"Shall we stop there?"
"Have we another choice?"
It was Isaac's turn to pause. "The choice is up to you, Vashon. It's your head they want there, not mine. I'm perfectly willing to see if we can make it to St. Kitts."
Vashon shook his head. "If it were just the crew, perhaps, but we've two women on board. We can't risk their lives if we run out of water. I'll take a look at the map and see if there's another route." He turned and went to retrieve his shirt.
Left alone, Isaac seemed reluctant to turn his eyes to Vashon's bed. But when he did, he looked almost dismayed to find it empty. As if to be sure, he held up his lamp and let the light spill into the corner.
"Do you think I tossed her overboard?" Vashon gave a cursory smile when he returned to the door.
"Of course not," Isaac replied grumpily and lowered the lamp. "But where is she?"
Vashon nodded to the dark recess of his cabin where his bureau sat. Aurora was slumped over it, her red-gilt head delicately resting on her forearms.
Seeing her, Isaac almost roared with laughter. When he took in Vashon's scowl, he looked as if he might burst.
"Are you ready?" Vashon commented dryly.
"By all means." Isaac coughed, giving Aurora's sleeping figure a last glance.
"I'll join you in the fo'c'sle in a minute."
Isaac nodded with mock solemnity. He chuckled and left the cabin.
Once more in darkness, Vashon turned to Aurora. The shadowy luminescence of moonlight poured over her like fairy dust and gave her figure an ethereal quality. She breathed softly, deeply, in the pagan rhythm of sleep, and he appeared drawn to her as a child is drawn to the dark of the woods in hope of finding magic.
He walked over to the bureau and bent to her still form. Without waking her, he gently lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed.
"This is becoming a habit, little wren," he murmured before he placed her on the mattress. In response to his voice, she restlessly rolled to her side and grasped the counterpane. He bent down and pulled a lock of her hair away from her face. Then, slowly, he kissed her lips.
The kiss was brief and chaste, but still it seemed to surprise him. He looked as if he done it much against his will, and worse, his better judgment. His face hardened and he looked pensive. Standing, he gazed down at her for a long moment, not caring that it was dark and that she was in shadows.
"What kind of woman are you, Aurora Dayne?" he whispered. Appearing as if he did not like the answer, he took a deep breath and ran his hand agitatedly over his jaw. He quit the cabin, looking almost relieved to be going.
In the darkness Aurora briefly opened her eyes and saw the shadowy retreating back. She heard the thump of the closing door and once more drifted back into slumber, her dreams calling to her like angels.
Again she dreamed of Vashon. But this time the details took her breath away. She saw long black hair barely tamed by a queue and a small silver ear hoop that gleamed wickedly in the hot Caribbean sun. She saw teeth that flashed white in a fleeting and rare smile, and a face that was as tragic as it was stunningly handsome.
She dreamed he was the dragon.
From his expression it was clear he didn't trust people; he didn't trust her. But that didn't stop her from imagining what it would be like to touch him, to smell him, to feel him beside her. In her dream she desperately sought what she knew she couldn't have in real life. She wanted his every physical detail, and what she couldn't or wouldn't allow herself to picture, she didn't miss, because as if dreams had a sixth sense, she knew without a doubt those details were there anyway and as tangible as if she held them in her hands.
She was the slayer.
It was an impossible task. The dragon held Vashon so tightly she couldn't tell him from the serpent. Her insides warred to keep her from killing, but she was compelled to save him. The beast had him by the throat, and if she didn't rid him of this raging monster, he'd be destroyed.
She took her broadsword and aimed it at the dragon's back. Yet when she thrust, the dragon disappeared.
She searched everywhere for it, but it was gone. Her dream shifted and Vashon appeared, but in terror she wasn't sure how to tell him from the dragon. Instinctively she moved back from his reach; he took her anyway. His arms came around her like hot-tempered steel, and though she pushed against them, there was no escape. She was his.
He kissed her.
As if his tongue were flames, his kiss burned clear to her toes. She fought valiantly, but already her body had begun a traitorous surrender. She longed to be set free, yet everywhere she turned, his scent, like the damp scent of the wind before a storm, beckoned her back into his embrace. His touch, his nearness, his very masculinity brought her nerves to a singing, fevered pitch. Against her will her body responded in ways she hadn't even known it could. The promise of pleasure built and built until it seemed impossible to deny. Finally when his warm, strong hand scorched her breast, she could endure it no more. She cried out his name; he melted her in one sweet breathless moan. Her release came with such exquisite force, she awoke nearly weeping.
The dragon had won.
Sobbing and panicking, Aurora sat bolt upright. In the first few seconds of wakefulness she could barely comprehend what had happened to her. Never before had she had a dream so vivid that her entire body had participated against her will. In dismay she could feel a wetness between her thighs, and when her hand moved to her forehead, it was covered with perspiration. Unnerved and disoriented, she brushed the clinging red-gold tendrils of hair out of her eyes and looked down. Her hand was twisting a sheet and Vashon's scent was everywhere. Somehow during her sleep she'd been brought to his bed. The cabin was empty now, but the pillow next to her was still warm. He hadn't been gone long.
She looked down at her dress and nervously adjusted the apron front. Her hands were shaking, so she had a difficult time repinning her pins. Had he slept next to her? Had he touched her during the night? Was that why she had had the dream?
Her face paled and she thought again about the dream. While she calmed herself she became even more appalled. What was wrong with her that just dreaming of Vashon could elicit such a strong response from her? Thinking about it again, she could already feel her cheeks grow red. She wasn't quite sure what had happened to her, but she was terribly glad she was alone.
A knock sounded on the door and she leaped from the bed. She ran her fingers through the tangles in her hair, then sheepishly said, "Come in."
Benny popped his head through the door with Koonga hanging on to him like a necklace. Aurora was amazed that she'd been so deep in her thoughts that she hadn't even heard the telltale scrape of his peg leg coming down the passage.
"I've your breakfast, miss." He watched her warily as if he'd heard her and Vashon fighting last evening. With a stab of shame she looked over to where the shattered foo lion and crystal goblets lay in the corner. He looked there too and became even more wary. Nervously he placed the heavy silver tray down on the writing desk where she had begun her sleep. Koonga, sensing her master's nervousness, sent out a shrill scream.
"Vashon says you may venture abovedecks this morning, miss. Whenever you choose to go," he said above the din.
Distracted, she only nodded.
"Is everything all right, miss?"
A look of concern came over the boy's pleasant features. Already she could feel the color rising in her cheeks. It was impossible for him to know what had happened to her in her sleep, but somehow she felt he did know. In fact, the way she felt at the moment, she was sure the entire world knew, including the villain who owned the accursed ship.
"I'm just fine, Benny. You mustn't worry about me. How is Flossie?" Anxious for him to depart, she walked him to the door.
"The widow's as angry as a hornet. But you'll see how she fares yourself, miss, if you go abovedecks today. She's already taking the air on the quarterdeck."
"That's wonderful. I'm anxious to be
off then."
"When shall I bring you your bath, miss?"
"My bath?" She looked down at her hopelessly rumpled blue dress. She most definitely looked like a street urchin now. She didn't even know if a bath would do much good, but it might wash away the lingering cobwebs of her dream, and that would surely do her good. "I suppose you could bring it now, if it isn't too much trouble."
"No trouble at all, miss."
"Thank you, Benny." She suddenly smiled at him and his whole face brightened. Koonga ceased her screams, and when he shuffled to the door, Benny's step seemed much lighter.
"Aurora, my God, what has that vile man done to you! Are you all right, love? . . . Love! Where on earth are your shoes?" Flossie sailed toward Aurora, her face a mask of outrage and concern. When she reached Aurora's side, she held out her arms and gave Aurora a bone-crushing hug. "That ignoble pirate! That freeboot-ing villain! Is he the one who's taken your shoes?"
"Yes," Aurora answered, catching her breath after she and Flossie parted. "But I'm otherwise all right. You mustn't worry about me. It's you I've been concerned about."
"Oh, my dear child! You must not give me another thought. It's as if the voyage is merely continuing. I've had every comfort. Except for the fact that I've been locked in my cabin." With that, she shot Isaac a bitter, hurtful glance. The captain didn't even look up from the binnacle.
"But you, love"—she turned back to Aurora, worry flooding her bright blue eyes—"you look a sight. I do hope that wretched Vashon hasn't behaved in . . . well . . . in an untoward fashion."
Aurora almost laughed. "Untoward" was hardly the way Vashon behaved. Especially when he was ripping the clothes off her back. Nonetheless, she reassured the widow. "Vashon and I have clashed, I'll admit. But he's done no permanent damage."
"Thank heavens. I've been worried sick. I've even had to take some of Jane's smelling salts. It's a good thing we left that vexing little maid of mine behind on St. George's. The girl is forever feeling faint and this trip would have killed her."
Aurora smiled and took the widow's hand. It was trembling, so she squeezed it. Flossie had a great deal of fortitude, but she was no young woman and the ordeal was obviously affecting her. Right then and there Aurora promised herself that she would do all within her power to return her to St. George's.
"You mustn't worry, Flossie," she said softly. "Think of this as an adventure. And in no time I just know you'll be back home telling all your wonderful friends about your stay on a pirate ship."
The widow adamantly shook her head. "This would be quite an adventure, but only if you weren't in so much trouble. After all, I'm an old woman. What could they do to me? But you, Aurora, there's a whole manner of things from which you need protection. And because I'm frantic over that, this is no adventure at all."
"No, no! I can take care of myself. I've given Vashon back what he's given me. In duplicate!" She was exaggerating. She was standing in front of the widow with no undergarments to speak of, and no shoes. But she couldn't stand to see that frightened look in Flossie's eyes. Especially when it was for herself.
Flossie suddenly gave her a secret smile. She peeked at the captain to see if he was looking, then whispered, "Oh, but you did put up a brave front when he had you tied to that bedpost! And to make up that story about your fiancé! I wanted to applaud. You were brilliant. The very picture of myself at your age, if I do say."
Aurora smiled wryly. She could have had a fiancé coming for them. Flossie couldn't know how close the story had been to the truth. But after all that had happened at the Home before she'd left, John would most certainly never follow her. He was too hurt and too angry and too selfish.
"But unfortunately it was a piece of fiction, and we must develop some kind of plan to escape." Aurora drew closer. "I've been thinking, Flossie. We've almost a week to come up with a plan, and I believe when we make port in San Juan, I should—"
A cough sounded behind them. Both women looked up to find the captain at their side, an irritated expression on his face. Aurora doubted he'd had time to hear any of their conversation, but he'd definitely heard enough to put an end to their whispers.
"It's time for the widow to return to her cabin." He put a hand on Flossie's elbow in order to escort her back.
"Captain, this isn't necessary," Aurora began. "What harm is there in our having some fresh air and conversation?"
"It's upon my orders, Aurora. I'll not have you two whispering like thieves."
Aurora jerked her head around and found Vashon standing next to her. His presence was overpowering. Now that they had reached warmer waters, he wore only his boots, a pair of light chamois breeches, and a leather buccaneer vest that crossed over his bare torso. In the bright sun his hair gleamed almost as brilliantly as his earring. His eyes glittered more green than the ocean around them.
His presence brought back her dream with stunning clarity, and before she could stop herself she felt her face growing flushed. She ripped her gaze away from him, but this only made her more angry. With an icy tone in her voice she said, "It's Miss Dayne to you, sir. And I don't believe we're the ones who should be likened to thieves."
He gave her a wry smile. He nodded to Isaac. The captain tightened his grip on Flossie's arm.
"Wait!" Aurora pleaded with the captain. "What harm is there in our visiting?"
"There's no harm at all, wren," Vashon answered. "But rule number three on this ship states that prisoners shall not whisper among themselves, and if caught doing so, they shall be separated immediately."
"What?" Aurora spun around to challenge him, but by then Flossie was already being dragged away by Isaac. As the two disappeared down the companionway, Aurora nearly cursed. "Your rules," she blurted out, "can go to the devil."
He laughed. "But they already have, Miss Dayne. Or haven't you noticed?"
She shot him a disparaging look, then walked to the railing. She had hoped he would leave her in peace but she had no such luck.
"In three days we'll make port in Grand Talimen."
He joined her at the rail. She could feel his eyes on her even though she kept her gaze steadfast on the turquoise horizon. "I thought we were to anchor in San Juan," she said.
"A change in itinerary. One of our water caskets has sprung a leak. I don't want to risk going that far."
A slight furrow appeared on her brow. "Then shall we make port later in San Juan, or shall we go directly to this Satan's paradise of yours?"
He tipped his head back and laughed. Before she could stop him, his hand, warm yet rough, fondly patted her cheek. "How astute you are."
Unnerved by his touch, she stepped away. His caress brought to the boil all the feelings in her dream, feelings she knew were best left simmering in her unconscious. Again reminded of her wanton response the night before, she felt her composure falter. But she quickly gathered herself because she had a whole new set of worries now.
When they docked at San Juan, her plan was somehow to steal off the ship and bring help to Flossie. But San Juan was days away, giving her time to think of an escape and to coordinate her plans. Now that they were to make port at Grand Talimen, only three days away, she wondered if she could do anything in that amount of time.
In frustration she tapped her fingers on the ship's rail. The expression on her face must have mirrored her thoughts because, uninvited, Vashon said, "Thinking of an escape, my love?"
Her gaze shot to his. Her blush gave her away. Angry, she snatched her hand from the rail and started to quit the deck, but before she could get to the companionway his words made her delay.
"You haven't begged my permission to leave, Miss Dayne."
Furious, her entire figure stiffened. With just one glance she defied him to stop her.
"Miss Dayne, I'll have you know that rule number two of this ship is that all prisoners shall obey me. If you leave this deck without my permission, you have my promise of punishment, and you'll not see the widow again until we get to Mirage
."
This threat gave her pause. She needed Flossie's help in thinking of a way for her to escape once on Grand Talimen. She couldn't afford to isolate herself now, not with three days to port.
Setting her jaw, she walked past him to the aft section of the quarterdeck. If she couldn't leave, she most certainly could pretend he wasn't around. But with his great height and handsome face, he was a difficult man to make invisible. She did her best, however, until she felt his arm sweep around her waist.
"Aurora?" he whispered against her hair.
Her eyes darkened. "What is it, you licentious tyrant?"
Her words made him smile. "Do you want me to tell you rule number one?"
She looked up at him. She didn't really want to know his despicable rules, but since she was under his domination until they arrived in Grand Talimen, it was inevitable she would learn them. Resentfully she nodded her head.
"Rule number one," he said in a husky voice, "is all ship's spoils belong to me . . . and to me alone."
He lifted her hair and as if his lips were a brand, she felt him place one fiery kiss upon her nape. Her hair was still damp from its washing, and he seemed particularly entranced by the way the delicate curls clung to her hairline. She closed her eyes, unable to bear what he was doing. His kiss only reminded her again of that wretched dream, and she trembled just from the thought of the power he had over her.
It seemed like an eternity, but finally he dropped the shiny, springy red-gold tangle of her hair and let her move from his hold. Desperate to leave, she looked up at him with pleading aqua eyes. Reluctantly he nodded his permission and she flew down the companionway as if she had wings. Suddenly Grand Talimen wasn't coming soon enough.
Chapter Fourteen
Grand Talimen Island was a seemingly benign little cay east of the Bahamas. Gone were the rocky coasts and Bermuda cedar of St. George's; in its place were luxurious fringes of white sand beaches and mile upon mile of swaying coconut palms.
At the north end, on the island's only promontory, sat the tiny town of New Providence, harbor to numerous ships going and coming from the Mayaguana Passage. Aurora watched from the high railing as the town grew in detail. Pastel pink-and-yellow buildings simmered beneath the hot sunshine, and whitewashed stone walls ran like a maze, effectively separating the courtyards of the wealthy from the hovels of the poor. The town radiated out from a decidedly civilized English circus, which was overlooked by elegant Spanish wrought iron balustrades and bricked French arcades, all proving how many times the island had changed hands. But if there were attempts at making New Providence appear refined, it was in stark contrast to the blooming frangipani, which sent a wild pagan scent as far as the approaching Seabravery.
Till Dawn Tames the Night Page 17