Ann grinned. "Good girl!"

Margo chuckled. "It was easy. The four of 'em who were guys were drooling all over themselves for an excuse to talk to me." She rolled her eyes. "Men,."

The stab of white-hot jealousy that shot through him stunned Malcolm. Margo glanced up quickly. She must have felt his hand twitch, because she said, "You all right, Malcolm?"

"Fine," he lied. Just what do these so-called paleontologists look like? He studied the incoming uptimers, but there were so many, he wasn't sure which group they might belong to.

Margo squeezed his hand. "Hey. Malcolm. They were boring."

The way her eyes sparkled when she smiled made his insides go hot and cold. "Really?" There, that had come out reasonably steady. Buck up, man, as Kit says. She hasn't said no yet.

Margo flounced as only Margo could. Malcolm followed the movement with a tortured gaze. She added, "Hah! Their fossils would've been more interesting! I Just wanted a peek at their rifles."

Kit laughed. -Malcolm, I'd say you just won your standing bet, eh?"

Margo colored delicately. "I wouldn't say that. The time limit on that bet ran out ages ago."

Malcolm sighed. "Well, there are' other ways of getting your life's story, I suppose."

"Hmm. We'll just have to see how creative you are, Mr. Moore." But she squeezed his fingers.

"At least," Kit said, eyeing them askance, "you seem to be picking up your American history nicely. Maybe Malcolm's idea wasn't such a bad one, after all."

"Malcolm's idea," Malcolm growled, "was supposed to be Malcolm's surprise."

Margo just looked up at him, wide-eyed. "You planned a surprise for me?"

Heat rose into his face. "Yeah. And Grandpa's doing his damndest to spoil it."

"Got a bet on?" Margo asked suspiciously.

"Not me," Malcolm sighed. "But I wouldn't be surprised if Kit does."

"Kit and everyone else in La-La Land," Ann said

"Mind if you have company for dinner, or is this a family affair?"

Margo blushed. "Uh, would you mind if we had lunch tomorrow, instead?"

"Not at all." Ann had to reach up slightly to ruffle Margo's hair. "Imp. It's good to have you home."

She strolled off with a backward wave.

Kit rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh, have some things I have to take care of ..."

"So soon?" Margo wailed.

He glanced at Malcolm. "I think Malcolm wants you to himself for a while. Grandpa can wait. But not long," he added with a fierceness in his voice that his playful smile could not quite disguise.

She hugged him tightly. "Promise."

Kit kissed the top of her head, then gently disentangled himself. "Dress up pretty for dinner, okay?"

"I will."

He ruffled her hair much the way Ann had, then left Malcolm alone with her. Malcolm swallowed hard, finding his throat suddenly dry. "Did you, uh, want to catch a bite to eat first?"

Margo's green eyes smoldered. "I'm starving. But not for food. C'mon, Malcolm. It's me. Margo.

He ventured a tentative smile. "That therapy of yours seems to have helped."

She grinned. "Yeah, the rape counselor I've been seeing is good. She's helped unkink me a whole lot. But I like being in your arms better." Without warning, those smoldering eyes filled with tears and she threw her arms around him. "God, I've missed you! My head aches with everything that horrid school stuffs into it! I want you to hold me and tell me I'll get through this."

"Hey, what happened to my little fire eater?"

Wetness soaked through his shirt. "She got lonely"

Had any uptime boys comforted her during that loneliness? Malcolm hoped not. "My place is this way," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her. "We, uh, have a lot to talk about."

"Yeah?" She brightened and sniffed back tears. "Like what?"

"Oh, lots of stuff." They caught an elevator for Malcolm's floor. "Goldie and Skeeter are in the middle of a wager, for one. Whichever of them scams the most in a month-and Goldie can't use her knowledge of rare coins and gems-gets to stay in La-La Land. The other one has to leave."

Margo's eyes widened. "You're kidding? That's a serious wager!" Then she grinned, evilly. "Any way we can help Skeeter?'

"I thought you hated him!"

Margo laughed, green eyes wicked as any imp newly-arrived from Hell's own furnace. "I do. But Goldie deserves worse than what we gave her. Lots worse." The steel in her voice reminded Malcolm of his favorite poet: But when hunter meets with husband, each confirms the other's tale:

The female of the species is more deadly than the male ... .

"Huh. Remind me never to get on your wrong side, young lady." The memory of those terrible days in Rome, searching for her, were almost more than he could bear. Margo's squeeze on his hand said a great deal more than her eyes, and they spoke of a pain and longing that hurt Malcolm like a physical blow. His faltering hopes began to regain their feet.

Sven Bailey had left Margo's luggage in the "lock-me-tight" mail bin outside each Resident's apartment. Malcolm unlocked the bin, rescuing Margo's cases, then opened his door and ushered her inside.

"You've redecorated! Wow! You actually have furniture!"

Malcolm shrugged. "A little money never hurts."

Margo laughed. "Don't be upset with me, Malcolm. I know it's my fault I nearly got us killed, but see. Something good did come of it." She swept a grand gesture at the room, nearly knocking over a lamp. "Whoops! Sorry."

That was his Margo, all right. But would she be his Margo?

"I, uh, had a little something, I, uh, that is ..."

"Malcolm," she took both his hands in her own, "what is it? It's me. The addle-brained brat you had to rescue off a Portuguese witch-burning pyre. You're actually shaking! What's wrong?"

He stared into those bottomless green eyes, filled now with worry and even the beginnings of fear. When she reached up and brushed her lips across his, he felt something inside his soul melt. If she said no ...

"It's okay, Malcolm. Whatever it is. Just tell me."

No more stalling, he thought grimly. Then he fumbled in a pocket for the little velvet box. "I, uh, went uptime for a little vacation, had this made for you."

She opened the box curiously, then went absolutely white.

"Malcolm?" Her voice wavered. So did those luminous green eyes.

"Will you?" he whispered.

An agony of indecision passed across her heart-shaped face, causing Malcolm's heart to cease beating.

"Malcolm, you know my heart-my whole soul's set on scouting," she whispered. "You, you wouldn't object?"

He cleared his throat. "Only unless you objected to my coming along."

Her eyes widened. "But"

"I thought it was high time I got over being a coward."

Margo was suddenly in his arms, crying and kissing him at the same time. "Don't ever say that! Do you hear me, Malcolm Moore? Never, ever say that!"

An Irish alley-cat glare he knew so well transformed her adorable, heart-shaped face as the eyebrows dove together and green eyes smoldered. "He does, does he? Am I the only one on this station who didn't know I was getting married?"

Malcolm rubbed his nose in embarrassment. "Well, uh, you know La-La Land."

"Do I ever." But the look in her eyes softened. "Margo Moore. I like the sound of that."

The sound of his name linked with hers did strange things to Malcolm's blood chemistry. The light in the room dimmed. "So ... How's Denver sound for the honeymoon? I've got tickets ... ."

Margo's kisses were enough to drive a sane man over the brink. When they came up for air, Margo breathed against his lips, "Sounds perfect. Now stop stalling, Malcolm Moore, and take me to bed!"

He carried her there, long dress trailing, without another word spoken. He was afraid the brutal violations she had suffered at the hands of those damnable Portuguese traders would somehow raise a barrier between them that neither could overcome. But the softness and passion he remembered so well from Rome redoubled in the silence of his bedroom, sending Malcolm nearly out of his mind with the need to touch and cuddle and bring joy where she had suffered so much pain. After their loving came to a shuddering, reluctant end, Margo cried again, nearly as hard as she had that terrible day in Rome. But this time instead of running, she clung to him and let him comfort her with silly, nonsensical words meant to reassure. Evidently they did, because she fell asleep cradled against the hollow of his shoulder, tear trails streaking her cheeks and his bare skin. Malcolm kissed her hair and marveled, wondering if she would ever trust enough to share her mind as she had come to trust sharing her body.