"What you see is how much I love you!"
He faced her. "No, what I see is a woman who is deserving of more than I can give her. A woman of grace and beauty who is deluded into thinking that I am the man for her. And I see a man who has somehow been so elevated in her eyes she thinks he is deserving of her." He lowered his voice in self-loathing. "Do you know what I've done in my life? Do you know how many men I have killed?"
She thrust him away and refused to listen. "I care not how many men have fallen because of you. I'll believe to my death you had good cause—"
"Hear me out!" He ruthlessly pulled her to him. "There were times I thought I had good cause, but Josiah Peterborough is still my half brother, and half his blood runs in my veins. I can't help wondering if that doesn't color my perception of things."
"It doesn't! You're nothing like your brother!"
"But maybe I am. Maybe I'm very much like my brother. Isaac once said that the reason I've never taken that title away from Josiah was because I enjoyed torturing him more than I would enjoy a place in the peerage. And he was right, Aurora. He was right."
"I won't listen to this! No matter what you say, I will never believe you're less a man than I think you are! I love you! I couldn't love an evil man!"
He shook her, the anger and pain on his face a terrible thing to see. "I first killed a man when I was just thirteen!"
"You had cause to do it!"
"How do you know that?"
She sobbed, barely able to choke out her words. "Because that man tried to molest you, didn't he?"
Vashon stilled. His expression turned rock-hard. "Peterborough wanted me dead so that he could inherit the Blackwell title. He thought I was dead until I returned to London years ago and paid him a visit. I meant to frighten him. I told him about that man I killed so long ago when I was still a boy. I described it in great detail." His voice nearly cracked with vengeance. "Do you want to know what he said?"
Tearfully she shook her head.
"He said, 'Well done. Now I know we're brothers.' "
Vashon released her and she watched him turn away. Her heart was shattering for him. As if by instinct, she pressed against him, crushing her breasts to the dragon, wrapping his muscular torso in her arms. "That changes nothing," she whispered.
He answered in a monotone. "It was wrong of me to delude you. You're worthy of the best of men, not the worst. You should have your man Phipps, Aurora. You should have so many things."
"You told me you would not send me back," she whispered, clinging to any hope. "You said it was too dangerous to return to London."
"It is now," he answered calmly. "But I shall make it safe for you to return. You will go with Flossie to St. George's. I shall go to England to seek Peterborough."
"Don't do it, Vashon. I beg you!"
"You must have the life you were meant to live."
"I lied about my life! I lied about Phipps! I wanted to leave London. I have nothing to return to." After this pitiful confession, she bit back a sob.
"I've not done many noble things in my life, Aurora, but this time I will. You should have a little cottage. You should live an ordinary, comfortable life with an ordinary, comfortable man." He pulled her off him. "Not me. There's nothing good to come of this unholy union."
But we could have a baby! Your baby! she wanted to cry out, yet already the fight was beginning to die within her. When she met his stern emerald gaze she knew there was no changing his mind. "I'll hate you forever if you do this," she cried.
"I'd rather you hate me then. And live to tell it." He softened. "In time you'll see I was right. You'll fall to your knees in thanks that I did this."
"I will curse your name until my dying breath," she vowed, refusing to look at him, to show him how much he had hurt her.
He released a bitter laugh. "I wager you won't be alone in doing so."
Without warning, he turned and kissed her, toppling her back onto the pillows. She struggled to be released. He captured her with his gaze.
"If I'm to leave you, then I shall leave now, Vashon," she demanded furiously.
"No." A dark smile played upon his lips. "If you're to leave me, then our time now must be well spent." His hand cupped her breast. She tried to throw him off but without hesitating, his mouth found its coral-colored tip.
She closed her eyes, desperate to think of a way to thwart him, but when she felt herself spiraling down once more into sweet oblivion, she whispered the words that he'd wanted from her the very first time they'd made love. "You're a wretch and I'll hate you forever for this, do you hear? Forever . . ."
Just as she expected, he laughed; just as she feared, her fingers traitorously threaded through his long black locks and she allowed his mouth to take her own.
It was some time before they parted again. They missed the sunrise. And the sleek ominous ship that rounded Mosquito Bay on the southeast end of St. Kitts, heading swiftly for Mirage.
Chapter Twenty-six
The furious knocking on the doors woke Aurora from a sound slumber. She opened her eyes and found herself lying in Vashon's embrace, his leg resting intimately between her thighs, her arm outflung across his chest in an unconscious gesture of surrender. Vashon must already have been awake, for upon hearing the banging he extricated himself from her and the bedclothes and strode to the door, unmindful of his nudity or how terrifying the dragon looked in the brilliant light of morn.
"Isaac," Aurora heard him say after he'd disappeared into the antechamber. A muffled conversation ensued and the tension grew thick. Her mortification over being discovered with Vashon was only lessened by the dread she felt at the suspicion that Isaac had come with bad news.
When she saw Vashon's face, she knew it.
He'd donned his white trousers by now, and he walked back into the bedroom, his face as grave as she'd ever seen it.
"What is it?" she cried, pulling the sheet to her breasts.
"A ship has landed near Rum Gut. Isaac said the name's the Merry Magdalene."
"You know this ship?"
"It belongs to a mercenary named Fontien. I didn't think he could find Mirage. But he has. He's brought my brother here, I'm sure of it. Peterborough is on the island."
She closed her eyes, overcome with terror for him, for them both.
"Get dressed," he ordered absentmindedly. He went to his desk and gathered some remaining papers and maps. "Isaac is preparing the Seabravery. We set sail immediately."
She watched him at his desk, suddenly consumed with the fear of losing him. All along she had discounted Peterborough, but now that he was here on Mirage his threat was so real she shook with it.
He looked up; his eyes scanned her pale face, her bed-mussed hair, her white knuckles clutching the linens to her. He softened only slightly. "Get dressed, my love. I'll admit this is a rude awakening to the most pleasurable of nights, but there's no helping it."
Numbly she rose and found her dress.
"I fear this is turning out precisely the way you predicted," she confessed, fumbling with her dress. "If we hadn't—" She took a deep breath and looked out the louvers to the Caribbean. "I've distracted you, and now you may pay with your life."
"I allowed myself the distraction." Those were the only words of comfort he offered. "Love, get ready. Finish your attire." He nodded to her dress, still partially unhooked, revealing a good portion of one creamy breast.
Distraught, she completed her toilet while he turned back to his desk. She pulled her hair into a loose knot and began to leave his apartments.
He stopped her in the antechamber. "What do you think you're doing?" he snapped.
She spun around. "I've got to get Koonga. I can't abandon her here. Benny will never forgive me."
"Where is she?"
"In my rooms."
"Leave her then. Peterborough may be in the house for all I know. Though Dragonard is big, it may be just a matter of time before he discovers where my rooms are."
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"Vashon—"
"You will not retrieve her."
"Is she ready?"
Gasping at this new voice, Aurora turned again and found Isaac standing right behind her. She was sure she was going out of her mind because she'd been facing the doors all along and she'd never seen him enter.
"Where is Benny?" Vashon asked, not disturbed at all by Isaac's sudden appearance.
"He and the widow are already on St. Kitts. The Seabravery awaits at the docks in Basseterre."
"How shall we get to St. Kitts undetected?" she asked.
A wry smile came to Vashon's lips. "That's the least of our worries." He addressed Isaac. "Have the servants been notified to leave? Has Tsing gone also?"
"They've vacated." Isaac hesitated. "We've had a few casualties, however. Two seamen on the Resolute were shot in the head. I'm sure Blackwell expected us to leave on that ship."
Aurora sickened at this news. Two men were already dead. She looked at Vashon and felt she might go out of her mind with grief. The thought of his being in such danger brought her to the edge of hysterics.
Vashon nodded, then handed the captain his maps and the Venetian paper notebook. He next tucked a pistol into the waist of his trousers. "Get everyone settled on the Seabravery. I'll be there shortly."
"Where on earth are you going?" Isaac gasped, looking at him as if he were mad.
"Benny's monkey," he said sarcastically. "Apparently the beast has too many admirers to be left to its own devices."
"No, Vashon!" Aurora gasped.
"I agree that's a very bad idea, my friend. We've already been caught unawares." The captain turned grim.
"You can't go, Vashon! As you said yourself, Peterborough might already be in the house," she interjected, unwilling to let Vashon jeopardize himself. "Please, I beg of you, I'm the one who must retrieve Koonga."
"Take her, Isaac. I'll join you in a moment." Vashon nodded to her as if she were some kind of pet to be led away by a leash. She could have shrieked in frustration.
Isaac shook his head, obviously unhappy with the situation too, but resigned to it. He took Aurora's arm and said, "Flossie's been asking about you, girl. Come along. We've a bit of a walk ahead."
Aurora pulled away. It was unthinkable what they were asking her to do. How could she ever continue if something happened to Vashon? "No. I won't go, Vashon, until you've come back."
Vashon took her jaw like a truant child's. "Listen to me, Aurora, we've no time for debate. I made you promise to do what I told you to. Now is the time to do that."
"Oh, God, don't make me," she moaned.
"You must." Vashon dropped his hold. "I'll follow in a minute," he said to Isaac.
The captain acquiesced and began to escort Aurora out of the antechamber. She was not going to go willingly; Isaac had to drag her away.
"Vashon," she called out, fighting Isaac the entire way, "let me go with you! I beg you, I cannot lose you! Don't let me lose you!"
"You were going to hate me forever, remember?" He smiled darkly and nodded Isaac on. Aurora moaned in agony and struggled with him, but soon he brought her in front of the huge mahogany and gilt firescreen. He pushed it aside; behind it were no hearth and fireback, but steps that led into the bowels of the earth.
"Don't do this, Vashon!" she nearly sobbed, but before she could make another protest, the captain forced her down the first steps. Her last look at Vashon saw him anxious for combat, staring at the doors leading from the antechamber, his green eyes already glittering with anger.
The years of running the streets of the Casbah gave Vashon a distinct advantage over his nemesis. He knew Dragonard and he knew how to hide. He made his way through the silent passages, his ears hearing everything—the breeze in the coconut grove outside the northwest passage, the distant slam of a shutter against the jamb, the alien sound of liquid as it fell somewhere ahead, plopping against the polished mahogany floors.
Barefoot and nimble, he crept along, the drip, drip, drip wearing heavy on his nerves. When he turned the corner, his expression hardened. He was appalled at what he saw but not surprised by it. He looked at the body tied and hung like a bat from the rafters. It was hardly disturbed at all—executed in the classic Peterborough style —one tiny slice placed carefully in the neck and the man had been doomed. As usual, Peterborough's surgical abilities were brilliant.
Vashon cut down the body and discovered it to be a young black diver from Nevis. The man had worked for him ever since he had married a servant from Mirage. Now he was dead, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Disgusted, Vashon laid him in the corner, then thought better of it.
"Sorry, lad," he whispered to the young man before drawing him across the passage, the large pool of blood from the dead man's neck smearing the entire passageway. He reverently stepped over the body and continued around the corner to Aurora's apartments.
Silently he opened the door. Koonga chattered in the bedroom. The sitting room preceding it was empty and undisturbed.
He walked as quiet as a cat into the bedroom. The monkey sat atop the bed's upholstered canopy shrieking at something in the corner. He looked and came face-to-face with his brother.
"So we finally meet on my terms, Vashon," Peterborough said, walking out from the bed, a pistol in each hand.
The two men stared at each other, each so much like the other, each so completely different.
"Josiah, how good it is to see you again." Vashon's voice was calm and filled with loathing.
"And you too." Josiah waved his hand at his surroundings. "I didn't know where to find you in this magnificent palace you've built here. I'm glad you found me instead." He scanned Vashon's scanty attire, remarkably crude compared with the viscount's jonquil satin waistcoat and buckskin trousers. "I see we didn't dress for the occasion."
"And what occasion is that?"
"Your funeral." Peterborough suddenly laughed.
"But I've got the girl. So how do you think I'm to die? As I see it, once I have the emerald, by all rights, the curse should dictate your demise."
The viscount sobered. "Where is she? The servant told us these were her apartments."
"Us?" Vashon asked.
Peterborough nodded to the door. From behind it stepped a blond young man, too precisely dressed, holding a pistol in his trembling hand.
Discounting him, Vashon turned back to Peterborough. "I assume the dead boy in the passage told you Aurora was here?"
"He didn't cooperate as quickly as I like."
"No one ever does." Vashon looked to the canopy and held out an arm to Koonga. The little monkey gratefully climbed down and held on to his neck.
Peterborough smirked. "Vicious animal. It hissed at me."
As if Koonga understood him, she hissed again.
"You leave a bad odor, Josiah," Vashon said. "Little creatures hate it."
The viscount didn't hide his annoyance. "So where is she, Vashon? I hear from Azzedine that Aurora Dayne's quite a beauty. Are you sleeping with her?"
Vashon was silent.
"She's that good? Left you speechless? Wonderful." Peterborough laughed. "I need a good woman for the voyage back. I forget how long it takes to make a crossing and how one is forced to . . . make do." His gaze slid disparagingly to the young blond man.
"What makes you think I'll give her up?" Vashon asked.
Peterborough again met his brother's gaze. "Because I shall see you dead before I leave here without her."
"Then I suppose you must kill me now."
"But if I kill you I'll never know where the girl is."
Vashon smiled. "Exactly."
"So where is she?"
"She's already gone from here. She's on her way to retrieve the emerald."
"She knows where it is?" Peterborough blanched.
"She's revealed many things," Vashon admitted.
"That emerald is mine! I shall have it at any cost!" The viscount moved forward with the pistols.
Vashon only laughed. He made a great gesture of turning around and presenting his back to him. "Shoot me, my brother! I beg you! Kill me as you should have years ago!"
Peterborough gasped and stepped back. His gaze slid between Vashon's mad laughter and the Blackwell dragon tattooed on his back. It was obvious he had never seen it before. Shock, horror, and surprise crossed his features in one fluid expression.
"Pull the trigger, Josiah. Or are you afraid?" Vashon turned and faced him once more. "Does the dragon frighten you? You thought I didn't care about the title, didn't you? How terrified you must be to find yourself so mistaken." Vashon began to stalk him. "Go ahead. Shoot me. Why are you hesitating? Because without the power of that emerald to guide you, you haven't the backbone, have you, you bloody bastard?"
"Keep your distance." Peterborough stopped him by waving one pistol. "As you yourself pointed out, if I kill you, I'll never get Aurora Dayne."
"Nor shall you, ever." Vashon flashed a smile.
"Don't be too sure, brother." Peterborough raised the pistols. "If I kill you, I needn't have the emerald at all."
Vashon paused. As if he'd choreographed the entire thing, he reached behind him, disarming and grabbing Asher in a well-schooled motion. He held the gasping man up by the collar.
"Come along, Viscount, shoot!" he said, holding Asher in front of him.
"Noooooo!" Asher squealed, holding his hands out for mercy.
Peterborough aimed. "I've got two pistols, Vashon. When he's gone, so will your shield be."
"Noooo!" Asher screamed like a terrified pig.
"Pray you don't miss then, Josiah." Vashon calmly held the man out further.
"I beg you! I beg you, Josiah!" Asher pleaded pitifully. When Peterborough looked as if he was ready to pull the trigger, Asher put his face in his hands and sobbed. Disgusted, Vashon heaved him up and threw him to Peterborough. Asher slammed into the viscount, and that was just enough of a diversion to allow Vashon an escape.
Practiced in running from executioners, Vashon took to the passageway like the wind. Behind him Peterborough stumbled to catch up. Vashon met the corner, then leaped across the great smear of blood left from the viscount's slaughter. As he pounded the polished floors of the passage, he heard just what he expected. Peterborough took the corner, not anticipating the blood on the floor. He skidded several feet, both pistols going off in his fall.
Till Dawn Tames the Night Page 32