“Selena, tell her who we are.” Challenger requested calmly but firmly, his countenance deceptively austere. He hadn’t seen her for over two years and, if possible, the Amazon queen was even more beautiful then when they had exchanged banter and ‘stimulation’ during that earlier encounter. Without thinking, Challenger’s fingers raised to his chest and throat, where there had once been a jagged raptor wound Selena treated.

“Your hand.” Presently, Selena noted the wrapping where a small spot of blood had seeped through the bandages, “Seems you always come to me injured, Professor.” She smiled gently and reached forward to take a better look, “But I’m pleased it is not life threatening this time.”

“As am I.” Challenger pulled his hand free from her, trying hard to look unaffected by Selena‘s touch. “It appeared we were attacked by cannibals.”

“Appeared? You’re not certain?” She asked, fishing.

Challenger would not take the bait. “Marguerite, Selena. Tell her.”

They were still standing in the arena. Except for a few curious stragglers nearly all the women had left the stands to go about their daily business.

“Marguerite is well aware of who you are.” Selena declared, her tone purposely amplified so all could hear. She turned from Challenger to look at her new warrior. “We never kept it a secret that Marguerite originated from another people. She even waited for you. However, she has come to realize that there are other options. Marguerite needn’t live in your world if she does not want to.”

Challenger persisted, “She’s lost her memory, Selena. She doesn’t understand what she means to us.”

This would have been an excellent time for Roxton to join in on the conversation but he was preoccupied. The hunter found himself gazing at Marguerite, at the fading bruise on her forehead, the askew bandages wrapped about her abdomen and the fresh wound to her upper arm. A binding was now winding around her newest injury and the woman herself appeared remote, watching something in the distance, apparently making a point of not meeting his eyes with her own. However, as disappointed as Roxton was by Marguerite’s dismissal of him he was so very pleased that she was alive and relatively well.

Hippolita was tending to Marguerite and the Amazon looked over to Roxton, acknowledging him. She was offering a smile and wink, perhaps silently reminding him of the flirting they had engaged in once. But Roxton could not bring himself to respond. In ways he could not at once comprehend Roxton felt betrayed by Hippolita, even more so then when she and the others had tried to burn he and his friends alive during their first engagement.

“She’s not an Amazon.” Challenger continued to reason. “She is one of us. And when her memory is fully restored ...”

“You act as if Marguerite is a babbling fool. She has made her choice, Professor Challenger.” Selena opposed.

Annoyed, the woman in question finally barked at the couple, “Stop talking about me as if I’m not here.” She looked to them then Roxton, disturbed by far more then the men’s unexpected appearance. Too many things were happening all at once. Just when Marguerite was beginning to trust again she suddenly found herself feeling apprehensive … of these men … and of her new Amazon companions.

Even as Hippolita was binding her wound Marguerite had looked off to where Beline and Xonya were holding Lavinia between them, clutching an arm a piece. The three were arguing and the heated exchange concluded with the women forcefully pulling Lavinia away, out of the arena. What had Lavinia said whilst struggling with her opponent? Maiming Marguerite could some how save her life?

Briefly, Marguerite glanced at Challenger and Roxton. These men. If they had been hunting for her as they say, if the trackers had gone out into the jungle to find them, why could they not be found? What had Phoebe said? Beline was a tracker but Xonya was an expert with a bow and arrow … an archer. Okay, that could probably be explained away. The jungle was a big and dangerous place. She knew that for a fact. A weapons expert might be needed along with the tracker … but the men …

Marguerite had firmly believed from the very beginning of her ordeal that she would know her “family” the moment they came for her. Yet, if Roxton and Challenger were really a part of her other life why did she not recognize them?

She looked at the tall, rugged hunter with his hat, tan jacket and jodhpurs. Somehow she felt that she should know him but nothing connected. This made her all the angrier.

Marguerite shook Hippolita away and looked unflinchingly at Selena and the others, “I struggled through that damn jungle, facing a T-Rex, filthy slavers, cannibals and two different pterodactyl attacks and …” She finally met Roxton’s eyes, “… where were you!?”

“Trying to find you.” Roxton found his voice, although it was low and filled with less enthusiasm then usual. Perhaps he had failed her. Back at the treehouse he told Marguerite he would help her with those diamonds she felt so passionate about, to spend time with her doing something she wanted to do, but it had been so easy to push her desires aside. Instead, he chose to help Challenger with that damn windmill, with common maintenance the professor could probably have done all on his own, rather then go with her ... to spend time with Marguerite when she really wanted his company. Yes, he was planning to join her later, even had visions of romance when the digging was done, but he should have known better. Marguerite was not a woman to sit around waiting on a man, then and now. “I would have done anything to save you from what you have been through. Believe me, Marguerite.”

She gazed at him for a moment, her expression softening slightly. He seemed so sincere.

Marguerite then looked from Roxton to Challenger and finally back to Selena. She was suspicious but could not deny the Amazons their due. “These women were the first signs of true humanity I encountered here in this God forsaken world.” she told them, “They took me in, treated my wounds, and have shown me a kindness over the last couple days that I cannot ever repay -- except maybe if I give them my loyalty.” Marguerite watched as a bemused Challenger removed his hat and blinked at her words, “I owe them more then a ‘thank you and now I must leave.’ Especially,” she added when she felt a protest coming, “when I have no idea who either of you are.”

“You cannot stay, Marguerite.” Roxton’s tone was far more terse then he intended. Inside he was being ripped to pieces with every word she uttered, in the grips of a revelation that came to him like a bolt from the blue. The very idea that Marguerite would choose to leave him was something Roxton could not endure.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she snapped back, looking angrily into the man’s intense eyes. His rather attractive green eyes, she noted. He really was a handsome devil, Marguerite suddenly realized, and he was also arrogant, selfish, dynamic and … Something about all this seemed vaguely familiar.

“We need,” Challenger lifted his hands, “to take a breath and think about what is happening. Our emotions are over-ruling common sense.”

“I think you are correct, Professor.” Selena conceded, “Let us relax awhile, refresh ourselves, then sit down for a meal. We can discuss this further, peacefully and perhaps come to a satisfactory middle ground.”

They all turned to exit the arena.

“By the way,” Selena fell in beside Challenger, “How did you get passed our gates?”

“We called up to your tower and they opened for us. We heard the cheers from the arena and came straight this way.” Challenger then said, “You’ve made some wonderful improvements to your village, Selena. There has been expansion, I see. We’re always looking to advance our situation at the treehouse. Any tips you could give us would be appreciated.”

Selena agreed with elegant charm but the fact that the gates were never to be opened, particularly to strangers, did not leave her. She would have a serious word with her sentry. Someone on the inside was sabotaging her plans.

***

“You know something and I want to know what it is.” Marguerite demanded. She walked over to the three mature women as they sat and chatted near a wide-lipped well, their buckets full and ready to be distributed where necessary.

The others had gone off to relax, bathe and have a drink before dinner. Indeed, Marguerite told an inquiring Selena she was going to lay down in her room for awhile. Instead, she determined to find where Lavinia had been taken. Marguerite search for an hour through the village but could not find her.

Finally she saw these woman, never far apart, conversing near their water supply. She had seen them before, appearing concerned every time they looked in her direction, either pitying or disliking what they saw. There had to be a reason and Marguerite decided it was time to find answers for herself.

“We wondered how long it would take before you came to see us.” One of the women, plump and direct, said. “But we know how difficult that can be when Selena and her ladies drag you by the hair night and day.”

“And such pretty hair.” another commented.

Two of the four women tittered. The fourth woman, the most serious, stood and took a pace closer to their newest ‘sister‘. Nervous, Marguerite stepped back. She recognized this particular woman by her grey hair and unlined face. She appeared to be their unstated leader. “You have felt there is something not quite right since the moment you’ve come here,” she said, “and for good reason.”

“Am I in danger?” Marguerite asked, frankly.

“Far more intelligent then we thought.” The tallest of the women, speaking from the other side of the well, arched a brow.

“Who are you?” Marguerite asked.

The serious woman said, “I am Circe. This is Willow, Livia, Jaynelle and Lia.”

Each nodded as there names were spoken.

“Selena was very eager for you to belong, wasn’t she?” Circe said, “An hour ago you had your initiation and now - tomorrow - you are to go outside these gates on your own, with nothing more than a shield and sword, to face twelve hours of … what? Do you know?”

“It’s a trial to prove courage.” Marguerite repeated what she was told.

“And what if you fail, Marguerite?”

“I suppose I do not remain an Amazon.”

“That’s putting it simply.” The Jaynelle stated, hoisting her pail to rest on an ample hip. “You will either survive or die.”

Marguerite expected as much, “Becoming an Amazon is not easy.”

“But your men are here now, Marguerite.” Lia stated, “Now you can go home.”

“I don’t know what home is.” Again, Marguerite was plain-spoken. “Why would you expect me to go off with men I don’t know?”

“You are a fool.” Liva growled. “Where are your instincts, woman?”

“No, she has instincts. That’s why she is here. But Selena can be very persuasive.” Circe looked about for prying eyes. She saw none but that did not mean they were not there, “We need to talk further but not here, Marguerite. When are they expecting you for supper?”

“Soon.”

Circe spoke quietly, “Tonight go to the east side of the village, where the detaining sheds are located …”

“Detaining …?”

“Phoebe’s on guard duty. She’ll let you in to see her.”

“Her?”

“You want to find Lavinia and speak your mind? She wants to talk with you too.”

***

Marguerite returned to her quarters to quickly wash up for dinner. She had been so taken aback by her odd conversation with Circe and the women that she hadn’t immediately seen the jewelry laying beside her washbasin. However, she would not be Marguerite Krux - with or without all her faculties - if the glitter of the silver arm bands and a uniquely studded silver necklace escaped her attention altogether. She lifted a piece curiously and studied the fine linkwork. “A bribe?” Marguerite pondered and suddenly turned about, wondering if her benefactor was still on premises.

Marguerite was alone. Then another gift caught her attention.

A crimson dinner gown had been carefully laid out on the bed. It was long, sleeveless and filmy and had an beguilingly dipped neckline. Quite elegant, Marguerite thought, and it reminded her of the ancient Greek attire she was sure she’d seen in pictures years ago. With a resigned sigh, Marguerite determined it was one of Selena’s gowns, an attempt at making her new warrior more comfortable during the supper to come. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Marguerite was uneasy in her short skirt and bare midriff, possibly more so in the men’s presence.

At first Marguerite thought to ignore the gesture and go to dinner as she was dressed now. However, if the offerings were meant to honor her it would be a terrible insult to Selena if she were to declined her kindness. Marguerite touched the gown’s luxuriant fabric. It was lovely and if available at Harrods it would cost a fortune.

Marguerite blinked. How did she know that? Another memory restored. More were to follow, she was sure.

“Miss Marguerite,” a girl called from the other side of her closed bedroom door, “Queen Selena has sent me to help you prepare for supper. You are the guest of honor.”

“Of course I am.” Marguerite murmured with a minute roll of her eyes, a bit of her old cynicism coming to the forefront. Once more she glanced at the crimson gown then moved to open the door.

***

They were given quarters outside the main building, a small serviceable hut with two cots, a table and a bowl of fresh water with several lengths of wash cloth beside it. The room wasn’t altogether uncomfortable, they were free to walk in and out as they pleased, but Roxton was a little troubled by the bars across their one window. This was nothing like the quarters he and Ned had been given during their first visit. While Challenger recovered in Selena’s lodgings he and the reporter were sent to lounge in another room with elaborate fixtures, running water and the most charming and pretty of young maids.

Absence had a way of changing a situation.

“George, I don’t like this at all.” Roxton whispered his concern, “First they take our weapons as if we are still considered the enemy then they treat us like we are their honored guests.”

“They’re just being careful, John. We would do the same under the same circumstances.”

Roxton and Challenger walked down the long ornate hallway in the main building of the Amazon village to where the evening meal was being served, “Why are these women so eager to have Marguerite join them? Why is Selena being so mysterious?”

“During the meal we may get a few answers to these questions, John.”

“I feel like we should just grab her and go.”

Challenger disagreed, “You heard Marguerite. She’s loyal to Selena. How far do you think we’d get with her before she broke free from us and made her way back to this village? Somehow we need to get her to remember us. Then she‘ll come with us freely.”

“If I could only get her alone for a few minutes.”

“Gentlemen,” Labrada abruptly came up from behind them and took an arm a piece, placing herself squarely in the middle as they walked, “You’re right on time.” she said and looked from one man to the other, “Selena appreciates promptness.”

Roxton regarded the tall redhead for a moment. He sensed her presence was calculated. “I don’t recall seeing you last time we were here.” he commented, sagely. “Is Queen Selena advertising these days?”

“Not at all. I lived in a small village not far from here. I was married to an abusive man and decided enough was enough.”

“So, you left him and stumbled upon the Amazons just like Marguerite?” Challenger asked.

“No, I heard of them from other women, visitors to our village. I came here on purpose. Living with other women is what’s best for me.” She then smiled enigmatically, with a near smirk, and said, “There are so many more choices.” and she released the men’s arms and walked into the dinner hall ahead of them.

Challenger and Roxton glanced at each other then followed her inside.

***

“Wait, let me get this straight, you turned the men over to the cannibals?” Marguerite asked, unbelieving, as they dined. She sat to the right of their hostess who, like Marguerite, was a vision dressed in a glorious gown.

There was a momentary silence as Challenger looked at Selena, waiting for her reply and Roxton gazed at Marguerite, please with her familiar directness.

He could not speak a word to her although every fiber in his being ached to do just that. It had nothing to do with redirection, the Amazon women steering he and Challenger to the other side of their long dinner table, or the chaos of a meal quickly served. No, Roxton’s inaction because he was a man, simple and dazed, stunned by the breathtaking beauty of a woman -- the woman he loved.

Marguerite wore the sleek crimson gown, jewelry and her lovely hair was twisted into a Grecian fall down her back. It was almost as if someone had thought it carefully through, knowing how her appearance would make him react. Even Challenger was a bit dumbfounded by Marguerite’s singular attractiveness. It wasn’t new. She was always beautiful but now Marguerite appeared not only glamorous but nearly magical.

He could almost ignore the still slightly bluish bruise on her head and the secure bandage around her left upper arm ...

“Times were hard and we were at war, Marguerite.” Selena explained, “But we learned a new way. The men don’t oppress us and we don’t imprison them. We have reached a new understanding.”

Marguerite looked from Selena, taking in what she said with silent ambiguity, to where Roxton sat a distance away, across from her. She met his unwavering eyes and was a little surprised that she felt no urge to immediately look away.

There was a connection there. Marguerite could not deny it.

After supper, Roxton stood and spoke with some of the women. His gaze was never far from Marguerite. At the moment she was speaking with both Selena and Challenger, both attempting to sway her with opposing viewpoints, and causing her to laugh softly.

Alone, he thought once again. He had to get her alone.

***

“Marguerite, wait!” Roxton had managed to slip out undetected. After their meal, during the obligatory post supper chat with drinks and conversations replete with second guessing and compromise, Roxton maneuvered himself to the back of a crowd of women and out a none-descript exit. He was watching as Marguerite, feigning fatigue and a big day tomorrow, excused herself.

In the hall she turned to look at him and noted how he slowed when approaching her. His eyes were devouring her. She saw fear, indecisiveness and affection in his gaze, “Can I help you?” she asked.

He recognized the tone. It was the same as when they first met, when he had guffawed at the idea of a lady going on a journey through the Amazon, and she asked him if he had a problem. “We didn’t get a chance to speak.” Roxton said.

“I’m not sure we have much to say to each other.” she replied.

“How can I convince you …?” Roxton started, talking more to himself then to the woman in front of him, “Marguerite, why don’t you remember me?” he asked, in a near beseeching voice.

Her expression softened a little at his inquiry. It was as if Lord Roxton was a little boy asking a companion why a toy train had been taken away from him. “I don’t know.” Marguerite said, taking a step forward. “I want to -- really I do.” she said, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Do you have any idea what it’s like knowing you have a past life but not knowing anything about it? I know you and Challenger are a part of that life, that you and Veronica and Malone … and others …” She faded, looking away from him and appearing every bit as miserable as the tall, handsome hunter before her.

He took a pace closer to her and she did not back away.

“Marguerite …” Unable to help himself Roxton lifted a hand and touched her cheek and hair. For a moment he regretted it when the woman’s eyes grew wide and Marguerite showed every sign of being horrified by his action. But suddenly he felt her leaning into his hand, her eyes closing and her own two hands lifted to grasp his wrist, fearing he might pull away.

She was day-dreaming, cheek resting in the warmth of his palm, and recalling … “Tartes du jour.” Marguerite whispered, “What does it mean?”

“It’s a café in Paris.” he spoke softly, hopefully. Roxton could see the struggle in Marguerite, her expression as she fought valiantly to remember.

“I know but why is it so vivid in my memory? Why, when you touch me, does it spring into my mind?” Her eyes remained closed as she concentrated.

“We’ve both been there separately,” Roxton said, knowing the answer she sought. “and have had some very good times. I promised you when we returned to civilization that we would go there together … as a part of our honeymoon.”

Startled, the trance abruptly broken, Marguerite took in a deep breath and pulled away from him, releasing Roxton’s hand and wrist. She stared at the hunter, incredulous and anxious, but also strangely warmed. “I … I have to go.” she said, backing further away from him, shaken.

“Marguerite please, you were starting to remember.” Roxton’s voice took on desperation, “If we work on it together I know …”

“I’ve got to go .” Marguerite repeated, several sensations racing across her face, “We … we’ll talk again …”

“I can’t let you go like this.” Roxton moved quickly forward and took her firmly by the upper arms, careful of her wound, staring deeply into her large grey eyes as they looked up into his. “I love you.” he said then, impulsively, leaned in to kiss Marguerite passionately, enfolding her in his arms. Yes, it was rash and probably a little presumptuous but it was also instinctual and the only way he could think, in the time he had, to prove his sincerity and his ardor.

Her hands reached up and rested on his shoulders as amorous images crept into her mind. Too bodies lay together, his lips on her neck, fingers gently brushing her bare shoulder, kisses following his touch. Her own arms around him, hands and fingers massaging his bare back, her lips brushing the ruff stubble of his chin, her teeth softly raking his well muscled shoulder as she was filled with his passion … “Oh Roxton …” she breathed aloud in the present as she did in that vision. “John …”

Then the images were gone and she felt empty.

Marguerite pulled back once again from Roxton, this time gentle and unhurried, allowing him to hold her loosely, their foreheads barely touching. She still could not remember -- even after a moment like this, even after sensing she and this man had something very special together, even after seeing the visions that bespoke of a couple intimately in love … she was still lost and alone, with little or no memory.

“I need to go.” Marguerite said again, hiding an emotional sob with her resolve. Though, this time it was not spoken in fear, merely as a matter of fact. “I promise we will talk again, Roxton. I’ll come and see you later tonight.”

“And will you come with us tomorrow?” he asked, with guarded optimism.

“I’m not sure. I can’t promise you anything yet until I know …” she trailed.

Marguerite pulled away from him once again and watched as Roxton’s arms fell to hang limp at his sides, “Wait for me.” she said. Reluctantly, but without another word, she turned about to leave him alone in the hall.

Lavinia awaited.

***

END OF CHAPTER 9.

2 MORE CHAPTERS TO GO …