17
TLW FanFic Story
Midnight Confessions
By Eden
Description: During a violent storm Marguerite and Roxton share a few thoughts that lead to a surprising revelation.
Time Frame: Season 4, right after their return from Heart of the Storm.
Spoilers: Tapestry and Trapped
Disclaimer: I do not own The Lost World or its characters. This story is written for entertainment purposes only.
Rating: T
"In my midnight confessions, when you tell all the world that you love me…" sung by The Grassroots
Midnight Confessions
The wind was blowing through the treehouse with an increasingly menacing force. The sound of falling dishes and the sight of papers flying caused Marguerite and Roxton to hurry the task of securing down the sashes to protect them and the belongings inside the treehouse.
"Hold this Marguerite," shouted Roxton over the roar of the wind as he handed her the drawstring for the last sash.
Marguerite held the rope tautly as Roxton struggled to bring down the last sash as it flapped uncontrollably against the strength of the wind.
"I think I got it Marguerite. Now secure the rope on your side then pass it back to me," Roxton instructed.
Marguerite groaned as she struggled to tie the rope off securely. Once she accomplished the task she passed the remaining rope to Roxton. He quickly tied it off and secured his end.
Once the job was completed they looked at each other and breathed a sigh of relief. Having the sashes down provided them at least some protection against the ravages of the oncoming storm.
"Whew, I just hope it holds," said Marguerite as the wind caused the sash hanging next to her to billow out like a sail on a ship. "The wind is getting really strong." She pushed the sash back then reached up to run her fingers through her hair. Much to her dismay she found nothing but a windblown tangle of knots.
"Ohhhh! This is just great," she cried in an exasperated voice as she yanked at the stubborn knots, "It will take me over an hour to brush these knots out!" She then lamented, "I must look a mess."
Roxton looked over at her and smiled. He thought she never looked more beautiful.
Marguerite saw his smile and misread the meaning. "Really Roxton!" she said with a small pout on her face. "It's not funny!"
"I wasn't laughing at you Marguerite," said Roxton as his smile broadened. His voice deepened a bit as he continued, "I was thinking how beautiful you look with windblown hair." The warmth of his smile and the sincere look in his eye told her he was telling the truth.
"Well, that's better," said Marguerite somewhat appeased. She returned the smile then excused herself as she went to her bedroom to collect her brush.
Roxton was busy picking up the last of the displaced treehouse items when Marguerite came back into the great room a few minutes later brushing her hair. Despite her earlier complaints she already had most of the knots out.
Roxton was returning a couple of books to the desk when he heard her enter the room. He turned and started to say, "Well, it looks like everything is back in it proper pla…" But as Marguerite came into full view he suddenly stopped to gaze upon her. The sight of her standing in the flickering candlelight carefully brushing her hair was momentarily mesmerizing. He was about to comment again on her beauty when the spell was abruptly broken by the ominous sounds of distant thunder rumbling through the jungle and of a steady rain starting to beat wildly against the treehouse walls and roof.
"I think this storm is going to get a lot worse before it gets better," sighed Roxton as he, with great difficulty, took his eyes off Marguerite to look around the treehouse to make sure everything was as secure as possible.
"That's just great too." Marguerite shook her head and put the brush down. She never liked storms. They didn't really frighten her, not too much any way. But they did make her nervous. Storms were too unpredictable and uncontrollable, especially the ones here in this God-forsaken jungle. And considering all they had been through the past few weeks, she'd be very glad when this one was be over.
"Do you think the others will be okay?" asked a concerned Marguerite as she looked up at Roxton with widened eyes.
"Well, they weren't due back till tomorrow anyway," contemplated Roxton. He shared her concern for their fellow treehouse companions. "I'm sure they found shelter in a cave. Veronica is very familiar with the area they were all going to," he said in a reassuring voice.
Marguerite shook her head in acknowledgment then shivered slightly. A damp chill was beginning to permeate her clothing. She rubbed her arms and asked, "Is it me or it getting colder in here?"
"Definitely getting a bit chilly," Roxton answered. He then looked at her with a twinkle in his eye and said, "I would be glad to volunteer to keep you warm."
Marguerite smiled. The man was relentless. However, as much as she hated to admit it, she did enjoy this flirtatious banter with Roxton. But she wasn't about to let him win this round, at least not yet.
"I may keep that in mind as a very last resort Lord Roxton," she said with a teasing yet sweet smile. "For now I was thinking you could throw a few more logs on the fire while I make us some hot tea."
Before Roxton could answer, Marguerite turned toward the kitchen. Just then the blinding brightness from a lightening streak fully illuminated the treehouse and seized their attention. It was quickly followed by a burst of thunder so loud and forceful that they could feel it reverberate through the treehouse.
With large eyes Marguerite quickly looked back at Roxton. For a fleeting moment Roxton thought he saw fear in them, but just as quickly she hid it.
Marguerite took one step closer to Roxton. In a slightly unsteady voice that she unsuccessfully tried to mask she exclaimed, "Boy, that was loud, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it's going to be bad one," said Roxton quietly as he walked over to complete the distance between him and Marguerite. He was concerned about her but knew better than to ask her if she was frightened by the storm. He simply said, "It's a good thing Veronica's father built the treehouse as sturdy as he did. The construction and engineering are extremely impressive. I believe the treehouse could even withstand a strong hurricane."
Marguerite looked at him and smiled, somewhat comforted by his reassuring words. However, Roxton thought he could still see a slight tenseness in her face.
"Marguerite, why don't you sit down? I'll throw another log on the fire and get us the tea. There is a kettle of water already heated up over the fire," suggested Roxton.
"Thank you John, that would be nice," Marguerite replied gratefully.
Marguerite watched in silence as Roxton prepared the tea. The sound of the raging wind and torrential rainfall outside was so loud she could barely hear anything else and thus only served to add to her growing uneasiness.
Just as Roxton handed her the teacup there was another burst of lightening followed by a long eruption of thunder. The sound was so loud, and so deafening, that Marguerite swore she would never hear again. Again the treehouse seemed to shake from its very foundation. She thought it sounded like the earth was being split in two and getting ready to swallow them up.
Roxton noticed the tea cup shake in Marguerite's hand before she could place it firmly on the table. She also seemed to have paled somewhat.
Before he could stop himself Roxton asked, "Marguerite, does the storm frighten you?"
She looked down at her teacup and quickly answered, "Of course not John. Who would be afraid of a silly little storm?"
Roxton knew her well enough by now. While Marguerite's words spoke of no fear, her eyes said the opposite. He could see this clearly as he closely watched her.
Marguerite saw his intense scrutiny of her but she also saw the concern that accompanied it. She shrugged her shoulders, took a sip of tea and casually said, "I just never liked storms."
Roxton quietly sat down opposite her. He never took his eyes off of hers.
"Really Roxton, I'm fine. Please stop staring at me!" said a now somewhat annoyed Marguerite.
Roxton sighed and looked down at his teacup. It frustrated him that Marguerite still hesitated to share her feelings and concerns with him. However, since she wasn't ready to let him comfort her just yet, he decided the best course of action would be to distract her. He had to admit he wouldn't mind a little distraction either. The storm was a bit unsettling. He decided a bit of light conversation might be in order.
So in an effort to take their minds off the raging storm outside, Roxton engaged Marguerite in a friendly chat as they sipped tea. For more than an hour they discussed treehouse chores, debated Challenger's latest invention and disagreed about the location for a new clothesline. They laughed, they argued, but most importantly they were distracted from the storm.
After some time, the storm finally seemed to be settling down. Marguerite announced she was tired and going to bed. Roxton politely stood up as Marguerite rose. As she reached for the teacups Roxton said, "Don't bother Marguerite, I'll take care of it. You look exhausted. Just go on to bed."
Again Marguerite smiled her gratitude then headed off to her bedroom.
Roxton was cleaning the teacups when he heard Marguerite yell from her bedroom. He nearly broke the delicate china cup in his rush to set it down. He raced to Marguerite's room. Roxton's eyes first went to Marguerite. She was standing next to her bed apparently safe and unharmed. She was staring at the bed. His eyes followed hers and he realized the reason she was so upset. Above her bed a leak in the roof had formed. There was a small but steady drip of water from the roof onto her mattress. While it was a small leak, it obviously had been there for at least a few hours and her bedding was now soaked through.
"This is just great!" cried Marguerite as she threw her arms up in frustration.
Roxton quietly reached up and grabbed a large bowl off the shelf. He placed it under the drip. "It's going to take several hours on a hot day before this bedding will dry out," he commented.
"Thanks for stating the obvious Roxton. But that won't do me a lot of good now. Where am I going to sleep tonight?" She was now standing with her hands on her hips shaking her head.
"You could sleep in Veronica's room," suggested Roxton. However, in truth, that was not his first choice. Sharing his bed with Marguerite was a very enticing idea.
"Veronica's bed is very uncomfortable. Sleeping on her mattress is like sleeping on a bed of rocks. And," she put her one hand up dismissively, "the others bedding is no better." Marguerite sighed and rolled her eyes. "Great, I guess I'll have to sleep on the couch. I probably won't get any rest at all."
"Marguerite, why don't you sleep in my bed?" offered Roxton.
She turned and eyed him carefully. "That is very generous of you Roxton. Where do you intend to sleep?" queried a guarded Marguerite as she carefully folded her arms in front of her.
Roxton expected this. Even with the intimacy they had shared in the cave, he felt at times she would pull away from him. He knew she didn't regret what happened, but he realized she needed time to sort everything out. She still had those protective walls around her heart that caused her to retreat from confronting her emotions and from any situation that might lead to the same intimacy they had previously shared.
Roxton crossed his arms in front of his chest and watched her closely. "Well I was thinking we could share the bed," he said with a cocky smile. "You know, body heat and all." He felt he had to at least try.
Marguerite lifted a disapproving eyebrow. "You presume too much Lord Roxton."
Roxton sighed and threw a quick glance downward. He knew he couldn't push her on this.
Roxton looked up. "I will gladly sleep on the couch Marguerite," he politely but reluctantly offered.
Marguerite gave him a warm smile of gratitude. "Thank you John," she said softly with a measured degree of both relief and regret in her voice.
"Let me grab a few extra blankets for us. I have a feeling it is going to be a long, cold night," he said with a slight edge to his voice.
Marguerite frowned as Roxton left the room. She didn't want to anger him, especially after he had been so concerned and caring this evening. She shook her head. She was in a quandary about her emotions and uncertain where recent events would take her and Roxton from here. She just wasn't ready, or was it scared, to make any decisions to move ahead just yet.
After Roxton disappeared down the stairs to gather the blankets, Marguerite pushed her conflicting thoughts aside. She quickly changed into her nightgown then hurried to Roxton's room and settled in under the covers. Roxton came in a few minutes later carrying only one blanket.
"There's just this one blanket Marguerite. There is a leak above the shelf where they were stored. This is the only dry one I could find. It should keep you warm enough," he said as he gave Marguerite the only remaining blanket.
"Thank you John," she said sincerely. She realized he was sacrificing his own comfort for hers, even after she had pushed him away. The man's kindness and selflessness never ceased to amaze her.
"Goodnight Marguerite," he replied in a quiet yet tender voice.
As Roxton turned to leave the room, the storm returned with a vengeance. There was a cascade of blinding lightening streaks followed by a loud and violent volley of thunder that lasted over a full minute. There was a sound of a tree falling somewhere nearby in the jungle. Then a powerful gust of wind hit the treehouse. It shook the sashes and created a sound similar to a locomotive. It sounded as if the roof of the treehouse was about to be ripped off.
Without realizing what she was doing, Marguerite leaped out of the bed and ran to Roxton.
"It sounds like the world is coming to an end out there," said a nervous Marguerite. She was trying to sound calm and composed, but her voice could not fully disguise the anxiety she was feeling.
Roxton gathered her in a tight embrace. Just being in his arms Marguerite felt safe and secure again.
Roxton felt a slight tremor from her before she relaxed in his arms. He ran his fingers through her hair and began to gently kiss her neck just below her ear.
Marguerite suddenly pulled away. Her emotional defensives were back up.
"Sorry John. I'll be all right now. I don't know what got into me," she quickly said. She was trying to put on a brave front but it seemed her emotions were in as much turmoil as the weather outside.
At that moment another round of deafening thunder and blinding lightening hit. The entire treehouse trembled, causing Marguerite to cringe.
"Are you sure you're alright Marguerite?" Roxton asked gently as he placed a reassuring hand underneath her chin. He slowly lifted her head so they were looking into each other's eyes.
Marguerite answered him with a look of uncertainty.
"I could stay a while," Roxton quietly offered. Roxton was doing his best to appear calm and unconcerned, but he was really quite worried about the storm. It was turning out to be a much more violent and dangerous storm than he had anticipated. He didn't want to leave Marguerite alone.
Marguerite looked at Roxton as she weighed his offer. She looked at him, then at the bed and then back to him.
Roxton read her mind. "I could just sit in the chair for a while," he suggested with just a hint of regret in his voice.
"Thank you John." Marguerite smiled gratefully.
Marguerite climbed back into bed and settled under the warm covers. Roxton sat in the hard chair and tried without success to get comfortable and stay warm.
A few minutes later Marguerite noticed Roxton shifting uncomfortably in the chair. He was also rubbing his arms in a futile effort to stay warm. She felt safe just having him near and she didn't want him to leave, but she knew it wasn't fair to have him sit there and be so cold and uncomfortable. She was chewing on her lower lip trying to make a decision when another round of violent thunder and lightening began. The thunder rumbled through the treehouse, followed by the sound of a tree being ripped apart. Then came the sound of the tree crashing down right outside the treehouse, and for a second, the entire treehouse lurched.
"Oh my God," whispered a visibly shaken Marguerite as she sat up in bed. "Something's hit the treehouse." She looked over at Roxton only to find he was already up and racing out the bedroom door.
Roxton was only gone a few minutes but it seemed like an eternity to Marguerite. When he returned to the bedroom he was looking calm but grim.
"That was close Marguerite," he explained. "The lightening hit a large tree right next to the treehouse. It split it in two. A large part of it hit one of the supporting limbs of the treehouse. From what I could see I think the treehouse is okay but an entire section of the electric fence is gone. It will probably take several days to repair."
She looked down and shook her head. "Great. Could this night get any better?" she muttered.
"Let's hope that is the worse of it. How about we try to get some rest?" With those words Roxton looked from the bed to the chair and silently sighed. The expression on his face told her he wasn't looking forward to spending an uncomfortable night in the chair. He also looked cold as he unsuccessfully tried to suppress a shiver.
Marguerite made her decision. "Roxton," she said trying to make her voice as impassive as possible, "Do you want to lie in the bed next to me? I mean that chair is so uncomfortable and you look quite cold. After all I can't have you getting sick when there will be so much repair work to be done around the treehouse." As Roxton looked up with a hopeful expression on his face she quickly added, "Just for a little while. Only till the storm dies down."
"You're sure?" Roxton was pleasantly surprised by the offer.
"I expect you to be a perfect gentleman!" Marguerite warned.
"I always am." Roxton now had a large boyish grin on his face.
The incredulous look Marguerite gave him made Roxton chuckle.
"Alright," he reluctantly conceded, "There may have been a time or two…"
"Only a time or two?" teased Marguerite as she started to laugh too.
With some of the tension gone, Roxton sat on the edge of the bed and started to remove his pants.
"Roxton!" cried Marguerite. She sounded quite taken aback by his actions.
"Marguerite, my clothes are filthy and damp," Roxton explained. "I don't think you want me next to you while wearing them. I have my long johns on and I'll keep them on. I promise I will be a perfect gentleman."
"Alright," agreed Marguerite apprehensively.
As he slipped out of his pants and shirt he noticed Marguerite had turned away. He almost laughed out loud as the entire situation seemed so absurd to him. They had been as close as a man and woman could be in that cave. But he also knew that while they had been together physically, they still had a lot of issues and emotions to deal with before their physical relationship could easily continue. He wanted her to trust him, without reservations, with her heart as well as her body. He knew he couldn't push her before she was ready. He knew he would need to be patient. Still, it could be damn difficult at times. Especially at moments like this when all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and make passionate love to her.
With a silent sigh he quickly shed the last of his outer clothing then carefully slipped under the blankets and next to Marguerite.
Roxton and Marguerite lay stiffly side-by-side and shoulder-to-shoulder on the single bed. Neither one of them was very comfortable.
"Marguerite," said Roxton as he broke the awkward silence. "If we don't shift our positions a bit, one of us will be on the floor."
With that Roxton lifted his arm up and with an unspoken invitation asked Marguerite to rest her head on his shoulder. Marguerite hesitated for only a brief moment then with a smile on her face, turned on her side and snuggled up to Roxton. She rested her head in the crook of his shoulder. She draped her arm across his chest as he gently pulled her closer with the arm he had wrapped around her.
"Yes, much better," he said with a satisfied grin.
They lay together quietly. Marguerite casually placed her one leg over his and it was now resting intimately on his upper thigh. The feel of her soft, warm skin against him made Roxton acutely aware she had on only a thin nightgown. When she began to idly play with one of the buttons on his longjohns, he almost groaned in despair. He sorely regretted his promise to be a gentleman.
Roxton knew that he had to get control of the situation before he lost control.
So in an effort to relax them both, Roxton decided a little more conversation was in order.
"This storm reminds me of when I was a young boy, playing with my brother at Avebury," said Roxton as he stared at the treehouse ceiling.
"What?" asked Marguerite, a bit startled by his sudden statement. "How does this storm remind you of something like that?"
"When my brother and I were just young lads he used to take a rather fiendish delight in trying to scare me," Roxton explained.
"Really? He could easily scare you?" Marguerite asked with an intrigued grin on her face.
"I said try Marguerite. I was usually able to turn the tables and give him the fright." Roxton smiled as he recalled those fond memories.
Marguerite saw the content look on his face. She reflected on this for a moment then said, "It's nice that you and your brother got along so well. Most families I have known I found the opposite to be true."
"My brother and I did practically everything together until…," said Roxton. His voice drifted off and his expression suddenly saddened.
Marguerite saw the pain and the look of regret on his face. She didn't want him to dwell on the hunting accident that had so tragically killed his brother. She tried to refocus him to happier times.
"Tell me about some of the other games you and your brother played together when you were younger," Marguerite asked soothingly.
Roxton thought for a minute and then brightened. "Well one particular game we enjoyed playing was pirates."
"Pirates?" asked Marguerite. She smiled. She immediately thought of the time he had told her about his ancestor the pirate, or privateer as he insisted, Captain John Roxton.
"Yes," explained Roxton with boyish delight. "We were really quite the pair. We would find these long sticks and pretend they were swords. We would have quite a battle from time to time with some neighbor friends. My brother and I always won, though usually we would all go home with quite a few cuts and bruises."
"And this was fun?" asked a bemused Marguerite.
"Oh course! We would pretend we had to rescue the fair princess who was being held captive by our enemies. My brother and I would compete to see who could rescue her first. I always won," said Roxton proudly.
"And just who was this princess?" asked a curious Marguerite.
Roxton chuckled. "Usually just an old broom we put a scarf on."
Marguerite laughed. "Your beautiful princess was an old broom? That's very ingenious Roxton. Cuts down on the competition huh?"
Marguerite and Roxton both laughed.
"I was just a young lad," said Roxton in defense as he feigned being offended.
"Well, besides rescuing broom princesses, what else did you and your pirate brother do?" asked Marguerite.
"We would sometimes play on the standing stones near Avebury pretending they were great ships coming to do battle with us."
Marguerite smiled as she thought about a young John Roxton valiantly doing battle with the stone masses.
She chuckled as she poked him in the ribs with her finger and said, "You should have pretended they were dinosaurs. That would have come in handy for where you are now."
Roxton returned the laugh. He took her hand and gently kissed it. "You are absolutely right my dear," he said warmly. After a quiet moment he decided to risk a question about her childhood.
"Marguerite, how old were you when you and your family lived near Avebury?"
"I was only about seven or eight. We only lived there a little over a year before we moved," Marguerite said flatly.
"What kind of games did you play with your friends?" he ventured.
Marguerite stiffened. "I didn't have any friends when I was a young girl Roxton."
A part of Roxton knew he shouldn't press her on this personal issue, but he felt he had to respond. "Marguerite, I can't believe that. You must have had some friends you played with?"
"No I didn't Roxton." She was annoyed and her voice terse. "My family moved around quite often when I was young girl. We never lived for more than a year or two in one place. I learned at a very early age not to make friends with anyone. It saved me… the bother of having to say goodbye later."
Roxton looked down at her. "She probably means it saved her the pain of saying goodbye later," he thought sadly. It was another clue about the childhood she once told him she never had.
"I didn't mean to bring up bad memories Marguerite," Roxton said apologetically.
"You didn't. And I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me," Marguerite spat out a bit more harshly then she intended.
"Of course not," was Roxton's simple response as he looked away. He regretted he asked. He didn't want to push her away with prying questions.
Marguerite looked up. She saw the wounded look in his eyes and felt bad. They had been having a most delightful conversation. She didn't want it to end with hurt feelings.
She closed her eyes for a moment in an effort to make another decision. "Of course the time I lived near Avebury was one of the happiest times I remember," she offered.
"Really?" asked Roxton as he looked back to her and lifted a curious eyebrow.
"I used to sneak away from home as often as I could and go by myself to the standing stones and fairy rings. I would dance or twirl or sometimes just lie there and daydream." Her voice became a lot quieter and more serious. "I somehow felt at peace there, as if nothing could hurt me."
Roxton thought for a moment about her statement and the possibility of her being related to a Druid priestess. "Was this another strange coincidence or a connection?" he wondered.
"What did you daydream about?" asked a curious Roxton as he watched her intently to try to gauge her reaction.
Marguerite sighed and answered with a bit of trepidation. "Just silly things. You would probably laugh."
"I promise I won't laugh. Tell me about your daydreams Marguerite." Roxton held her a bit closer. "Trust me," he silently pleaded.
After a few moments of hesitation she decided to tell him.
"I used to dream I was a beautiful grand Lady of the Court. I was locked away in a tower waiting until some brave handsome knight would come and rescue me."
"Did he ever rescue you?" asked an intrigued Roxton.
"Of course! It was my daydream! A knight always came on his white horse and saved me," exclaimed Marguerite matter-of-factly.
"And just who was this brave handsome knight?" queried Roxton. He knew it was silly but he actually felt a twinge of jealousy over her make-believe rescuer.
Marguerite laughed. "He never had a face. He was always covered in armor from head to toe."
"How very romantic," teased Roxton as he gazed at her with a twinkle in his eyes.
Marguerite laughed and nudged him in his side. "I was just a young girl." Now it was Marguerite's turn to feign being offended.
Roxton gently brushed a stray lock of hair off her cheek. Gazing upon her beautiful face he could only imagine how pretty and vivacious she must have been as a child. He remembered their previous conversation a few months ago when, with great disappointment, they determined they had never met during their younger years when they both were in Avebury. "I do wish we would have seen each other at the standing stones," lamented Roxton as he softly brushed his lips against her forehead.
"You didn't miss much, just a gawky, young girl stumbling around the standing stones." Marguerite said with a bit of melancholy in her voice.
"I would have loved to see that," Roxton said warmly. He held her a bit more tightly as he gently caressed her arm with his hand.
"I am afraid I was quite clumsy as a young girl John. I remember one time I had stayed too long at the standing stones and was going to be late for dinner. I was extremely upset because I knew my mother would be very angry with me. I was running down the road trying to get home. The road was full of deep ruts. I tripped and fell down into a ravine along side the road. I became entangled in a bramble of vines. The more I tried to free myself the more entangled I became. I was full of tiny cuts from all the thorns on the vines. Thank goodness some nice boy happened by and helped get me out. I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't been there."
Marguerite noticed that Roxton had become very still and quiet. He seemed to be staring at her with the strangest, most unreadable expression on his face. She was immediately concerned.
"What is it John? Are you alright?" asked Marguerite.
"Marguerite," Roxton said as he swallowed hard, "I believe that boy who rescued you was me!"
"What!" said an incredulous Marguerite. "That can't be!" She then quickly added in a softer, hopeful voice, "Could it?"
"I distinctly remember helping a pretty little girl out of some thorny vines that were about half a mile from the standing stones. She was wearing a light blue dress and had brown curly hair. As I recall she was quite upset and anxious to be on her way. She didn't even thank me."
"Oh my God, that was me," Marguerite said in a bare whisper. "You, you were the boy who rescued me!"
For several moments both Roxton and Marguerite lay quietly in each other's arms considering the impact and significance of this revelation.
"We did meet as children," finally stammered Marguerite. "And here we are now. What does that mean John?" She looked up at him with an expectant expression on her face.
Roxton shook his head and stared straight ahead. "I don't know." Then after a few moments he turned to Marguerite with a now resolute look on his face and firmly said, "I believe it means we were meant to be together."
Marguerite looked appreciatively into Roxton's eyes and smiled. Suddenly she felt like she did all those years ago when she played on the standing stones. She felt at peace. She felt like she belonged.
"Thank you John," said Marguerite softly.
"For what?" asked Roxton.
"For rescuing me from those vines," answered a smiling Marguerite.
"My pleasure," he said in a warm and husky voice.
For some reason Marguerite couldn't fully explain, it felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Without second thoughts, Marguerite yawned and snuggled up comfortably against Roxton's side. She was suddenly very tired and now content to spend the night, without reservations, in Roxton's arms.
Roxton held her securely as she began to drift off to sleep. He thought about their meeting as children and the things about her past that Marguerite had told him tonight. His heart was warmed by the fact that she shared these small but meaningful details about her childhood. He took it as sign of trust, and of love. It was also a sign that their relationship was moving forward. It was a beginning, a very good beginning.
He gently leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
"Good night Marguerite. I love you," he whispered.
Marguerite, half asleep but very content, answered him dreamily, "I love you too John."
Roxton smiled a knowing smile. He wasn't sure if Marguerite was going to admit or even remember saying those words in the morning, but it didn't matter. She had said them, again. And he knew they came from her heart.
Roxton rested his cheek against the soft curls of hair on Marguerite's head and fell peacefully asleep just as the last sounds of the storm outside disappeared and the first stars began to twinkle.
Epilogue
Later that night Roxton dreamed of being a young boy and playing pirates. He fought bravely and rescued the beautiful princess. Only this time the princess wasn't an old broom, she was a pretty little girl with long curly dark brown hair and big beautiful green eyes.
Marguerite dreamed too. She was a grand Lady of the Court held prisoner in a tower until a knight in shining armor came to rescue her on his white horse. Only this time his face wasn't covered. He was a very handsome boy with dark, brown hair and a warm smile.
And the pirate and his princess as well as the Lady and her knight all lived happily ever after.
The End