Lady Rogue (9 page)

Chapter Ten
             

Snuggling against her pillow, Dawn gave herself up to
the same dream that had dominated her sleep incessantly since the night at the docks.  Music drifted through a mist, intensifying her dreamy languor. She was dancing, whirling round and round in the arms of her handsome gentleman. 

The heat from his body enveloped her.  She was close to him, her breasts lightly brushing against his hard chest.   He was so tall, making her feel feminine and fragile.  Looking up at him, she watched that chiseled mouth smile with honest affection and no sign of sco
rn. Oh, how she loved his mouth, its sensuality.  As if reading her thoughts, his blue eyes twinkled at her from his mesmerizingly handsome face.

"You are the most beautiful woman here," he was saying, his arm tightening around her waist as he pulled her closer.  The rippling muscles in his thighs moved sensuously against hers as he began to move in time to the music. 
Her senses were spinning.  The way  he was looking down at her made her feel cherished.  This time there was no scorn in his gaze, only admiration.

The music reached a crescendo as he spun her around, then dipped her over his arm with a husky laugh, drawing her closer still
.   His warm, hard lips caressed the soft curve of her shoulder where her skin lay bared.  She clutched frantically at his shoulder for balance, joining him in laughter, feeling wonderfully carefree and gloriously happy.  He wanted her.  The thought was as intoxicating as gin.

Her hair slipped loose from its pins to hang down her back.  "That
silvery gown brings out the dark luster of your hair, the pink softness of your mouth.  I'll never let another man claim you, Dawn."  She shivered at the intensity of his voice.  "Never!  You belong to me......" 

His fingers tightened on her shoulder, his mouth hovered only inches from her own.   Molten heat flowed through her, surging in a restless tide as he bent closer. Taking a deep breath, she awaited  his kiss
…… but the kiss never came.             

The light illuminated his face and he was no longer smiling.  There were tense lines on either side of his mouth.  His eyes had changed from a soft blue to a darker, smoki
er saphire.  He raised one eyebrow as his insolent gaze wandered over her face.  Suddenly she felt as if her very soul was exposed to his stare.

"You.....!"  he exclaimed.  Suddenly he was pushing her away and she was falling........   In desperation she reached out
, but instead of steadying her fall, he was joining her in her descent, pinning her down with his body.....

Dawn was rudely awakened as a strong hand held her back upon the bed.  Her head thrashed on the pillow.  "No!"  Dear God,
he'd
suddenly realized who she was!  He was angry.  He loathed her, just like before.  "No...!"  Remorse and fear pulsated through her veins as she awaited his torrent of fury.  He'd send her to Newgate or worse.  "No, I didn't......"  Where was Black John?  He would beat her for setting his quarry free!  Didn't the man know that?  Pushing at the hands that held her prisoner, she struggled, but before she could give vent to an oath or a scream her brother's chuckles sounded in her ear.

"Don't squirm so.  It
's yer birthday, sister dear."

She squinted up at her brother with heavy lidded eyes.  "Robbie?"   It had only been a dream
, and yet so real.  Even in a dream he had the power to stir her.  Running a hand through her tangled hair, she tried to put it out of her mind.

"You know our tradition," Robbie was saying with a grin. A generous amount of cool, slick butter was liberally applied to the tip of Dawn's nose amidst her sputte
rs of protest.  "There ye be."

"Ohhhhhh, Robbie!"  She pursed up her lips in mock anger but joined him in  lau
ghter.  As Robbie said, it was a "tradition" they'd followed since childhood, but from whence it had come no one was really sure. 

Bending down Robbie licked the butter off her nose, then planted a greasy kiss on her cheek.  "Mmmmmm, yer taste good.  Like a fresh muffin. I loves ye, sister dear.  I do!"  Birthdays were the only time he ever espoused such tender feelings.  Any other time Robbie hid behind
his facade of plucky bravado.

"And I love you!
"             

"'Ere...!  I got a present fer ye."  With an impatient grunt, he handed her a package wrapped in old newspapers, which she quickly opened.  Inside was an object she most certainly remembered.  Her gentleman's watch, the same one Robbie had taken the night at the docks before she'd set that man free.  "I ain't blind to the way yer keep lookin' at it, Dawnie, as if it's somehow special.  It's yours.  Part
of the spoils ye might saiy."

"I couldn't....!"  There were too many memories attached to it.  She thrus
t it back into Robbie's hands.

"Of course yer could!"  His smile set his eyes dancing sparkles of light.  "I can get another.  Yer knows how easy I can.
I want yer to have it, I do."

He was expressing his love by the gesture
, and she was deeply touched.  How could she refuse.  Besides, somehow just touching the watch made her feel lighter of heart.  It was something that had belonged to
him
.   She did want it.  Perhaps someday she might even give it back.  It might be an excuse to see him again.  Just one more time.  "All right, I will take it.  And..and thank you, Robbie."

Under the scrutiny of her
grateful stare he blushed, and for just a moment the years were washed away.  He was a boy again, taking her by the hand  to show her the brightly painted ball he'd hidden.  How could they have ever imagined then how different their lives would be?  Dawn's birthday was a day  of mixed emotions, one that always brought back memories of her father's death no matter how she tried to put it from her mind.

"Now maybe ye'll be on time more often and not raise Black John's
ire.  'E's still angry, 'e is, cause yer won't go to the docks again."

"That one time was quite enough, it was.  I'll.....I'll never forget wot 'appened."  Burying her face in her hands she feigned tears.  "That poor bloke.  I knows wot yer 'ad done.  Yer killed 'im, ye did. 
No, I'll never go there agin."

"Wots 'at?  Tears?  Me girl can't cry, not on the anniversary o' her birth!"  Offering the tail of his coat to dry her eyes, Jamie clucked his tongue as he came to her side.   "Shame, shame on ye, Robb
ie, ter maike yer sister cry."

"He didn't."  The matter at the docks was a secret so she couldn't explain her emotions.  "It's just....just that I remember how it was once when Rob and me 'ad family,"  she whispered.  T
his time the tears were real.

"Family?  Yer got one now."  Like a mischievous elf Jamie grinned, summoning the rest of the group with a crook of his finger.  "We can 'elp yer celebrate yer
birthday wi' the best o' 'em."

"'Appy birthdaiy!"  They all c
horused as they came closer. 

Farley held his hands behind his back.  With a grin he brought forth his surprise, a small piece of  leather luggage that he'd taken.  "An 'at box, Dawn me girl, for 'at time when yer
'ave an 'at wot don't 'ave a broken feather."

Taddie gave Dawn a length of lace she'd "picked up". 
Doris made an offering of  a silver chain.  Mary pulled a length of periwinkle blue satin from her sleeve. The straw mattress groaned and creaked as the three sat on the edge of Dawn's bed, eagerly awaiting her reaction to their presents.

"I feel as blessed as a queen to 'a
ve such loyal friends, I do!"  Throwing her arms around each one, Dawn expressed her gratitude.  It was Arien's gift, however, that touched her the most, however.  He had written a poem just for her.

"The moon hovers in the darkness, lighting up
the dreary night,

Hiding his face with wistfuln
ess as he glimpses the glowing sight,

Of beauty, grace and all thi
ngs perfection that are  Dawn.

The flowers in the garden sigh
with envy, giving free vent to their jealousy,

Unfurling their petals to full b
loom, futilely competing, they try to be,

As resplendidly colorful
as the fragile young woman who shares our hearts.

Dawn, now and always, as precious to us as a su
mmer sunset, a sky filled with

    
rainbows. 

    May this day and all the
days of your life be happy ones!" 

Taking off his hat he bowed.

"Oh, Arien!"  Dawn's heart was filled with a special warmth as she smiled, but her smile soon faded as Black John burst into the room.

"Still abed
, are we me girl?"  Pulling back the covers he grabbed her roughly by the arm.  "Get up!"

"It's 'er birthdaiy, John.  Wot kind o' blackguard be yer to treat her this waiy?"  Jamie sought to protect Dawn from John's growling anger but was swatt
ed away like a bothersome fly.

"Now see 'ere, Johnnie......I won't 'ave yer manhandle me sis!"  Robbie's jaw ticked war
ningly as he put up his fists.

"Relax, Rob, me boy.  I don't aim to 'arm 'er, but birthday or no she'll not be lying about loike a queen.  Nor will the rest of yer.  On wi' yer now."  He scattered the group with a fretful wave of his hand.   "A new daiy is blinkin' and a lot o' blokes are just ripe for the pickin'.  We need an '
arvest
!"  Tightening his tie, he motioned one of the younger men to his side whispering, "Murdock, come wi' me down ter the warehouse.  I need 'elp in distributing a 'eap o' goods the mudlarks brought in yesterdaiy.  Got ter strike while the iron is 'ot, so ter speak."  

John's manner was cocky as he strode across the room
, and Dawn could only suppose why.  Black John was certain he was about to come into some money, an amount which she doubted he would share with the others.  Robbie's frown confirmed her suspicions.  It seemed that there was a onesided code that said that while everyone in the group shared their takings with John, it wasn't the same with him.  Whenever he was able he kept the lion's share.  Robbie had long suspected that Black John was cautiously stashing all his profits  away somewhere.  What Dawn wouldn't have given to know just where.  More than anything she wanted to get far away from the grime and foul odor of the city and start a new life with Robbie.  But for now she'd  do as Black John said.

Slipping on her faded grey dress, mob cap and wooden clogs, Dawn stiffled a yawn and listened to the sound of John's footsteps as he plodded down the stairs.  One hanky, that's all she'd nab.  It was her birthday!  She wouldn't let Black John bully her today. "T
o work me laddies and ladies!"

"We'll 'ave a  real party tonoight, we will,"  Jamie promised behind his hand.  "
A surprise party if yer will."

"I'll filch a chicken I will, for stew!"  Taddie exclaimed.  "
Maiybe we'll  even have dumplins."

"Everyone get their fingers busy.  Hup!  Hup!  Hup!"  Robbie flashed Dawn his toothy grin.  "Tonoight we
'll 'ave quite a gathering."

Like a flock of scattered sparrows they all went off in  different directions.  Black John had divided
London into various sections for picking pockets.  Dawn's new "walk" was Convent Garden, the chief market for fruit, vegetables and flowers in all of the city.  Arien had told her that it was named from an old garden that belonged to the monks of Westminster Abbey long ago, before the eighth Henry had sent them packing. Since the market days there were Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday and today was Thursday, she scurried on her way.

As usual the streets of
London seethed with traffic; wagons, carriages and coaches sending the pedestrians fleeing as they rumbled down the road.  Streets in Dawn's area were in such deplorable condition that ruts and holes were filled with sticks and straw and the streets were so narrow that only one vehicle could get by at a time.  Was it any wonder the drivers swore such violent oaths?  Dawn was forced off the street time after time, narrowly escaping serious harm to her person.  Even so she much preferred working the daylight hours to the night.  That one experience at the docks had marred her for a lifetime.  She'd take her chances in the light no matter what Black John advised or how loudly Robbie cajoled.

It was a pleasant
London summer morning. Men were shouting, horses neighing, dogs barking, cats fighting, pie men calling, donkeys braying,  market carts stirring up dust as they rattled by.  Dawn listened to the din of the  women chattering as they walked down the street, their straw baskets bulging with fruit balanced on their head. Everywhere Londoners were going to and fro to earn, or some to steal, their daily bread, then fight their way back home again.  Cheerfully she merged herself with the throng.

Advertising was everywhere, even on the sides of vacant houses or scaffolding and as she walked along,
Dawn read the  hand bills, thankful that her mum had taught her the skill.  The printed pieces of paper acted as roadmarks to lead her on her way and assure her swift return  when the time came.