Well, Marguerite thought bitterly, I hope Malone is having as bloody awful time as I am.
The exhausted heiress had never worked so physically hard in her life. While Challenger tinkered away with the finer points of his precious windmill, Roxton and Marguerite had been lugging branches, cutting planks, and stretching tarp. The industrious lord had been working non-stop since they had arrived, and the worst part was that he expected Marguerite to keep up with him! Not only was she expected to get dirty and sweaty but also Roxton seemed to be working some of last night's aggression out on her. Logs were thrown, not passed, by the miffed hunter.
A dark, angry cloud hung over Marguerite's head as she walked back and forth across the field but it did little good. While Marguerite's sour moods never failed to get a reaction out of Roxton, apparently he couldn't care less about Malone's temperament. Nor did he care when she had to extract nasty looking splinters or when chunks of wood bruised her toes. Occasionally he would throw her a distracted "Are you all right?" but he rarely stayed within earshot long enough to hear her answer.
Marguerite was a tough dame who could hold her own in any situation but she was also used to manipulating those situations to make them easier. Roxton's utter lack of sympathy for Malone's fatigue gave her nothing to play with.
Just refusing to work had crossed Marguerite's black thoughts several times but she realized that shirking physical labour was not a very Malone-like action. While she didn't care one whit about Malone's reputation, she didn't want Roxton asking any prying questions. To avoid suspicion, she continued to plough through the monotonous work while imagining new ways to insert the wooden planks in Challenger and Roxton's smiling faces.
Finally, Marguerite's murderous temper got the better of her. Roxton had thrown her a log that had scraped across her arm and had given her a new nasty splinter. While she gingerly examined the agitated area, Roxton threw her the next piece of rough wood which hit her sharply in the stomach.
"That's it!" Marguerite exclaimed, throwing down the offending lumber. "I'm not doing this anymore!"
Roxton, who was still busily moving wood, froze in mid-throw and placed his own log on the ground.
Worked into a boil now, Marguerite tore off her work gloves and started to storm off, heading for the nearby stream.
"Where are you going?" Roxton demanded. "Malone!"
Marguerite ignored him and picked up speed in an attempt to work out her fury on her long strides. She soon heard Roxton behind her. He caught up to her with loud clumping that she noted, with dismay, matched her own masculine walk. Realizing that even in Malone's body she couldn't outrun him, Marguerite stopped abruptly under a large tree and crossed her arms over her chest.
"What was that all about?" Roxton asked calmly. He came up beside Marguerite and started wiping his brow with his handkerchief.
"That? Oh, nothing," Marguerite steamed. "I have more wood in me than that damned windmill but everything's fine!"
She started rubbing fiercely at her newest injury, while Roxton stared at the small patch of red skin in puzzlement.
"Is that all? Just get Veronica to rub some salve on it when we get back to the tree house and it will be as good as new," he said with a teasing wink.
Marguerite turned on him angrily. "Well thank you, Doctor. I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
"I just-" Roxton tried to get out, shocked by Marguerite's, or what he though was Malone's, violent reaction.
"Please, spare me," Marguerite interrupted. "I have had more than enough of your help for today." She once again began to head for the stream but she couldn't resist turning around one more time to glance at the astonished Roxton. "Please feel free to knock someone else around while I'm gone," she bit off.
Marguerite smiled grimly to herself at finally having blown off some steam. Before she could create much distance between herself and the hunter, however, he grabbed her arm and spun her around.
"Careful Malone," Roxton warned, his voice low. "Just remember you started this whole thing in Marguerite's room back at the tree house."
"What!" Marguerite only backed down from Roxton on very rare occasions, and after the morning she had had, this wasn't one of them. She straightened up, looked Roxton in the eyes, and in her most menacing voice said, "Let go of my arm."
Roxton returned her stare for several seconds and then released her arm. However, instead of stepping back, he gave her a bitter grin and pushed her roughly away from him. Pushed her! They had had their share of nearly violent arguments but he had never dared to-. Marguerite caught her balance and stood motionlessly in shock.
"Walk away, Malone," Roxton told her and he began to follow his own advice.
But Marguerite's temper was just getting started. She quickly closed the gap between the two of them. "If you ever touch me again-" Marguerite didn't wait to finish her own threat but interrupted by slapping Roxton square across the face.
It was something that she had done before but never as Malone. Roxton was taken back by the slap, but, with practice, he was getting better at recovering from Malone's odd behaviour. He responded almost automatically, but disproportionately, by punching Marguerite square in the face.
She was pushed away from him in the momentum and fell to the ground. When she quickly got back up, Roxton was ready for a fight but Marguerite had another surprise for him. She was holding her face and crying out, "You hit me! You idiot! You hit me!"
When Marguerite made no move to attack him, Roxton relaxed his muscles and regarded her awkwardly.
"Um, are you alright?" he asked sheepishly.
"Alright? How could I be alright? You hit me in the face!"
"Well you hit me!" Roxton started but the anger dissolved from his features. "Malone, this is ridiculous. What are we even fighting about?"
The intense fire in Marguerite's eyes masked the tears that threatened to form there. "You hit me! Remember!"
"Let's just forget the whole thing," Roxton offered, trying to recover from the most uncomfortable fistfight he had ever had in his life.
When Marguerite looked like she was going to do the exact opposite of just forgetting about it, Roxton quickly inserted, "No harm done or at least nothing a little soap and polish won't fix. Hey, I'll race you to the stream."
Roxton started slowly heading in that direction, looking over his shoulder at the flustered Marguerite. Not knowing what else to do, as she had little experience at being punched by a fellow man, Marguerite squared her shoulders and stormed past him.
When the two 'men' got to the stream, Marguerite bent low over the water to avoid looking at Roxton. She scrubbed irritably at the grime on her hands and neck. She still felt like contributing a few scathing remarks to the confrontation but the throbbing in her face stilled her sharp tongue. In words, Marguerite could beat Roxton to the ground and kick him while he was down but with fists? She wasn't so sure.
The tension between the two explorers was thick, and Marguerite was satisfactorily aware of Roxton's discomfort. The hunter took a long, slow swig from his canteen and then silently offered it to the crouching Marguerite. She gave him a pointed glare in return and then returned to violently scrubbing her neck.
She stopped abruptly when she heard Roxton give a deep, throated chuckle behind her. "Does something amuse you?" she asked, turning to look up at him.
He was staring into the distance and shaking his head in grim amusement. "I was just thinking about how many arguments we would all avoid if it weren't for the lovely Miss Krux."
Gritting her teeth, Marguerite tried to ignore him but Roxton persisted.
"Whatever it is that Marguerite did-" She opened her mouth to protest but Roxton continued with out pause, "-or didn't do, it's not worth fighting over."
"Of course not." Marguerite whipped the excess water off of her hands and stood up stiffly. "What does it matter what Marguerite does? Her sole purpose in life is merely to cause problems, wind us up, and generally ruin everything."
Roxton confused her sarcasm with Malone's usual cynicism concerning Marguerite.
"That may be what she often sets out to do to turn things in her favour, but it never finishes that way. She can never quite go through with it."
Roxton's exposed comment hit Marguerite harder than the punch of just moments ago.
"Is that what you really think?" Marguerite asked quietly.
"I think that there is more to Marguerite Krux than anyone realizes. More than even she realizes. It's difficult to get to under all those layers of self-protection but I figure it's worth waiting for."
Marguerite turned to face Roxton and tried to find the honesty she heard in his voice matched in his eyes.
"Lord Roxton," she started as evenly as she could, "don't tell me you've become emotionally involved."
Roxton smiled crookedly and screwed the cap back on his canteen. "Now is not the time to recount my old bullet wounds, Malone."
Confused, Marguerite's mind suddenly latched onto a not-too-distant memory. A small jail cell, Roxton bleeding from a gunshot wound in the chest, herself leaning over to gently kiss him.
"Wait, you told Malone about that!"
Fortunately, Roxton's attention was elsewhere and he didn't hear Marguerite's embarrassed exclamation. He was busy listening to something in the distance.
"I think Veronica and Marguerite are here, speak of the devil. C'mon let's go have some lunch." Roxton punched Marguerite playfully in the shoulder and headed off towards the windmill before he could see her grimace of pain.
Marguerite followed reluctantly, mentally rubbing her bruised ego and physically rubbing her shoulder. Overgrown Neanderthal, she vented mentally, I bet I could have taken him.
---
"Well you certainly couldn't have picked a better day for a swim," Challenger remarked cheerfully. The scientist was putting his best effort toward making things more comfortable, but, try as he might, tension still pulsed in the air.
The newly arrived women hadn't said a dozen words between them since they had emerged out of the jungle. Veronica was testily spreading out the group's lunch on a makeshift table, while Marguerite paced restlessly.
Challenger's comment was acknowledged only by a brief dejected look from Marguerite, who then returned her frustrated eyes back to the task of following Veronica's movements.
Suddenly, the two younger men of the expedition appeared in the field from the direction of the stream. Challenger raised his hand in relieved greeting and nodded at the food as they walked up.
"You made it just in time," Challenger said.
"So it appears," Roxton answered, doffing his hat to the women. "It smells wonderful."
Challenger quickly chimed in, "Doesn't it? Veronica's culinary talents have prepared us quite a feast, wouldn't you say Malone?" With this last emphasis, Challenger turned eyes meaningfully on Malone, who was rubbing his arm distractingly.
Malone continued to examine his inflictions. "Ah, sure Challenger. The food smells great."
Roxton circled the table, looking for a stool, and smiled slyly. "The food? Oh yes, that smells inviting too," he said as he passed behind Marguerite and settled down beside where she was already seated. All Roxton's comment got from Marguerite was an exasperated look, however. He grabbed a piece of fruit off of her plate and took a loud, agitated bite.
Malone moved to sit beside Marguerite but Challenger jumped in front of him and grabbed the rough, homemade stool first. By forcing Malone to sit between himself and Veronica, the practical professor hoped to just make this whole inexplicable mess go away.
"Well," Challenger began, as the uncomfortable dining companions started into the lunch, "I think we're quite a bit ahead of schedule. I don't think we'll have to work nearly as long as I originally estimated."
Beside him, Malone loudly slammed his cup onto the table. "Peachy," he said, his eyes raising to stab at Marguerite, "I guess that means the girls will hardly have to help at all."
The smile fell from Challenger's face, but he quickly replaced it with another, if less bright, one. "Yes, well…" he decided to try a new angle, "How was the water this morning ladies?"
"Cold," Marguerite mumbled with a crestfallen glance at Veronica.
"You know Malone," Veronica angrily blurted out, as if Challenger and Marguerite had never spoken, "If you're too tired to do a little work, you could always head back to the tree house with Marguerite."
All the other heads at the table, which had been previously focused on their plates, jerked to attention.
Malone looked at Veronica in shock but his expression slipped so quickly to haughty anger that Challenger wasn't sure if the former expression had been there at all. Malone threw down the food he was eating and squarely met Veronica's gaze.
"Maybe I'll do just that!" Malone hissed.
"Hey!" Marguerite interjected, "Don't take that tone with her!"
Malone swung his malicious gaze to the other side of the table. "I'll do whatever I damn well please! You can't begin to even imagine the rubbish I've gone through for you today!"
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Roxton asked, distributing his regard between Malone and Marguerite.
"Calm down everyone!" Challenger interrupted loudly. "You're all acting like spoiled children!"
"No," Veronica insisted, "go ahead Malone. At least we're finally hearing how you really feel!"
"Oh, I haven't even begun!" Malone returned.
"No, you're finished!" Marguerite exclaimed, pushing away from the table, "One more word and I swear-"
Malone mimicked her abrupt rise from the table and leaned forward, the muscles in his arms flexing meaningfully. "Or you'll what, Marguerite?"
"Now just a minute-" Roxton began, but he never completed his warning sentence because 'Malone' had apparently had enough. The young journalist pulled back and then punched Roxton so hard in the face that the surprised lord and his chair fell backward into the grass.
"Now we're even!" Malone exclaimed triumphantly, as the remaining seated explorers jumped up with alarm.
Malone barely got his revengeful statement out before a seething Roxton reappeared from behind the table. The fury in the hunter's eyes physically pushed Challenger back, but the visionary was quick to respond to the murderous implications.
"Roxton, no!" Challenger lunged at Roxton and tried to restrain him as Malone backed away from the table in surprise.
"Let me go, Challenger!" Roxton bellowed but Challenger held the younger man tightly. Marguerite, too, grabbed onto Roxton, and Veronica, as angry as she was at Malone, stepped into Roxton's intended path.
Roxton looked in turn at his three friends in frustration and then sagged in defeat. At Roxton's relaxing, Challenger allowed the lord to pull away from him. The fire still burning in his eyes, Roxton glared at Malone and began walking in the opposite direction of the tensed reporter. Veronica followed suit and stormed off after casting Malone a scathing glance. Overwhelmed with anger and fear, Malone too headed off in another direction, leaving Challenger and Marguerite alone with their shocked expressions.
"Now," Challenger muttered darkly, "what was I saying about it being such a nice day?"
To Be Continued….