cause Im desperate to tell people "Ive got mail."
"Witch! Witch! Burn the Witch," cried the large mob. Many carried lit torches and rifles.
A terrified teenage girl stood tied to a wooden post surround by shooting flames of red. Her long, golden hair blew about her face while tears stained her pale face. "Please, I'm not a witch," she pleaded. Seeking out, her brown eyes found them. "Mother, Father, please, make them stop!" she cried.
Yet her own parents turned from her.
Giving up, she allowed the flames to consume her, to claim her. The searing pain of boiling skin was nothing compared to what her heart felt when her parents closed themselves to her.
********
"Haven't we been walking enough?" pleaded heiress Marguerite Krux. Locks of raven silk stuck to her neck and face. The heat had become nearly unbearable in the midday and she was ready to collapse.
Lord John Roxton stopped ahead of her. Beads of sweat ran down his temples. "I suppose we could rest for awhile." He turned to her, smiling.
"What?" Self-consciously she pushed her hair out of her face.
Taking a few steps closer. "Nothing."
"Roxton, what?" she whined.
When she looked at him with those mysterious gray-green eyes of hers, he could deny her nothing. "You look beautiful."
"Yeah," she laughed. "I'm sure I'm ready to be crowned Queen."
Suddenly John curtseyed before her. When he stood up their eyes met and they both burst out laughing.
"I think the heat's getting to us," she said.
"I believe you may be right. Let's see if we can find a stream or at least some good shade."
Throwing her head back, she moaned. "I don't think I can walk a step further."
"I could always carry you," Roxton grinned.
Her eyes filled with mischief. "You could, but you're looking a little worn yourself."
Stepping to within inches of her, his brown eyes bore into hers. "Why Miss Krux, is that a challenge?"
Feeling her face burn with flush, she stood her ground. "No. I'd hate to have to drag you back to the treehouse after you pass out from overexerting yourself."
"Insinuating something?"
She grinned. "No. Just don't know if an old man like yourself would be able to handle it."
That was it for him. Before she could react, he had swept her up in his arms and held her tightly.
"John!" she squealed. "Put me down!"
"I'm sorry, this old man just can't do that." Pressing his lips to hers, he felt her body relax as she willingly returned the kiss.
"Help me!"
Roxton nearly dropped Marguerite. They stood back-to-back, guns drawn.
"Where'd it come from?" asked Marguerite.
"Help!" The voice sounded to be that of a young girl and full of terror.
"This way," he yelled, running towards the jungle, with Marguerite right behind.
They stopped just inside the tree line and looked around.
"Help me, please," cried a teenage girl running straight at them. Her clothes were dirt-covered and torn. "They want to kill me."
Upon hearing what sounded like a herd of raptors running towards them, Roxton pushed the girl to Marguerite, who stood in front of her.
Roxton and Marguerite stood ready to shoot whatever was coming their way.
"Please, we have to go," pleaded the girl tugging at Marguerites arm. "They won't care that you are strangers. You are helping me so they will kill you too."
Roxton looked at the girl then at Marguerite. "Let's go then."
"Burn the witch!" They heard as the trio ran to another part of the jungle.
After what seemed like hours, they stopped. The cries of the mob behind them had subsided long ago.
"Now, do you care to tell us what that was all about?" demanded Marguerite, panting for air.
"They believe me to be a witch," the girl confessed.
Marguerite rolled her eyes. "Here we go again," she mumbled.
"Again?" the girl asked.
"Nothing." She turned to Roxton. "What now? More spells?"
Fear filled the girls eyes. "Are you-you both would be?"
Roxton smiled. "No, were not witches. Whats your name?"
"Anna."
"Well, Anna, it didn't sound like you could go back there, so why don't you come with us?"
The terrified girl looked over at Marguerite, who smiled at her.
"It's alright. We aren't witches or anything. We're perfectly harmless."
After a moment's hesitation, Anna nodded and followed them.
**********
"We're going to have to find shelter," Roxton told the others. "It's almost dark and those clouds are definitely threatening rain."
"I saw a small cave a short ways back," offered Marguerite.
"Then back we go."
Anna had remained silent during the last few hours.
"Are you alright?" Roxton put down his pack, but held the gun.
"Yes."
"Are you sure?" he prodded.
"Roxton, let her be," Marguerite gently urged. "She's been through a lot."
His confused look told her what he was thinking and, through her eyes, she told him she would discuss it later.
Having found the cave to be unoccupied, they set up a small fire, ate, and settled in. Heavy rain pounded the ground just beyond the caves mouth and a strong wind swirled in through the opening.
Having already sacrificed her blanket along with Roxton's to Anna, Marguerite sat leaning against the wall, shivering. She glanced over at Anna, realizing the girl could not be more than fourteen or fifteen years old. Smiling, Marguerite thought back to when she had been that age. She had already been well on her way of becoming one of the best jewel thieves London had ever seen. Part of her missed the excitement the rush - of the challenge and the chase. She looked at Roxton returning with more wood for the fire and realized a bigger part of her was happy that those days were well behind her.
"We could share body heat," he said, sitting beside her and sliding an arm around her, pulling her close to him.
"Haven't we tried that a few times before?" she asked, looking up into his eyes.
He smiled at her. "Yes, I do believe we have."
"And it always ends badly."
Tightening his hold on her, he looked outside. "It's raining, we're in a cave, I don't see what could happen." He then glanced over at Anna.
"What about her?" Marguerite asked, her eyes following his gaze.
"I don't know. Surely her parents will be worried."
"And what if they're not?"
His eyes met hers. "What parent wouldn't be worried about their child?"
"Mine never were," she mumbled.
"You deserved better," he whispered to her.
Giving him a grateful smile, she continued. "If her village is on some sort of witch hunt then odds are her parents are not going to help her."
He sighed and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Then I'm sure we could make some more room at the treehouse."
Marguerite chuckled. "Our family just keeps getting bigger and bigger."
Placing a light kiss on her forehead, he asked, "It could get even bigger someday."
With widened eyes she looked up at him.
"I was just thinking that-well..."
"They're in here!" came a shout that echoed throughout the cave.
"See, it always ends badly," murmured Marguerite, jumping up along with Roxton.
"They found us," Anna cried. "I knew they would. They'll burn me at the stake."
"Nobody's burning anybody," Marguerite told her, holding her position next to Roxton, their guns ready to fire at anyone who dared entered.
Anna stepped up to them. "I'll go. There's no reason for all of us to die. It's me they want." Tears filled her blue eyes as she started for the opening.
Roxton grabbed her arm. "You're not going anywhere. Marguerite was right, nobody's going to burn at the stake."
"But-"
"No point arguing with him," Marguerite told her with a smile.
The light from the mobs torches grew brighter.
"I swear when we get back to London sharing body heat will never end badly again," Roxton told her with a gleam in his eye.
"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure something will happen. Maybe the druids will come for us or something," she grinned.
With that, the first of the mob appeared.
"We only want the girl," a tall, angry man stated, his eyes fixed on Anna.
"For what purpose?" asked Roxton.
"She is a witch," cried a shorter woman.
"Mother! I am not a witch." Anna stood behind Marguerite, shaking. "Please, Mother, Father, you have to believe me."
Marguerite glared at the couple. "You are her parents?"
The father nodded. "A curse bestowed on us for some past sin I'm sure."
"Well, funny thing is, you can't have her," hissed Marguerite.
Another man, the apparent leader, stepped forward. "She protects the witch. She must be one too."
"Again?" Marguerite sighed. "How many more times do I have to be accused of that?"
"She is a witch!" cried Anna's mother.
The leader's attention went to Roxton. "And you, sir, what are you?"
"We are explorers who got stranded here, only trying to find a way home. Nobody here is a witch or otherwise." He tightened his hold on the rifle, ready to fight their way out if need be.
But the leader turned to the crowd of twenty. "They have weapons of the Devil," he proclaimed. "They, too, must be tried."
Members of the crowd moved forward to take them. Roxton and Marguerite shot four of them dead before they were overpowered.
***********
Marguerite paced around the small cell. Roxton sat on the dirt floor watching her. "Why don't you sit down?" he said, patting the spot next to him.
"How can you take this so lightly?" She stopped and stared at him. "We're going to be burned here. Alive. Not going to be pleasant."
In spite of her words, Roxton could see the fear that flickered in her eyes. He got up and went to her. "We always get out of these things. You know that. I'm sure that Veronica, Malone, and Challenger are on their way looking for us now."
"They were going to the other side of the plateau. Even if they did think something was wrong it would take them days to get here." Her eyes began to water. "This is it."
Pulling her into a hug, he shook his head. "No it's not. We have too much to finish. We'll think of something."
She shivered in his grasp so he pulled her closer.
"What were you trying to say back in the cave?" she asked.
He pulled back. "That I...Marguerite" Holding her eyes with his own, he smiled slightly. "I want-"
"NO!"
"Anna!" Marguerite broke free from Roxton and ran to the barred window. "ANNA!" she screamed out.
The child was surrounded by fire. "I'm not a witch," she pleaded, just like her friend had done a few days back. "Please!"
Roxton ran up behind Marguerite.
"She's only a child," Marguerite cried. She pulled at the iron bars but they would not budge. "We have to stop them!" She began to pound on the bars, even as the rough iron gouged her skin.
Roxton grabbed hold of her wrists, pulling her hands away before they became more bloodied.
She struggled against him before finally settling back against him as his arms wrapped around her. Leaning against his chest, she allowed him to be her strength. "She's only a child," she whispered one last time.
"I know." A few tears escaped his own eyes and he had to turn away so as not to watch what was occurring outside.
Later that night, the leader came to see him. Both were sitting on the floor. Marguerite, having cried herself to sleep hours earlier, rested against Roxton. He'd used his own shirttail to wipe her hands clean of blood, and they rested, raw and red, in her lap.
"You will have your trial tomorrow," the leader told Roxton. "She the following day."
Had he not wanted to disturb Marguerite, Roxton would have run to the cell door and reached out for the man, but instead he sat. "What do we have to do to prove we're not witches?"
"Doesn't matter now," the man stated. "You were both protecting the witch."
"She was a child!"
Marguerite stirred and sat up, immediately glaring at the man.
"She was evil and needed to be cleansed of the demons."
"You murdered her," Marguerite spat. She, however, did run to the door, meeting the man face to face. "You murdered an innocent child!"
He reached through the bars and slapped her across the face.
Roxton jumped up and within two strides had the man's arm in his hand pulling it through the bars. "You touch her again and I'll kill you myself."
"You'll be dead tomorrow anyway, so it won't matter." The leader sneered, sending a lustful look at Marguerite. "You, however, may be spared. If you are willing to redeem yourself of your wicked ways to the crowd."
"In your dreams," she snarled, her hand covering the bruise on her cheek.
"Oh it will be." He walked out, slamming the door behind him.
"Are you alright?" Roxton asked, removing Marguerite's hand from her face. He grimaced at the forming purple tint to her cheek. Placing a feather-soft kiss on her bruise he looked at her. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't do this," she said, turning from him. "So this is it." She waved her arms around the room. "This is how it all ends."
Roxton opened his mouth but realized there was nothing to say. Here was the woman he had silently sworn in his heart to protect and he had failed. She had the bruise to prove it. So many dreams he had wanted to share with her. The children they would watch grow.
"Marry me?"
Marguerite whirled around. "Wh-what?"
Walking over to her, he bent down on one knee before her. "Will you marry me?"
She laughed.
"Not quite the reaction I had expected," said Roxton, still on bended knee.
"You're asking me the night before we're going to die."
He stood up and held her face in his hands. "What I was going to say in the cave..."
Slowly she nodded.
"I love you, Marguerite Krux. And I was going to tell you that when we got back to London I'd never let you go. I wanted us to grow old together, spoil our grandchildren, get a dog." He smiled.
"You're serious, aren't you?"
He nodded. Her eyes searched his, so wide and intense that he felt himself drowning in their depths.
"In spite of everything you know about me? My past is not a good one, John. You might not want-"
He cut off her words my placing his hand over her mouth. "No, not in spite of everything, love. Because of everything. It's made you who you are. And you are special, Marguerite. No one has ever been in my heart like you, and I love you. All of you. I've never been more serious about anything in my life."
She smiled, a brilliant smile that made his breath catch in his throat.
"Yes."
His head tilted. "To?"
"Ill marry you, John Roxton." She jumped into his arms and kissed him. Breaking the kiss, she looked straight into his eyes and said, "I love you, John."
He kissed her again.
That night they sat in the corner holding onto each other. Between the tears and the kisses they both knew that somehow, even in death, they'd always be together.
************
Roxton woke with a start only to find Marguerite staring up at him.
"We're not going to get out of here, are we?" she asked.
"Nothing like positive thinking to start the day, Marguerite." He kissed her softly.
"How can you act like nothing's wrong?"
"Because the woman I love said yes to me."
As hard as she tried, she couldnt stop the smile reaching her face. "How long do you think we have until your trial?"
He shrugged and leaned in closer. "Don't know, but we could make the most of it."
"And what would you be thinking?" she whispered.
"Oh, I dont know..."
Hearing the clanging of metal keys, Marguerite groaned. "Not now, please."
"It'll be alright, Marguerite."
They stood up. Two guards approached, one unlocking the door, while the leader stood behind them.
"It is time for your trial."
One guard took hold of Roxton's arm and pulled him out.
"What about me?" asked Marguerite.
"Youre trial is tomorrow, my dear." The leader stared at her as they locked the door once again. "Unless you wish to plead your case to me privately."
"You stay away from her." Roxton struggled against the guard. The second guard punched him in the stomach and he double over.
"John!"
"Take him outside." The leader turned to Marguerite. "I'll be back for your decision later."
In tears, she sank to the floor.
************
Hours had gone by and Marguerite had heard nothing. Every now and again she had gotten up to look out the window but there was no one around.
"John, where are you?" Her spoken words choked on her tears.
She jumped, her heart raced, when she suddenly heard shouts of "Witch! Witch!" She saw them dragging Roxton to a stake surrounded by piles of wood.
"NO! ROXTON!" she shouted.
He turned to her, hearing her screams. "I love you," he mouthed.
Tugging at the bars, which became blurred through her tears, she cursed under her breath in between shouting out to him.
"HE'S INNOCENT!" She screamed.
The townspeople lowered their torches to the woodpile.
"NO!" Marguerite screamed again, still tugging on the window bars, praying that somehow they would loosen enough for her to get through. "Please," she whispered. "Come on!"
The flames were closing in on Roxton. His eyes were fixed on Marguerite struggling to escape from the cell.
With one strong, urgent, desperate tug, the bars began to shake.
"Thank you." She continued to pull on them while keeping an eye on Roxton, ignoring the pain as the old wounds opened and new ones etched themselves on her skin. He was biting his lower lip, biting back his screams of pain. She knew he was doing it for her. Finally she was able to get one of the bars off, followed quickly by the rest. Long ago she had blocked out the mad cries of the crowd. "Hang on, John." Within moments, she had squeezed through the tiny opening and was running towards Roxton.
His sweat-dampened hair clung to him while Roxton felt the rubber of his boots melting beneath him, melting to him. He had closed his eyes, his last vision of Marguerite struggling against the bars. Intense heat was consuming him.
"ROXTON!"
A smile reached his lips. How wonderful the last thing to hear was her voice.
"Get out of my way!" Marguerite growled to the crowd. The anger in her eyes frightened many into believing her capable of casting a spell on them right then and there so they stepped aside.
"Roxton?"
His eyes opened and he swore he saw her standing just on the other side of the flames. "I love you, sweetheart. Always."
"Then prove it to me, stay alive!"
"You have your own trial tomorrow," the leader said, approaching her.
She reached down and grabbed a branch that was on fire, aiming it right at him. "Come any closer and you will know the pain you've been giving others." Jaw tightened, she fought her way through the fire to Roxton's side. "John? Can you hear me?" She tried desperately to ignore the pain and heat.
"Mmmm, its awfully hot in heaven," he murmured.
"You're not there yet," she said, struggling to untie him. "Work with me here." Sweat glistened on her face from the surrounding fire. "Roxton, please," she cried.
His eyes opened. After a moment it sunk it. "Marguerite? What are you doing here?!"
"Trying to save your life." With that she tugged one last time on the rope and it fell from him. Swatting at her smoldering skirt, she dragged Roxton through the flames.
A crowd surrounded them.
"Back off," she growled at them, holding Roxton up.
But there were too many for her to fend off alone. Roxton was near unconsciousness. Some members of the mob took her, leaving Roxton passed out on the ground, and dragged her to the inferno.
"NO!" she screamed. "Let me go!"
"Someone must die today," the leader told her. "You're friend will follow you tomorrow."
She spat on him.
With fire reflecting in his dark, cold eyes, he said, "Tie her up and throw her in."
Marguerite struggled and fought against her captors. "If you truly believe I'm a witch I'll cast a spell on you none of you will forget if you don't let me go," she threatened.
The men holding her stopped and looked at each other.
The crowd silenced.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" the leader growled to his followers.
But the two men let go of Marguerite. She stood still for a second before running over to Roxton and pulling him up from the ground.
"You're letting her go?" cried the leader.
"She will kill us," came the fearful replies of the crowd.
"She is a witch! We must remove this evil from the world!" he told them.
Marguerite, meanwhile, had managed to get Roxton somewhat conscious and, together, they ran off into the jungle, never looking back.
************
Darkness began to settle in, so Roxton and Marguerite had found a well-isolated place for the night. Roxton had been slipping in and out of consciousness for the last few hours and it worried Marguerite. Settling him down against a tree, she sat beside him.
"John?" She kissed his cheek then moved down to work on removing his melted boots. Tears filled her eyes upon seeing they had melted directly to his skin. "I am so sorry, John. I should have gotten out sooner."
"You did the best you could," came a very hoarse reply.
She looked up and smiled at him, crawling back up to his side. "Thought I was going to have to set up camp by myself."
"Would I do that to you?" He coughed and struggled to get up but was held down.
"Not this time. You need to get rest and I-" She glanced down at his boots. "I'm going to have to..."
He nodded. "Whatever you have to do, do it." A shiver passed through him.
"I have to remove your boots first in case of infection."
His eyes locked with hers. "I trust you."
With a hesitant smile, Marguerite took out a knife and preceded to cut the material away from his as gently as she could, closing her eyes each time she heard him muffle a cry of pain.
When all the material had been removed, she sighed a sigh of relief and crawled back up to him. "It's not as bad as it looked. Your pants and socks protected you from any serious burns."
He glanced at her hands, and gently brought them to his lips, placing soft kisses on the raw weals. "Are you OK? You did come through the fire, and your hands..."
She shook her head and withdrew her hands. "They'll be fine. They're not bleeding, and I cleaned them by a stream we passed. I was more concerned with you. But it looks like you'll just be limping for a couple of days, thats all."
"So you'll still love me?" His eyes twinkled.
But her face became serious and she reached out, taking his face in her hands. "Always."
"Good, because I believe you agreed to marry me."
"Uh, John..."
His heart pounded. She had changed her mind. She had only been caught up in the moment. "Are you backing out on me?"
Hesitating briefly, she responded, "No. I just do we have to wait until we get back to London?" Her face lit up with a huge smile.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes."
"But I wanted to give you the biggest, most beautiful wedding-"
She silenced him with a kiss. "I don't need that. Had that." Looking at him, she continued, "As long as its you it doesn't matter where we are or how many people are there. Besides, I think everyone we care most about are right here on this plateau with us."
Roxton tangled his fingers through her hair. "I think you're right. We'll let them know tomorrow when we get back. Now, about that fire..."
She smiled, mere centimeters from his lips. "Oh, I think that's already taken care of."
He returned her smile as their lips met with the anticipation of a new life ahead of them.
The End
