They returned to the treehouse right on schedule, during the early evening of the following day, and were greeted by a very relieved Malone and Veronica. The concerned couple told their friends they were only hours away from going out after them and, next time, they were to leave more information.

Veronica examined all their various wounds and told the trio her diagnosis was simple. “Nothing a long hot shower or bath can’t cure. A good night sleep in a comfortable bed wouldn’t hurt either.”

Marguerite nodded with a gentle smile and, appearing slightly distracted, prepared to go down stairs to her room.

“Oh wait, Marguerite." Veronica called to her back and approached as she turned about. The jungle beauty presented a somewhat wilted but lovely flower necklace to Marguerite. “It’s from Niki. He was sorry you didn’t come with us.” she said, reminding Marguerite of the tree-children‘s underage heartthrob who, years previously, had become quite smitten with their tall brunette visitor.

Marguerite took the necklace, mimed her gratitude to Veronica, but said nothing.

“One more thing,” Malone, not to be outdone, brought over a handkerchief which was wrapped around five impressive uncut gems. He lifted them for Marguerite’s inspection and smiled, “Veronica and I went to Malone Rift to check on things while you were away. We saw your pail and managed to salvage these for you. We saw the Kikos too. You‘ll be pleased to know all the children you rescued made it home, no worse for wear. The elders would like to see you again and have a feast in your honor, Marguerite.”

She took the gems and forlornly gazed down at them. “A feast.” Marguerite whispered, “Of course.”

Roxton and Challenger glanced at one another, troubled, then again at Marguerite.

“Thank you, Ned.“ she murmured, taking the present and once again moved off to her room.

When she was gone Malone said, “That’s not Marguerite’s usual reaction to gems or congratulations. I take it there’s something we should know?”

Challenger explained Marguerite’s memory loss and the ordeal she had been through. “Her memory has returned,” he emphasized, “but there are a few matters she’s still unsure about. Give the lady time and she will be her normal self.” he assured.

Veronica snorted a laugh, "That can be either very good or very bad." 

Ever the observer, Malone said: “Maybe she’s recalling a few things ... memories that were better off lost?” At their silence he then asked, in a lighter tone, "How are the Amazons keeping?"

Roxton replied, “Strong and recommitted.” and left it at that. He then retired to his own room.

An exhausted Challenger promised Veronica and Malone that he would explain further one day.

Much later, when nearly everyone was asleep, Marguerite sat in the darkened common room, two candles lit on the table before her. A cup of coffee rested against her hand. She stared at the cup, engrossed in thought, and did not hear him when he walked up the steps, wearing his usual jodhpurs and a clean, white T-shirt.

Roxton had taken advantage of their shower fifteen minutes before, reveling in what the hot water provided, the way it loosened tight muscles and soothed his sore but mending back. He thought to go straight to bed, allowing the night to jumpstart the healing process, but was distracted by a gentle glow from above.

At first Roxton thought it might be Challenger, tinkering with some infernal contraption, but he could hear the professor in his room, snoring his exhaustion.

When Roxton stepped softly, reaching the top stair, he saw Marguerite and wasn’t exactly surprised. However, he did not call out to her right away. He observed her from the back, the curve of her lovely cheek and the fall of her long, dark hair. She wore a pretty nightgown which was covered by an equally attractive robe. Her head lulled to the side a bit and from this angle he could see her gazing into the candle fire, the woman obviously in deep concentration.

It was not that long ago that he and Marguerite, at least once or twice a week, would stay up later then the others and have coffee. They would merely talk with one another, about the day, often their feelings on any number of subjects and, in some cases, they would speak about what the future might bring.

Marguerite was never very open with her past or possible future, even to him, but she did want to know what Roxton believed. They spoke of politics, entertainment, people they knew and often even of love and desire. The latter topics were not as taboo as they once were. He was happy to give his opinion and hear her bounce off his musings. It was a special time, a closeness they rarely shared with the others, and something he was eager to revive.

Roxton cleared his throat gently and approached the table.

Marguerite turned ever so slightly, acknowledging him. She noted that Roxton had taken a cup, one he had used earlier in the day, which had been sitting on the kitchen sink’s drainer after being washed. He then poured himself some of the brew and rounded the table, sitting directly across from her. He took a sip and gazed at Marguerite, not saying a word but waiting for her to speak what was on her mind.

“Your hair’s wet.” she murmured.

“Took a shower.” he replied, “It felt good.”

“I did the same thing earlier. You’re right. It was very relaxing.”

“Refreshing.” he added.

There was quiet for a moment.

“I was just thinking about a few things.” she said.

Roxton smiled gently, “I can just imagine what they were after the last rough few days you’ve had.”

“No, actually, I’ve come to terms with that.” she said, “It‘s time to move on.“

Roxton nodded. Like himself, Marguerite always bounced back from some of their more ferocious adventures like the champion she was.

“I’ve been looking to the future.”

“Really?”

“If our experience did anything it reminded me of how very vulnerable we are here on the plateau. It’s such a dangerous place, Roxton.”

“Every paradise has its snake. We can and have made do, Marguerite.“

“One day we may not be so lucky. Just ask Summerlee …” she faded. They all wanted to believe that he was alive and well somewhere but that possibility was becoming less and less realistic as the months grew into years.

“We will leave here some day, Marguerite. We‘ll go home.” Roxton assured.

Marguerite had been looking down at her mug and now her eyes raised up to meet his. “You … you’re going to think I’m crazy,” she murmured, “but I’m not so sure I want to go back now.”

Roxton’s eyes widened. No. He did not expect that. As long as they lived here on the plateau Marguerite had wanted to leave. To hear her say she might want to stay was like hearing Challenger say he had no interest in the outside world learning of all his impressive accomplishments.

“It just scares me a little.” she confessed, “I’ve always been my own woman. I’ve never needed anyone. I had convinced myself of it.”

“And now?”

She peeled her eyes from him and looked once again at the candle, “Things have changed.” she said, “Here on the plateau I have love. The real thing I think.”

Roxton smiled, elated, and reached over the table. He took her hand in his. She did not say it aloud often but when she did -- it was superb. “When we get back I plan on making our feelings legitimate. You know that. This isn‘t just a love to be born and die on the plateau, Marguerite.”

“Yes. Now I’m sure you believe that, Roxton. But things have a way of altering in the civilized world. When we get back perhaps I won’t feel the same way …” she started.

Roxton’s content gaze changed to an disturbed stare.

“ … and perhaps you will have changed your mind as well.” Marguerite’s throat tightened as she spoke the words and her eyes closed briefly, struggling with a mental pain that had somehow become physical.

“That will never happen.” Roxton insisted and suddenly, almost delighted by the understanding, realized what might be on Marguerite’s mind, “I am committed, Marguerite.”

“You should be committed.” she whispered with a little of her old, comfortable sarcasm present.

Roxton chuckled and waited, knowing there was more coming.

“Let’s say we get back to London, to Avebury, where you regain your title and estate. You bring me there, a woman who does not know where she comes from, with no discernable past. How will your high society friend, all those Lords and Ladies, take it?”

“Marguerite, we’ve talked about this before. I don’t care what those individuals think. I plan to marry a woman I love -- the only woman I could ever love and marry. And besides,” he added, thinking back to his chums. “you might be surprised. Not all of us are a bad sort. Certainly there are some who are snobbish and far too full of their illustrious pedigrees. But we can laugh at them, Marguerite. After all, if the first knighted Roxton was a blood-thirsty pirate we can also assume that some of their ancestors were not as pristine as they would have the world believe.”

Now, Marguerite softly laughed but it was only briefly, “You’re right about that, of course, but it’s not the only worry I have, Roxton.”

“Then tell me.”

“I’m not sure I want to. I know what you will say but nothing has a guarantee …”

'I don’t trust anyone.' She had said this once, maybe twice, and it sprung to his mind as he watched her sip from her cup. Again, Roxton said nothing, waiting on her. She would speak when she was ready.

“What if we do this thing, Roxton. We get married, with all the bravado that is expected when someone of your station finally makes up his mind on who he‘ll chain himself to. We’ll have an incredible reception, one the society section of the newspapers will talk about for weeks, and all the finest families will have attended. Perhaps even the King of England himself …”

“Sounds like fun.” Roxton commented, dryly.

“And later, when all is said and done, when the “fun” has ended, you discover you made the biggest mistake of your life. Pride would make you stay in the marriage, I know, but to be miserable …”

“I have no intentions of being miserable …“ he started.

“There are still so many things you don’t know about me, Lord Roxton, and what if my past come crashing down on us … It would just be … I don‘t think I could take you hating me.”

“Marguerite, I love you. I‘ve learned things about your complicated life and it doesn‘t make a difference.”

“Eventually it might but even if it didn’t …”

“What?”

“I know what comes naturally to the upper class, Roxton. I’ve seen it. Courtesans and lovers when the flame has gone out. What if you become bored with me? What if I find you‘ve moved on to someone new, fresh and …imaginative.”

The silence between them was utter as they stared at one another. Then Roxton smiled and he could not stop the laugh that parted his lips.

“It’s not funny, Roxton.”

“You will have to forgive me if I think it is.” he chuckled further, “You‘re afraid I might lose interest in you? You‘re insecure about me?”

“You’re a man who has never been married. You’re an adventurer, for God sake, and being bound by someone like me - any woman for that matter - could be very burdensome. Back in England you were a ladies man, Roxton. Everyone knows it. You could come to hate me for what I’ve taken from you … your freedom.” Her fist suddenly came down on the table hard, “Because I wouldn‘t tolerate it, Roxton! I will not allow you to have a mistress. I don‘t care how accepted it is …”

“Marguerite,” His fingers caressed her hand, the one which had been a fist, that had demonstrated anger. The fingers were now growing lax at his soothing touch. His voice was gentle, effectively stilling her as if he had just physically shaken the woman. “I have been looking for someone like you all my life. Don’t believe everything you’ve read or what you might have heard from other men and women about me. My personal life was never …” Now his tone lowered and he looked off, remembering. “I’ve never been in love until I met you, Marguerite. Never. I’ve searched and searched but until the day I first saw you, spoke with you, and later when I learned from you, I did not know what love was. I tried to deny it. We both have. But it’s here to stay.“

Calmed, Marguerite visibly gulped and looked at him through glassy eyes.

He continued, “I plan to live for the rest of my life with you. I will be faithful to you, Marguerite, because there is no way I could be otherwise. You mentioned pride. I have that, yes, but I am also so proud that I have you to hold and love. And, if there is a God and afterlife, I pray we will be together there as well. There could be no Heaven without you. Do you understand? That is how devoted I am to us, Marguerite. Now, off the plateau, and forever. I would never lie about that. You know me and know it‘s true.”

He watched as her expression turned from fear to searching to finally softening into something dazed and nearly apologetic. Roxton knew he had reached her and nothing could give him greater joy. Whatever fears Marguerite had, whatever insecurities existed, were now gone …

Marguerite softly squeezed his hands, which were still wrapped around hers, “It’s getting late.” she whispered, pulling free from him.

“Yeah …” he spoke from deep in his throat, “We should go to bed … to sleep.”

With an inexplicable smile, Marguerite picked up both their cups and placed them near the sink.

Roxton blew out one of the candles and picked up the other. They both walked quietly downstairs.

There was more they needed to say to one another but that could come at a later time.

Unsure, not wanting the press the situation incase he was wrong about her intent, Roxton passed Marguerite in the hall and stood between both their bedrooms. He leaned on the doorframe, brushing the curtain that would allow him entrance to his quarters. “Goodnight, Marguerite. Sleep well.” he said, making a subtle move to enter.

“John,” Marguerite called softly, reaching and pulling gently at the short sleeve of his light undershirt, “Do you really feel sleepy?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow and giving him a warm, seductive look.

“I could sleep.” he said, his tone low and almost hoarse. “Unless a better offer comes my way.” He became aware of how his body was reacting, the heat he was being subjected to, seeing Marguerite in the glow of the orange candlelight and feeling her touch. The dim glow enhanced the hollows of her cheeks and brightened the color of her stormy eyes. It also seemed to cause her nightgown to shimmer and come alive.

Marguerite’s smiled widened then she pursed her lips and dropped her hand from his shirt sleeve. She turned to the door of her bedroom, “Just so you know, I’m not really in the mood for solitude tonight.” she said and entered.

Roxton hesitated briefly and took a breath. It was an invitation he could not refuse even if he wanted to. And no, without a doubt, he certainly did not want to refuse her. Humming “Ode to Joy” Roxton blew out his candle and pushed the curtain aside, entering Marguerite’s room.