words and finally ended, "is everything okay?"
Without releasing Marguerite from his grasp, Roxton replied, "I banged my leg, but it's fine now."
Completely flustered, Veronica backed up as she said, "If you don't need anything..... " She backed right into the door jam. With a surprised exclamation, and a nervous giggle, she turned and nearly ran from the room.
The couple exchanged an amused smile.
"Is your leg all right?" Marguerite asked.
"Challenger sewed it up," he reassured her. "Not as neat a job as any of yours, although," he teased, "his bedside manner isn't as strenuous."
"Fine," she retorted haughtily, "from now on Challenger can have ALL bedside duties."
His eyes twinkled, "Oh, I don't want you 'by' my bed -- but 'in' it."
"Lord Roxton!" she exclaimed in mock outrage as he kissed her again much more leisurely. His lips wended across her cheek and found the cord in her neck; he ran his tongue down it's length and was rewarded with a quiet sigh. Tilting her head back, she exposed more of her tender skin to his perusal.
He slipped the strap of her gown from her shoulders, his mouth quick to taste the sweet flesh. Pushing the filmy gown lower, he discovered the bandages which swathed her body from just under her breasts to past her waist. He pulled back and saw the angry welts that were just beginning to fade from across her chest.
Feeling suddenly vulnerable, Marguerite pushed away and pulled her gown back into place, covering her bruised skin. Before Roxton could speak, she quickly changed the subject.
"Challenger's been in here several times a day apologising for wanting to leave me behind."
Roxton's mind was still seeing the injuries she'd suffered. Arjax had died too easily. He wanted to ask what had happened, how she'd been hurt so badly; but he knew if he pushed, she'd pull away. Instead, he simply answered, "we would never have left you."
"They wanted to leave me for the raptors!" she protested.
"They did honestly believe you dead," he reminded her.
Quietly, she replied, "He told me that you never gave up."
Drawing her back into his arms, he kissed the top of her head, "I never will," he promised, "I'll never let you go."
"I'll hold you to that," she said and settled comfortably into his embrace.
end
"We're all hot, Marguerite," Lord John Roxton replied from his seat across the room, "complaining about it won't help."
"I'm not complaining," she protested, "I'm just..."
The tall, handsome hunter gave her a knowing smile.
"Oh, all right," she admitted, pushing away from the balcony railing on which she'd been leaning, "It's not like I don't have cause. You're certainly not doing anything to help."
"What would you like me to do, Marguerite?" he asked exasperated. He loved the woman more than life itself, but she was vexing. "fan you?" he asked sarcastically.
Her eyes brightened momentarily at the picture that though brought to mind: Lord Roxton's tanned chest glistening with sweat, muscles rippling as he raised and lowered the large fan.... She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I don't think that would help." She walked to the table and picked up her glass. She closed her eyes and took a long drink of water.
Roxton's gaze followed down the curve of her throat and further, to the damp lavender blouse which clung delightfully to her curves. Her top button was undone, inviting thoughts which made the room suddenly much warmer.
She stuck her long, slender fingers into the glass and flicked a few drops of the cool liquid onto her face. Roxton watched mesmerised as one drop raced across her cheek, down the graceful curve of her neck, over her collar bone, and finally ducked beneath the lace that peeked out of her blouse.
Roxton jumped up and strode over to where Marguerite was just settling into a chair. "Up you come," he said grasping her hands.
"But I just sat down."
"And now, you're getting up," he replied, pulling her quickly to her feet. They stood only inches apart. "We're going swimming."
"I don't want to walk that far in this heat."
"Oh, come on, Marguerite," he coaxed, "it's not that far." He had not yet let go of her hands, and he had begun to rub them in a most distracting way. His smile was infectious, and she couldn't keep herself from returning it. "I promise we'll go slow. Besides," he added bending even closer, it will be well worth the walk. Refreshing swim..."
"Cool water..."
"Just the two of us," their lips were almost touching. He slid his fingers into the thick, dark hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head back as he forced her closer.
"Sounds lovely," her lips brushed his.
There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and Finn bounded into the room.
Roxton's head jerked up and Marguerite turned away. It had been two weeks since they'd been nearly buried alive in a cave; a cave-in which Roxton counted as most fortunate as it was there where Marguerite finally had admitted her love for him and accepted his. Since then, every time they started an intimate moment, someone interrupted.
"I'll pack," he whispered. She mimed back to him that she'd leave a note.
"What's going on?" Finn asked.
With a smile, Roxton left the room.
"It's too hot for much of anything," Marguerite replied, sounding bored.
"You people never have any fun," the blonde grumbled. "Guess I'll go check on Challenger. At least he's doing SOMETHING," with that, she trotted down to the lab.
"How can that girl have so much energy?" Marguerite wondered aloud. She shook her head and crossed to the table where she took up a piece of paper and jotted out a note which she left in a conspicuous spot, then she continued to the kitchen and, after filling a canteen, she took some food and placed it in a pack. She was just finishing as Roxton returned.
"All ready?" he asked.
"Did you grab my bathing costume?"
"What for?" he replied with a smirk, "you won't need it."
She feigned outrage, "John!"
"You don't want me to carry a lot of excess weight in this heat?"
"Excess...? We are going swimming?"
"Finally!" Finn exclaimed having come into the room unnoticed, "something to do! I'll go get Vee, she'll want to come too." With that, she turned and raced from the room.
"Looks like I'll be needing that bathing costume," Marguerite commented dryly.
Before the hunter could reply, Finn returned, dragging Veronica with her. The girl from the future was mid-sentence, "...great idea. I love swimming."
It took only one glance at Roxton and Marguerite for Veronica to realise that the couple would prefer this to not be a family outing. "I don't feel like swimming right now," she said.
The English Lord smiled defeatedly as he handed Marguerite her gun and picked up his rifle. Trying hard to keep the disappointment from his face, he said, "No, you really are welcome to join us."
Finn had already started down the stairs to get Challenger.
"Go," Veronica told them quietly.
With one foot in the elevator, Roxton hesitated.
Veronica shooed them with arm movements and repeated, "Go on!"
He needed no further encouragement. He stepped fully into the elevator and drew Marguerite in with him. She mouthed a quick "thank you" to Veronica before moving out of sight toward the jungle floor.
Veronica caught Finn before she'd had a chance to disturb the scientist. She took the younger girl back up to the main room explaining that she'd encouraged the couple to leave alone. "After all, this way we won't have to listen to Marguerite's constant complaints."
When Finn started to object, the jungle girl added, "I have a game," she started searching through a cupboard and came out with a board about one and a half feet square and a small box. "My father and I used to play it all the time." Her look grew wistful, "I haven't played it in years."
*****
Even though the swimming hole was close by, the walk there seemed interminable. The air was thick and only grudgingly allowed them passage. By the time they reached the swimming hole, Marguerite was exhausted. She plopped down on the nearest boulder, removed her gunbelt, and dragged her boots off. From almost the instant she thrust her hot, tired feet into the shimmering pool of cool water, she felt better.
Roxton placed his pack and rifle next to Marguerite's discarded equipment, then slipped his braces from his shoulders. He looked down at the lovely heiress; her head thrown back, eyes closed contentedly enjoying the cooler air here at the water's edge, and the feel of the water lapping at her ankles. She truly was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, and she was his: they'd committed themselves to each other that day in the druid cave. She'd begged him to never let go, but then, he'd promised that long before she'd ever asked.
He was undoing the buttons of his shirt as she looked up. She gazed openly at his bronzed chest; the granite hard muscles rippled as pulled the shirt off. She smiled almost shyly as she sat up straight and began work on her own buttons, holding his eyes all the while. She slipped the light blouse down her arms and laid it aside before starting on the camisole's fastenings. She was about to remove the soft lace, when something behind Roxton caught her eye. She pulled the garment close across her breast.
"Marguerite?" Roxton asked.
"Someone..., something is there."
Taking up his rifle, he headed into the thicket. She watched his tanned back until he was swallowed up by the jungle. Without her tall, handsome hunter at her side, she felt cold -- despite the heat. It seemed to be forever that she sat there alone, fretting over Roxton.
When the undergrowth began to move, she strained to see who, or what was headed her way. "Roxton?" she asked rather quietly. Receiving no answer, she grabbed her pistol and aimed it in the general direction of the movement.
"Whoa," Roxton said as he burst out of the dense jungle. Marguerite exhaled the breath she hadn't realised she was holding and with relief, lowered her weapon.
"Nothing out there," he reassured her. "No dinosaurs," his voice softened as he approached her, "no animals," he stopped beside her and lay his rifle down, "no people," he grasped her hands and coaxed her to her feet. His voice was near a whisper as he finished, "just us," The lacy camisole hit the ground as their lips met. Her lips parted, inviting his tongue's exploration while her hands ran languidly up and down his back. His mouth strayed to her neck, where he gently teased the fine cords with his teeth as he wandered steadily lower. His tongue traced her collar bone. At her sigh, he straightened and with a cocky smile asked in a deep gravely tone, "Any more phantom interruptions?"
Coyly, she drew her hands to his chest, and with a wicked smile, she pushed.
His arms flailed wildly as he tried to keep his balance. He reached for Marguerite, but she stepped back and he fell into the pool with a loud splash. She stood, arms folded across her breasts and laughed.
Roxton stood up sputtering, and with a purposeful gleam in his eyes started toward her, "time for you to join me."
"Oh," she responded, "I intend to have dry clothes after my swim." So saying, she stepped behind a bush, removed the rest of her clothing, and gracefully dove into the clear water.
She broke the surface and almost before she could get a breath, Roxton was there, holding her; kissing her as if his life were dependant upon her. Her arms went around him, and she pressed her naked body firmly against him. She rubbed her thigh against him teasingly.
The hunter moaned and turned his attention to her neck.. He knew well that spot just below her ear, the spot which made her melt. She clutched him more tightly, rubbing against his trousers insistently. His mouth returned to hers, his tongue thrust deeply tasting the sweetness within. Her senses exploded and she arched toward him. Then he was gone. He'd suddenly let go and ducked beneath the water.
When he didn't reappear, Marguerite called in an annoyed voice, "John?" and looked around. "John, where are you?" She tried to quell the rising panic as she yelled, "Roxton, this is not funny." A splash behind her, at the water's edge near her clothing caught her attention. She turned, but aside from a slight movement of the brush, she didn't see anything. She turned again yelling, "Roxton!" A much louder splash caused her to turn again. She felt an arm snake around her waist from behind. She twisted and settled into Roxton's arms with relief. "Don't do that again," she admonished even as her lips found his.
"Oh," he assured her as he returned the kiss, "I'm not going anywhere." His large hands eased down her back, moulding her body against his. She was immediately made aware of the reason for his temporary disappearance: his boots and breeches were now absent.
He lifted her and carried her to the water's edge where they day down half in and half out of the small lake. His lips quickly reclaimed hers which parted eagerly, his tongue rushed to tryst with hers. His mouth continued a lazy trail across her cheek to nibble briefly at her earlobe, then followed the graceful curve of her throat; his hands were busy exploring her other curves. She wiggled against him impatiently, increasing his already obvious need. The feverish heat of their bodies owed nothing to the plateau's temperature. Their bodies joined. They fit perfectly to each other, and moved with a perfect rhythm. At last, spent, they collapsed and lay wrapped in each others arms.
*****
Dressed in her skirt and camisole, raven hair hanging loose, Marguerite lay next to her hunter who had donned his still damp trousers. They talked, laughed, kissed, caressed, and dozed; enjoying their solitude.
So engrossed were they in each other, that they failed to notice the stealthy footsteps approaching.
A large, misshapen shadow fell over them. Before they could move, a machete swung through the air and sliced deeply into Lord Roxton's calf.
"No!" the heiress screamed and scrambled for her gun. She didn't get far. The heavily muscled man grabbed a fistful of her hair and threw her backwards to the ground.
Roxton looked up and shuddered inwardly at the creature standing between them. The entire right side of his face and bare chest had been badly burned, almost as if he'd been melted. No hair grew on that side of his head. A long, puckered scar ran from the left corner of his mouth, across his cheek, and disappeared under his straight black hair. Scars covered most of his chest, and his whole body seemed twisted somehow. His left arm hung at an odd angle.
"Keep your hands off of her," Roxton warned.
The somehow familiar creature raised the machete again. Marguerite must have found her gun, because he heard a shot before the blade swung down and everything went black.
*****
Veronica laughed as she captured another of Finn's pieces sending it back to the starting position. "I'd forgotten how much fun I used to have with this," she said.
Finn was about to answer, when they heard gun shots. "Roxton and Marguerite?" she asked.
"Shooting like that, they are definitely not hunting." she replied. "They must be in trouble."
Challenger, having also heard the gunfire, came charging up from his lab.
Within minutes, the three were armed, and in the elevator.
*****
Marguerite was thrown roughly to the ground. She struggled to sit up, the man-creature was so sure of himself, that he hadn't bothered to bind her. "Why aren't you dead?" she demanded.
He chuckled mirthlessly, "I am stronger than any who would destroy me."
She looked at him in disbelief. It had been months since she'd seen him, and he had been horribly disfigured since then, but there was no mistaking Arjax. The man had stowed away on their balloon as they had escaped from the hollow earth. After reaching the surface, he'd hijacked the balloon with Veronica still aboard. During the ensuing fight, sulphuric acid had been spilt, eating through the basket and plunging him to his death....or so they had supposed. Both the acid and the fall had left their marks, but somehow Arjax had survived. He sported a new crease on his side where Marguerite's first bullet had found it's mark. Two other rounds had been squeezed off wildly as Arjax had wrestled the pistol from her.
"You made a mistake leaving me alive," she hissed.
"You will not live for long," Arjax promised. "All who keep me from regaining my rightful place as warrior will die."
"And I'm the bait."
He smiled, but on his scarred face, it looked more like a grimace, "It is much easier if your friends come to me. And then, I will kill them all."
"Like you killed Roxton," she said in a flat voice.
Arjax smiled more broadly, pulling the puckered scar tight, "I have killed many since coming to this land above the sky, but his death I enjoyed most."
"You bastard," she screamed and charged him with the only weapon she had: her bare hands. She dug her fingers into his thick neck, but he swatted her away as if she was nothing more than a pesky insect. She hit the ground hard and momentarily dazed.
"I have killed an entire village," he gloated, "You are puny, you cannot hurt me."
"What village?" she asked, not that she wanted an answer; her hands were busy searching for any weapon to use against him, but she could find nothing. After seeing Roxton bleeding and dying, all she wanted was revenge.
A chilling laugh which sounded only vaguely human issued from Arjax, "Those fools. The village rescued me when your balloon fell apart, then tried to keep me from my destiny."
"I'll give you your destiny," Marguerite interrupted. She launched herself off the ground and flew at him again. He stopped her short with his machete, and she crumpled into the rocks.
*****
Roxton moaned as he sat up and cried out, "Marguerite!" He looked around, but both she and their attacker were gone. The cut on his forehead had bled heavily, but was already beginning to scab over. Thankfully, he'd seen the blow coming and jerked back fast enough that it hadn't done much damage. His leg, on the other hand, was cut nearly to the bone. He ripped a sleeve from his shirt, and tied it around the wound wincing at the sharp pain. He pulled on what was left of the shirt and shoved his uninjured leg into it's boot. He picked up his other boot, and took a deep breath. Teeth clenched, to keep from screaming at the intense pain, he rammed his foot into the boot. The sheen of sweat which covered his body had nothing to do with the heat. He grabbed up his rifle and prayed that his leg wouldn't fail him.
A rustling the bushes put him on alert. He pointed his rifle that direction. He hoped it was Marguerite, but kept his weapon levelled, finger on the trigger.
He was both relieved and disappointed when Veronica burst through the foliage with Challenger and Finn right behind. "Roxton," she exclaimed, "what happened?" She noted the state of Roxton's clothes and the blood drying on his forehead.
The hunter lowered his rifle and forced himself to stand. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he swayed slightly. His face went grey with pain.
"Better sit back down," Challenger tried to coax him.
"No time for that," the younger man replied.
"Where's Marguerite?" Veronica asked tentatively.
"We're going after her now."
"Not until I get a look at that cut on your head," Challenger insisted.
"I'm fine," Roxton lied.
But Challenger would not be put off. He set his friend down and quickly cleaned the wound which was long, but not deep. While he worked, he asked, "what happened?"
Roxton met his eyes, much more than mere physical pain evident in his eyes, "It was Arjax."
"But he's dead...?"
"Who's Arjax?" Finn asked and wasn't surprised when she received no answer.
"No," the hunter assured them, "he's misshapen, grotesque, but he is very much alive."
"And he took Marguerite, "Veronica supplied.
"Obviously, and left me for dead."
"Well," Challenger declared tying off the bandage, "that should do it."
"Meanwhile," Roxton complained, "we're wasting time." He stood again, being very careful to not let them see just how painful it was. If they knew about the gash in his leg, they would waste more time in trying to stop him from going after Marguerite, and he wouldn't allow that. He had to find her. Immediately, he found Arjax's trail -- no sign of Marguerite, but the gargoyle was most likely carrying her -- and he headed off.
He ran. They were right behind him. His breath ached in his chest; sweat ran in rivers down his face; muscles burned beneath his skin; his leg bled in a slow, warm gush with each step. But he couldn't stop. She was waiting and counting on him. Under those conditions she wouldn't last long. He couldn't let her down. Ignore the pain. Don't think. Just run. Survive.
His boot was filling with blood. If he didn't find them soon, he'd be of no help to Marguerite at all. Even now, he could barely hold his rifle.
Ahead, high above them on a rocky outcrop, stood Arjax. He made no attempt to hide, almost as if encouraging them to attack. Marguerite was nowhere to be seen.
Roxton levelled his gun. His hands shook, and he couldn't hold the rifle steady. The shot went wide.
Arjax laughed -- it was an unearthly sound.
Challenger raised his rifle, but Roxton was in the way, already jumping up the rocks, heedless of his injury. Anger gave him strength. Behind him, he could hear Challenger's voice, "Roxton, wait," but he couldn't stop. Taking his rifle barrel in hand, he whipped the stock across the scarred man's face. Arjax staggered backwards, but did not fall.
Before he could strike again, Roxton spied Marguerite lying between the boulders. She resembled a broken and discarded doll. Her once white camisole was stained red and her face was much too pale. Arjax arced his machete toward Roxton. "I've had quite enough of you," the hunter hissed as he slammed the stock of his rifle into the other man's nose. He didn't even glance to see what damage he'd wrought. He hurried over and gently lifted his lady from the rocks. Behind him, he could hear sounds of Veronica and Finn fighting with the man who would never be a warrior.
"Come on, Marguerite," he urged, "open those beautiful eyes." Her head lolled back. "Please," he pleaded, "you have to be all right." He kissed her colourless lips and clutched her body close, softly rocking her.
He looked over to see Challenger sitting in the dust, rubbing his chin. Finn was out cold, however one of her bolts protruded from Arjax's shoulder. He gently lifted Marguerite and took her to Challenger, "take care of her." Then he stood and limped toward the fight.
He watched Veronica go down. Arjax raised his machete.
"No!" the hunter called out, "It's me you want," he pulled a knife from his belt. In a voice full of hatred, he said, "come on, you bastard."
Arjax was breathing heavy, the others had taken their toll on him, but he was still happy to comply. He staggered some as he swung his machete threateningly and advanced upon Lord Roxton. In his arrogance, he could not acknowledge the possibility of his own defeat.
The downward swing of the machete was stopped by Roxton's knife. When the blades clanged together for the second time, the smaller knife twisted and clattered off across the rocks. Adrenaline alone was keeping Roxton upright, but not for much longer. He slipped, and the machete missed him by inches. Grabbing the seemingly indestructible man's arm, he struggled for control of the wicked blade. It was too hard to keep his footing on the uneven rocks, and Roxton stumbled again. Together, they tumbled fifteen feet to the ground. For a long while, neither man moved. Veronica made her way over to the edge and looked down. At first it appeared to be a double death. Then, Arjax rolled over. Roxton pushed harder, and the heavier man landed on his back -- the machete protruding from his chest.
The hunter struggled laboriously to his feet and somehow managed to crawl back to where Challenger was sitting with Marguerite. One look at the older man's face, and he didn't have to ask. "No," he said raggedly, "I won't accept it." Heedless of his injuries, he fell to his knees beside her. "She can't be dead," carefully, he moved her head into his lap.
Now, for the first time, Professor Challenger noticed blood creeping steadily higher up Roxton's pant leg. "Let me take a look at your leg."
"What difference does it make?" he replied, feeling defeated for the first time. But, he didn't protest when the scientist removed the blood sodden boot.
"This is more than I can care for here. We have to get you back to the tree house." He re-bandaged the wound and apologised for the pain caused by his ministrations. He knew that the pain was even worse as he replaced the boot, but Roxton didn't seem to notice any of it as he quietly cradled the body of his beloved. Placing a hand on the distraught hunter's shoulder, Challenger said, "there's nothing more we can do for her." The bleak look in Roxton's eyes wrenched at the older man's heart. "We'll all miss her," was all he could think to say.
Trying not to look at the body of the woman she'd come to think of as a sister, Veronica said urgently, "We've got to get moving. This blood will attract every predator for miles." After several moments, when Roxton still gave no sign of moving, she shook him saying, "NOW!" She understood his feelings, she'd lost so many people she cared about and she refused to lose one more.
Slowly, Roxton nodded. He got to his feet shakily and lifted Marguerite into his arms.
"We can't take her," Challenger tried to reason, "you are in no shape...."
"I won't leave her."
"John....."
"No, I won't go without her."
Knowing that they would never change his mind, Challenger relented. Roxton declined his offer to help carry her, and they began the trek back to the tree house.
Though all three of his companions offered repeatedly to help carry Marguerite's body, Roxton consistently refused. It was an easy trail, but the hunter was finding increasingly difficult. They had gotten as far as the swimming hole, when Challenger called for a rest. He watched Roxton's pallor with growing alarm.
Despite the unrelenting heat, Roxton was shivering with cold; his skin had a decidedly grey hue. The hunter dropped to his knees, then fell forward onto his precious burden.
Challenger rushed to his friend. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found a pulse, it was weak, but steady. He rolled the unconscious hunter onto his back and Veronica forced him to drink some water. At first, he just coughed and choked, but then he began to drink greedily.
He pushed the canteen away, and asked, "Marguerite?"
The scientist and the jungle girl exchanged a worried look. Challenger gently reminded him, "Marguerite is dead."
"No," Roxton sat up. He was shaky, but fully conscious. "No," he repeated, "she's alive. She spoke to me. She said 'don't let go'."
"You were dreaming," Veronica supplied, as she thought, "more likely hallucinating." She and Finn exchanged worried glances. Roxton would most likely recover from his physical wounds, but would he ever get over losing Marguerite?
"It was no dream; I was carrying her, and she spoke...." the hunter replied, doubts assailed him, but just as quickly he quashed them, "It couldn't have been a dream." He scooted over to where Marguerite lay and took her hand, "She's still warm."
"It's just the heat holding her body's temperature." The scientist explained. He didn't add that the persistent heat would cause her to decay that much faster, but right now that fact was beginning to worry him. If Roxton continued in this obsession, they might have to forcibly take her body from him. That could cause irreparable damage to their steadily dwindling family.
"Come on, Marguerite," Roxton begged, "show them. Give some sign that you're alive." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each of her finger tips. His breath caught in his throat as her fingers curled around his. "Challenger!" he called out.
Shaking his head, the scientist put his hand on the younger man's shoulder, "just a muscle spasm. It is not at all uncommon." He crouched down beside his friend and said gently, "John, let her go."
"No," Roxton responded quietly; then he nearly exploded, "No! You're wrong. Stop being so bloody logical and look at her!"
Hopelessly, Challenger did as he was bidden. Marguerite's hair lay loose, framing her pale face. There was no colour in her cheeks or lips, just a tinge of grey at the corners of her mouth. She was still beautiful even without the blush of life. Thankfully, her eyes were closed. He wasn't sure he could have maintained his composure if he'd had to look into her lifeless grey-blue eyes. He turned back to Roxton. He flinched at the anger and fear evident on his friend's face; knowing it was not directed at him made it no easier. There was nothing he could say to lessen the pain. Only one thing could ever do that, and being only human, he could not bring life back to Marguerite.
Out of the corner of his eye, Challenger thought he saw.... he stared unbelieving as Marguerite's eyelashes fluttered. "It's impossible," he marvelled in little more than a whisper.
"More muscle spasms?" Finn asked looking over his shoulder.
Challenger didn't answer. He leaned over and tried to find a pulse in Marguerite's throat. Nothing. His growing hope shattered. He hung his head in renewed defeat. Suddenly his head jerked up, "it couldn't be..." very faint, so faint that he'd missed it earlier and very nearly missed it again -- a beat. "I don't believe it, she is alive."
Roxton squeezed the small hand he still held, and smiled. Then, no longer having to fear that someone would take his beloved from him, he passed out.
*****
Roxton's injured leg slipped from the stool and slammed to the floor. He awoke with a loud yipe. Marguerite stirred, muttering incoherently. The only word he could make out was his own name. It had been several days since the fight with Arjax, and though the hunter had spent most of that time with Marguerite, he had yet to be there when she was awake. Their overly solicitous friends were constantly shooing him back to his own bed. They meant well, but had finally conceded the fact that he needed to be here, and now that both he and Marguerite were well on the way to complete recovery, there was no stopping him. He stood, hobbled over to her bed and sat on it's edge. "I'm here, Marguerite," he said as he gently brushed wayward tendrils of her dark hair from her face.
Her eyes opened slowly, and she smiled when she saw him.
"I'm sorry I woke you....." he started.
"Was that you?" she interrupted, "I thought a T-Rex was bellowing."
"Hope you're not disappointed."
She smiled ruefully and shook her head, "I promise never to complain about the heat again."
"No," he responded, only half jokingly, "It will be much harder to get rid of the others if you stop complaining. You do want to spend time alone with me?"
In answer, she reached up and touched his face -- just to be sure; Even though Challenger, Veronica and Finn had repeatedly reassured her that Roxton was alive and recovering, she had needed to actually see him to completely believe them. Her fingers curled around the back of his head and guided his lips to hers in a brief, contented kiss.
"If I'd known that this was the reception I'd get," he said with a cocky grin, "I'd have 'bellowed' days ago."
Gingerly, and with Roxton's help, she sat up and eased into his eager arms. Barely had their lips met when behind them, they heard and embarrassed, "Oh!"
Veronica had stopped short a few feet into the room. "I thought I heard..... it sounded like..... I mean..... " she fumbled over her words and finally ended, "is everything okay?"
Without releasing Marguerite from his grasp, Roxton replied, "I banged my leg, but it's fine now."
Completely flustered, Veronica backed up as she said, "If you don't need anything..... " She backed right into the door jam. With a surprised exclamation, and a nervous giggle, she turned and nearly ran from the room.
The couple exchanged an amused smile.
"Is your leg all right?" Marguerite asked.
"Challenger sewed it up," he reassured her. "Not as neat a job as any of yours, although," he teased, "his bedside manner isn't as strenuous."
"Fine," she retorted haughtily, "from now on Challenger can have ALL bedside duties."
His eyes twinkled, "Oh, I don't want you 'by' my bed -- but 'in' it."
"Lord Roxton!" she exclaimed in mock outrage as he kissed her again much more leisurely. His lips wended across her cheek and found the cord in her neck; he ran his tongue down it's length and was rewarded with a quiet sigh. Tilting her head back, she exposed more of her tender skin to his perusal.
He slipped the strap of her gown from her shoulders, his mouth quick to taste the sweet flesh. Pushing the filmy gown lower, he discovered the bandages which swathed her body from just under her breasts to past her waist. He pulled back and saw the angry welts that were just beginning to fade from across her chest.
Feeling suddenly vulnerable, Marguerite pushed away and pulled her gown back into place, covering her bruised skin. Before Roxton could speak, she quickly changed the subject.
"Challenger's been in here several times a day apologising for wanting to leave me behind."
Roxton's mind was still seeing the injuries she'd suffered. Arjax had died too easily. He wanted to ask what had happened, how she'd been hurt so badly; but he knew if he pushed, she'd pull away. Instead, he simply answered, "we would never have left you."
"They wanted to leave me for the raptors!" she protested.
"They did honestly believe you dead," he reminded her.
Quietly, she replied, "He told me that you never gave up."
Drawing her back into his arms, he kissed the top of her head, "I never will," he promised, "I'll never let you go."
"I'll hold you to that," she said and settled comfortably into his embrace.
end