Till Dawn Tames the Night (11 page)

"You allow me to leave, sir, or the captain shall hear about this! I'll not let you keep me prisoner here a moment more!"

"Prisoner?
Is that what you think you are?" He leaned against the wall. It was an unnerving move for it only brought him closer to her. Her head tipped back to look up at him and he seemed to revel in her accusatory stare. Slowly he added, "You have a lot to learn about prisoners, Aurora."

Her name on his lips shocked her. It had
a gentleness
to it that she hadn't expected. In the deep, rich tones of his voice, he spoke it almost like a caress.
An intimate, appreciative caress.
She suddenly wanted to blush to her toes.

"I certainly know enough about prisoners not to want to learn about them from you," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Perhaps after what I said about Lady Perkins you think she can teach you better."

"As I told you before, your unfounded tales of my employer cannot turn me against her."

"Even after the Widow Lindstrom's offer? Come along, Aurora, that must seem rather attractive to you now. Tell me you have no thoughts at all of leaving the ship at St. George's." His demand hung heavy in the air, carrying much more weight than she would have supposed.

She clenched her fists at her side,
then
met that insolent emerald gaze. "I think very highly of Lady Perkins," she informed him. "And until I reach Kingston and my new employer proves me wrong, I shall continue to think highly of her. In the meantime, your opinions of my situation concern me not a whit. In fact, my only worry is why you've taken an interest in them. Surely you've grander things to occupy your mind than my welfare?"

She certainly expected to see annoyance on his face. He had clearly wanted her to be wary of Lady Perkins, but with this news* the tension left his face. He suddenly laughed.

"Your name suits you, Aurora. You're either fiery—or gray—just like the dawn. But I think I've seen too much gray. You definitely put too much stake in which way the winds of propriety might be blowing. But I dare say it now, the winds may be shifting."

With that enigmatic statement, he straightened and sauntered to the couch. She watched him as he scooped up her shawl. To her surprise, he held it out like a gentleman, waiting for her to allow him to place it upon her shoulders. But unlike a gentleman, when she stepped into it, he took a bit too long to relinquish it. His hands, strong and unimaginably warm, wrapped her slowly in its warmth,
then
they ran down her shawl-clad arms only to make her shiver at his touch.

She did not recoil as she thought she might. If anything, she almost longed for the caress again. She had never felt a man's caress. John Phipps had never touched her. Perhaps if he'd been consumed by hot, selfless passion, she might never have left him, but his passion had been a cold thing, wrought of his own greed and self-righteousness, and there had been no room in it to consider her desires. To John, she had been a thing to covet, not caress.

Now as she turned her head to glance at Vashon, she couldn't help feeling mildly disappointed that he had stepped aside. As dangerous and unexplored as it was, she almost wanted to experience his touch again. But he was already at the threshold. As if nailed to the floor, she stood watching him while he opened the cabin door and held it out wide for her to exit.

"Your bedchamber awaits, my lady," he said as if to nudge her from her spot.

"Vashon, the widow's snug in her cabin, but now what in God's name are we going to do about—?" The captain suddenly appeared at the door, yet the minute he saw Aurora his words died on his lips.

Aghast at the captain's shocked expression, Aurora colored right down to the swell of her breasts. She was making a spectacle of herself. By every appearance it looked as though Vashon was trying to get her to leave him for her own bedchamber—and that she was reluctant!

Mortified at what she supposed he thought of her character, she could hardly look the captain in the eye as she swept past him. With a swift murmuring of thanks to her host, she exited and desperately sought respite in her cabin.

After she had gone, the men exchanged few words. Vashon only said, "It's taken care of."

And the captain merely answered, "Thank God. For a moment there, I thought we were going to have to kidnap this entire shipload of passengers—starting with that damnable widow!"

That caress bedeviled her for nights.

Even now as Aurora stood on the
fo'c'sle
deck warming her face in the sun, the memory of it possessed her. She had once thought if ever she would dream of a man he would be like those gallant, fair-haired princes in one of Perrault's fairy tales. But now, much to her chagrin, her dreams seemed captured by a totally different character—the shadowy, secretive, terrifying owner of the
Seabravery.

It had only been a touch, but for some reason she couldn't put it out of her mind. When she was asleep in her little bed, over and over again she replayed the scene with Vashon as he helped her with her shawl. But in her version, he didn't step back as he had actually done. His hand didn't leave her. Instead his large iron-strong hand swept down her arm and rode at her waist until she chanced to turn her head. Then when her eyes met his, he kissed her, kissed her as deeply as her chaste little mind could imagine.

She should have been having nightmares, especially after what she believed Captain Corbeil thought of her. But when she awoke, she was much too concerned about her dreams of Vashon and what those dreams meant for her to begin worrying about the captain.

"The captain has said we may have a storm by this evening."

Frowning, Aurora suddenly snapped out of her dark musings to look at Miss Gideon, who had spoken. She, Mrs. Lindstrom, and Miss Gideon were spending the afternoon together watching Hester. Aurora realized she must have missed some of the conversation because she couldn't remember when their idle talk had turned to the weather.

"We've had terribly fine sailing. I'm not surprised our luck is about to change," Aurora commented, hiding her discomposure as she stared out at the blue horizon. They had had fine weather in the weeks they'd been at sea. The days were now even getting balmy and no longer did they need their pelisses to walk about
abovedecks
.

"Our luck won't change, my dears," Mrs. Lindstrom assured them. "Captain Corbeil is more than a capable seaman. He is driven to get us to St. George's."

"And how much farther have we to go?" Miss Gideon asked. "I shouldn't like to have to endure more than one storm on this voyage."

"Isaac—ah—
our captain
told me that we should be there within the week." Mrs. Lindstrom had the grace to look flustered by her mistake. To cover herself, she chatted on. "You know, I've never seen a ship make such extraordinary time. Captain Corbeil doesn't even furl a portion of the canvas at sunset—none of that
lallygagging
around for him! No indeed!"

Aurora couldn't help smiling at Flossie. Ever since the night the captain had spilled his Chartreuse on Flossie's skirts, the widow had been
unable'to
speak of anything but their fine, upstanding captain. Mrs. Lindstrom had even asked her once, on the sly, if Aurora thought it too bold to invite the captain to afternoon tea in her cabin. In spite of her age, Flossie had developed a grand, school-girlish infatuation for the captain, and Aurora thought it charming. She was just glad the voyage wouldn't be over too soon.
At least for Mrs. Lindstrom.

Not having missed a thing, Miss Gideon gave the widow a disapproving stare. "Our captain may be extraordinary but he'd have to be God to will away a storm. The best I hope for is that it doesn't keep the child awake. I don't abide indulging a child's terrors, and I must say it's quite difficult to get one's sleep when there's wailing in the cabin."

How charitable,
Aurora thought bitterly as she looked at the woman. Hardly able to keep her tongue still, she instead turned her attention to Hester. The child was staring up at the crow's nest as if she had just discovered for the first time that there was a man up there, and Aurora's heart once more went out to her. She fervently hoped the storm wouldn't be too bad, for there obviously would be no comfort for the little girl if it were.

"Miss Dayne?" Miss Gideon paused as if for effect.

Aurora turned her attention back to Hester's nanny.

"I've been meaning to speak with you about something, Miss Dayne," Miss Gideon continued. "With your permission, may I broach the subject now?"

"Of course you may. What is on your mind?" Aurora
answered,
a bit too tersely.

"Do you realize you're the only one continuing on to Jamaica? I just spoke with the
Wainwrights
this morning, and I've now tallied all nine passengers."

"Surely the
Seabravery
will
be
taking more passengers on in St. George's. I doubt I shall be the lone passenger."

"But what if you are? Have you thought of the possibility?" Miss Gideon narrowed her eyes. "I certainly wouldn't want to be in your situation. I could not ever travel alone with such heathens." The woman's gaze slid down the companionway to the weather deck below. There Vashon stood speaking with the Moroccan
sailmaker
. Even from the
fo'c'sle
they could hear him slip easily into French as he pointed out a rip in one of the royals.

"Vashon is no heathen, Miss Gideon," Mrs. Lindstrom spoke up. "He is more accurately portrayed as an eccentric."

"Eccentric or not, I don't believe it is right that a young woman should sail across the Caribbean with him as her only company. A lady of high morals would adamantly refuse. Don't you agree, Miss Dayne?"

Irritated, Aurora chose her words carefully. She longed to put Miss Gideon in her place, but even more than that she wanted to deny the woman's accusation in the hope that by doing so it might erase that wicked dream—and her own unbidden reaction to it.

"On the contrary," Aurora began passionately, "it is the woman of high morals who need not refuse. What has she to fear? I still believe there will be other passengers brought aboard at St. George's. However, if there are not, I can assure you that my behavior always is and always has been beyond reproach. So I don't see how it would matter a whit if I were sailing with heathens or eccentrics, for I, unlike some, cannot be led astray."

"Bravo, Aurora!" Mrs. Lindstrom burst out.

"What shocking cheek!" Miss Gideon gave them both a baleful glare. She snatched up her charge and heaved herself down the companionway.

"That is an utterly disagreeable woman! To even question your respectability is beyond the pale! I only hope the poor child's uncle is not so frightful!" Mrs. Lindstrom snapped closed her parasol as if to reinforce the point.

"Yes, so do I," Aurora agreed uncomfortably, watching the woman charge past the deckhouse.

Vashon had finished his conversation and was now leaning against the weather deck's railing. She saw that he too was watching the indignant Miss Gideon's flight.

As soon as she disappeared, he looked across the ship to Aurora, and with that one penetrating emerald glance he shook Aurora's self-righteous moral indignation to its core. Aghast, she averted her eyes and refused to be further seduced, but not before she was beset with renewed doubt. Only a moment ago she'd been utterly convinced that she could withstand any sort of treachery and keep her respectability intact. But was she being a fool? After ' all, there were such things as dragons—even if just in the imagination. Was she really up to taking one on all by herself?

"Do you really think we won't be taking any more passengers on at St. George's?" she suddenly asked Mrs. Lindstrom, a frown furrowing her smooth brow.

"Of course not, love. Besides, you needn't worry. There's always Captain Corbeil to look out for you."

Aurora looked across the decks once more. The captain had joined Vashon at the railing. The two men were laughing and it was obvious they were sharing some kind of joke.

Suddenly, inexplicably, she wasn't reassured.

By early that evening the captain's prediction came true. Though it had yet to rain, ominous rumbling clouds appeared on the horizon and the sea had become rough, easily tossing the ship across its churning surface. By dinnertime Aurora found it difficult to make
herself
presentable, for every time she tried to pour some water from her ewer, the ship would lurch and she'd miss the bowl entirely. When her face was finally washed, her cabin looked as if it had experienced a minor flood.

Dinner was quiet. Most of the passengers had either requested dinner in their cabins or were too sick to eat from all the tossing about. Only Mrs. Lindstrom and the
Magoun
brothers were in the roundhouse when she arrived, and that company was fleeting, for though Alex and Lee
Magoun
obviously considered themselves, at seventeen, quite manly, even they were not able to abide their dinners amid the roiling action of the ship. Before the meal was finished, they had already made their excuses, and Mrs. Lindstrom also soon took her leave to see to her seasick maid, leaving Aurora alone to return to her cabin.