It was three o’clock in the morning when she blinked open her eyes. In the moonlight, filtering through the barred window in their small cell (disguised as guest quarters), she could see him laying beside her, facing her. He was asleep, of course, dreaming the dreams of the heroic. Marguerite loved watching Roxton while he slept. He was handsome anytime but when he was sound asleep, completely unaware, the man radiated a special guiltless quality which charmed her to the core.

Her attention was diverted to their hands, clasped together while they had both slumbered. Softly, her fingers caressed his, pleased by his brawny digits, their masculine strength. It was hard to believe hands like these, which had struggled with and killed ape men, dinosaurs and the occasional plateau bully were also capable of bringing such joy …

Hours ago, when the whip had come down on him for the final time, scoring Roxton’s exposed skin, his body slid limply down her back. He dropped painfully to his knees and collapsed to the floor.

“Release me!” Marguerite ordered, disguising her distress and panic.

Labrada and Hippolita looked imploringly to Selena.

“NOW, Selena!” Challenger also demanded, not so subtle, and did not waver when she met his eyes.

“We are not callous.” She nodded to her warriors, shrewdly weighing her options. “Lord Roxton has proven himself quite the champion.”

Quickly, the women loosened the ropes which held Marguerite in place. Once released she was beside Roxton, helping him to sit up, very careful she did not touch his slashed back. Yet, even in pain she saw him trying valiantly to pull himself together, to pretend he was not suffering as much as he truly was. “Are you all right?” Marguerite whispered fearfully, cupping his left cheek so he could look at her.

“Never better.” he said, with a hidden groan. Seeing her through a fog but loving the fine-looking, fretful image which gazed back at him, Roxton lifted a hand and caressed Marguerite underneath her smooth chin with his fingertips. He then leaned heavily on her as they stood, perspiration pouring down his face and neck.

“Satisfied?” Challenger asked Selena, sarcastic and fuming.

“It’s late.” Selena announced, her tone purposely calm. “Marguerite may stay with Roxton tonight to treat his injuries. She glanced at Challenger, “Professor, we need to speak further. You will be my guest.”

Marguerite thought they might be taken to her quarters but, instead, they were led to Roxton and Challenger’s hut on the outside of the main house. ‘So much for my good standing with the Amazons.’, she thought. Once in the smaller room, Roxton fell exhausted on his cot and lay on his side, grimacing in pain.

“If you need anything …” one of the warriors began.

“Plantain, Sagebrush, Zedoary -- Something that will sooth and heal these cuts.” Marguerite demanded, “Quickly.”

One of the women nodded and moved off to do her bidding.

“You can leave.” she told the other Amazon who hesitated by the door.

“I will be outside -- on guard duty.” she replied.

Marguerite nodded. She understood. Distrusted, she and Roxton were now to be watched very closely.

“I missed that.” Roxton mumbled, breathing heavily in discomfort.

“What?” Marguerite asked, looking down at him.

“That demanding sound in your voice.” Roxton almost chucked through his pain.

“When you’re better you’ll be getting much more than my firm voice, Roxton. Of all the stupid things to do ...” she muttered, again covering her worry. Marguerite brought the bowl of water and cloths over to him and, kneeling beside the cot, said: “Lay on your stomach.” She then carefully began to clean his wounds. Marguerite was as gentle as possible but could tell, by his quick intakes of breath, that her ministrations were not as soothing as he would have liked. “You must be hurting pretty badly.” she said, concerned but composed.

“I’ve felt worse.” he said, the words muffled into his pillow.

“I know. I patched you up through some of those worse times.”

“There’s nothing you can’t fix …” he started then raised up marginally and looked at her over his shoulder. “You remember applying first aid to me in the past?”

“Yes,” she said, “and you’re not a very good patient, as I recall.”

“Marguerite …” His eyes widened and he lurched very slightly forward at the implication.

“Yes, I remember, John.” she clarified with an easy nod. “Nearly everything. A few things are still a little unclear.”

“When?” he asked. Despite the pain he was elated.

“While you were being whipped.” Marguerite suddenly appeared uncomfortable, “It all came back to me. It was as if someone had opened a window and, like a rush of fresh air against my face, I was slapped into reality. It all made sense. I knew you, Challenger, my history … ”

Interrupting them, the Amazon guard returned with the supplies Marguerite ordered. She spent the next ten minutes mixing and applying a substance to Roxton’s back and bandaging his lacerations.

Roxton returned his head to the pillow as she worked on him, but continued to stare at Marguerite, her expression serious, concentrating on her patient. The bruise on her forehead was almost gone but the discoloration was still a reminder that his love had been in peril. Roxton’s eyes moved downward, to check the now unbandaged scratches at her slim waist. If only he had been their to help her during that pterodactyl attack. “Marguerite, tell me more.” he murmured to her, “Why do you think that moment brought back your memory?”

For a moment Marguerite did not appear to want to talk about it but, reconsidering, she said, “I’ve been kissed before and men have told me they love me more times than I care to recall but very few …” She stopped abruptly and shook her head, critically pondering her past. “No man has ever sacrificed himself for my benefit. It comes naturally and is unique to you Roxton, wanting me safe at all cost, risking your own life to save mine. It’s one of the things I love about you, the self sacrifice, the loyalty … and it’s one of the things about you, Lord Roxton, that makes me want to throttle you with my own two hands!”

Roxton smiled and tried to hide his mild laugh in the pillow.

“Anyway,” Marguerite calmed herself, “my mind made the connection somehow -- and I started to remember.”

“I’m so glad.” Once again Roxton rolled to his side. He watched as Marguerite pushed the bowl and improvised medicine aside. His back was feeling better, not as painful as it had minutes before, and he was grateful for the clever beauty before him. She had been paying attention when he, Veronica and Challenger spoke of the best uses of the nature around them.

Then, almost with a will of its own, Roxton’s mind shifted to the guilt he felt while searching for her. “Marguerite, I am so sorry we didn’t get to Malone Rift before the slavers …”

“Hush.“ She stroked his hair, still kneeling by the cot. “I don’t blame you, John. Sometimes I’m my own worst enemy. I should have waited for you like I promised.” She looked about the hut, “Now look at us. Not only are we stuck in this cramped little room all night but I’m facing filthy, deranged cannibals tomorrow.”

He reached up and, with a very gentle forefinger, barely traced an area around her lovely mouth. “I won’t let them take you.” he promised.

She could not stop the ironic smirk, “In the shape you’re in, Lord Roxton, I don’t think you’ll be able to stop the women from throwing me out into the jungle tomorrow morning. No,” she sighed, “this is something I’m going to have to work out on my own. If only I had my weapons. Even my hat would be a plus. I’ve lost everything …” she lamented.

“Wait,” Roxton was please to be able to introduce at least a small bit of good news her way, “Look in my pack.” He glanced over to the table where the water bowl had once been.

Marguerite got to her feet and did as she was told. She searched inside and found her switchblade, “I don’t even remember losing this.” she said. She unfolded the blade then snapped back into place. Strangely, it did not make her feel at ease. She would have to think about it later -- if there was a later.

It was the first wide, genuine grin he had seen from her since walking into the Amazon village. Until now he didn’t realized how much he missed it.

“Where did you find it?” she asked, placing the hat carefully on her head, proving that it was indeed hers.

“Would you believe hanging from a tree? It was just like a Christmas ornament.”

“A tree?” Marguerite glanced at him skeptically then - reassessing - said, “Yes, I believe it.” Delighted, she pulled the hat from her head once again and tossed it, and the knife, onto the table which also accommodated Roxton’s own hat. She knelt on the floor beside his cot once again, “And you saved them for me.”

“And a few pieces of cloth that you tore from your blouse. I knew we would eventually find you and …”

In seconds, never letting him finish the reply, Marguerite placed one of her hands very gently on the side of his neck. Carefully, appreciatively and lovingly she kissed him full on the lips. “Thank you, John” she said and kissed him again.

Roxton was pleasantly astonished by her reaction but quickly entered into the spirit of Marguerite’s approval. He could feel moisture against his cheek as they kissed and Roxton soon became conscious that Marguerite was weeping, the tears flowing unchecked from her eyes. He wasn’t altogether certain where this flood of emotion was coming from but he accepted it easily and happily. Although emotional, she was content for the first time in a long while.

If he had felt better, did not have the brutal evidence of Amazon wrath on his back, Roxton would have held her in his arms now and expressed his affection for Marguerite in a far more enthusiastic manner then currently demonstrated.

Moments later, parting from him, Marguerite dried her eyes and announced it was late and he needed sleep.

“And so do you.” Roxton added, regretfully. Who better then the hunter to know what Marguerite would be up against the following day. Yet, when she tried to move from his side he held fast to her hand. “ Marguerite …”. Roxton could not accurately express what was in his heart so he fell silent.

Using her free hand, Marguerite once again ran gentle fingers through his dartk hair. She understood the unasked question, “Just a minute.” she said.

Roxton watched as the woman pulled away from him and moved over to what was once Challenger’s cot. She reached down and shoved it from the wall and brought it up beside his own. Roxton smiled when he realized what she was doing.

Someone once told him it took years of living together for a couple to read each others thoughts. Obviously he and Marguerite did not need the time others required.

She lay down on the bed on her side, facing him, and reached for Roxton’s extended hand, “Just let me know if you need anything during the night.” she whispered.

“Promise me you will say that again when I’m feeling better.”

Marguerite laugh quietly.

“Goodnight Marguerite.” he said and closed his eyes.

***

((Merry Christmas! Chapter 12 and the conclusion to this story will be here very soon -- STAY TUNED!)) 12-24-2005.

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