Chapter Two:

Taking Marguerite

He parted the curtain and walked inside slowly, the floorboards creaking softly underneath his boots and
careful footfall. He stared. She lay before him in the bed, on her side, her creamy smooth back to him, the long
dark-chocolate colored hair in a fan on her pillow. He sat at the very edge of Marguerite's bed, nearly lifting a
hand to touch her satin soft shoulder, to pull her closer to him and better view that lovely, undisturbed face.

Roxton hesitated, a brief moment of unwanted conscience clouding his judgment. If he did what he intended
tonight there would be no going back. He looked about her bedroom, glancing briefly at the makeup table then
the cherished colorful scarfs hanging from a peg near Marguerite's vanity mirror. She had her clothes, the
skirt and blouse she planned to wear the following day, laid out -folded neatly- on a steamer trunk. Her
possessions. She would have to leave it all behind.

As it always did, her jewelry box rested close to Marguerite on the bedside table. Inside were pearls,
diamonds and any number of valuable gems. But there was one item inside that she treasured most of all.
Roxton stretched forward and lifted the box lid. He moved his fingers around until they found what he was
looking for. More than any of the more expensive baubles Marguerite had gathered over the months it was
this necklace, the heart pendent, she held closest to her soul. A simple silver heart-shaped locket and its
inscription. Roxton read what it said. A well wish from her real mother and father. A declaration of love.
Thoughtfully, looking from the woman to the locket, Roxton slipped the necklace into his shirt pocket and
turned, once again, to she who he coveted.

'She is wearing blue nightgown.' he smiled in thought. The nightdress was supported by thin straps on either
side of her slender shoulders. It buttoned from the low plunge of the bodice clear to the hem of the thin, sleek
garment. It was his favorite. Roxton told her as much when he saw it for the first time three weeks ago. She
had stood before him, sultry and enticing, and he never thought to see a woman so beautiful again. It was a
very shortly after they'd returned from the cave disaster where he and Marguerite learned she could possibly
be the reincarnation of a druid priestess.

Roxton's eyes glanced briefly down at the birthmark on her shoulder. Beautiful, mysterious and exotic just
like her.

They thought they were going to die at that time and made passionate love for the first and what they thought
was going to be the last time. A week later he had gone to see her late at night. The others were away from the
treehouse on various errands, not do back until the following morning. He was surprised she was still awake
and - after a few teases and loving words - Marguerite eagerly welcomed him into her bed. Roxton savored
the reflection, caught up in the memory, and stared down at her now.

Roxton pulled gently at Marguerite's arm and once he saw her face, lighted by a streak of moon-glow, his
action this night mirrored that of three weeks previous. No indecision now. He drew one of the thin straps from
her smooth shoulder and lay his warm lips against the skin. He then followed a gentle line across to her upper
chest. He could feel Marguerite's breath quicken in her sleep and he lifted his head. Her eyelashes fluttered
ever so gently in distress. Roxton smiled and leaned forward, kissing her throat. Then, when he could not wait
a moment longer, he moved further upward and pressed her lips with his own. He captured her sleepy but
aroused sighs in his mouth and nearly gasped with pleasure when she responded. He felt the very tip of her
tongue flicker ever so gently against his lips.

"Roxton ..." Marguerite whispered from deep in her throat. Still slumbering, she knew his touch and the aura
of his longing.

His mouth slipped from hers to lay near her ear. "Come with me, Marguerite." Roxton murmured, "The past
won't matter anymore. I swear."

The passion in his voice seem to strike a chord in the dark beauty. Her eyes slowly flickered open, "John?"
she questioned in the semi darkness, "Is that you?"

"You were expecting Challenger?" he asked softly, sweetened humor in his tone.

For a moment she thought his eyes glowed red in the darkness. "But you're not supposed to be back for
another three or four days ..." she said, still groggy and confused.

"Complaining, Marguerite?"

"No ... not exactly." There was a paused as she waited for his explanation. She felt his hand lift from her arm
and stroke her hair. Marguerite felt warmed yet strangely nervous at his touch. "Did you go on the hunt?"
she finally asked, "Was it all Jarl said it would be?"

"We became the hunted." Roxton whispered cryptically and felt the woman stiffen by his side. "I have so
much to tell you but not now ..."

"Are you all right?" Marguerite asked in a disquieted voice, slightly alarmed.

"Never better, darling. Never." Then his lips touched her shoulder once again, caressing her, and he
whispered: "I want to make love to you. Let me."

Marguerite could feel the heat radiating from his body as his arms eagerly enfolded her. 'This isn't right.'
Marguerite didn't quite know why but she began to understand as Roxton, in a nearly ignoble manner, lay on
top of her, pinning her slender body to the bed with his own. His mouth then came down on hers, moist and
hard, and she felt as if the breath were being drawn from her body. "No ... no ..." she nearly whimpered,
unsure and afraid yet also strangely excited. He was holding her possessively now. It ignited both anger and
desire, stirring Marguerite's blood yet making her dizzy with doubt. Regardless, she knew this wasn't the way
it should be. Roxton wasn't asking, unlike her kind and gentlemanly lover, he was demanding. "John ..."
Marguerite gulped, trying to push him away. "Don't." she nearly pleaded, "Why are you doing this? What are
you ...?"

Then the eyes, shining a bright fiery red in the darkness, as he looked down upon her, were alive with animal
lust and Marguerite felt an unimaginable terror. No, not unimaginable because she had felt something very
close to it nearly three years ago when he had come to her while she and the men were camped in unfamiliar
territory. He had been bitten ...

Suddenly panicked and fully conscious, Marguerite grasped the front of Roxton's shirt and pulled, popping the
two top buttons near his collar. A shaft of moonlight crossed his skin and she could see three very faint bite
marks on Roxton's neck and shoulder. Human teeth. "Roxton!" Marguerite cried, striking out at him and
wrestling to get away.

He clamped one of his hands over her mouth and listened intently over a shoulder. His highly sensitized
instincts were telling him at least two in the treehouse stirred because of the outcry but neither had been fully
awakened. Roxton hadn't really thought about Marguerite alerting their friends to his intrusion. If they
interfered he'd be forced to kill them and he really didn't want that. Roxton looked down once again at
Marguerite, noting the fear and tears in her eyes as she struggled. "Sh." he implored, "I'll take you
someplace where we can talk."

She said something underneath his palm but it was unintelligible.

Slowly, Roxton brought up the fingers on his other hand and placed it where his reason and years of university
study told him it would do the most good. He pushed the pressure point at Marguerite's throat and watched as
she slowly began to lose perception. "It's okay, my love, it's okay." his voice cuddled as he watched her
lashes flutter close, "You will forgive me for this one day. I know you will." He kissed her forehead as she
grew lax.

With purpose, Roxton moved away from the bed then, coming to a decision, picked the unconscious
Marguerite up in his arms. Silently, he walked to the balcony, rearranged her position in his embrace. With
new found acrobatic skills Roxton began to descend the tree with the woman swaying gently over his shoulder.

Finzure watched from below, having never moved from the spot where Roxton told him to stand. When his
master approached with the woman he asked, "Is she?"

"No." Roxton said, "But soon."

They walked, retracing the way they had come.

****