Till Dawn Tames the Night (14 page)

But Vashon recovered much more quickly than those little boys. He caught up with her just as the captain blocked her passage to the exit. She was sure the look of betrayal on her face was enough to give Captain Corbeil nightmares for a month, but just as she reached him, Vashon pulled her away. His hand caught the back of her dress and she resisted with such force, the rear seam ripped clear to her waist. Her drab little gown was now practically falling off her, and she had to add protecting her modesty to this battle as well as protecting her life.

"You—villain!" she cried at him and skidded out of reach. Her name-calling didn't seem to bother him a bit. He was still panting from her previous attack, and his complexion was definitely several shades paler. His humor seemed to have been quelled, but now there was a fire in his eye, as if she had forced his hand, and he was damned if he was going to lose.

"I didn't want to do this," he murmured before he stalked her. "I thought you of all women would prefer to go along in a dignified manner. But I see you're not the woman I thought you were."

"And you—!" she cried to him, "and you!"—she turned accusingly to the captain—"are not the men I thought you to be!"

Vashon backed her against the passage wall. She clutched her dress to her shoulders, but when he moved over her she was forced to drop one hand in order to fend him off. He easily took both her hands and her gown fell off her shoulder. With a moan, she looked down and saw her bosom barely covered by the thin binding of her chemise. She looked up and saw that he saw it too. The fire in his eyes only burned brighter.

"Let me go," she demanded in a quick, panting whisper.

"We will," he answered, brushing a loosened gold-red curl from her shoulder. "When we have what we want." His knuckles grazed her collarbone, and the feel of her skin seemed to please him, for he was reluctant to draw back his hand.

"Even if I had this information you wanted, I'd never give it to you now. Do you understand me?
Never.
Not after this treatment," she vowed, defiance coloring her eyes a vivid sea green.

"Ah, we'll see about that." He laughed darkly. "I haven't even tried to persuade you yet. Let's just get out of port, shall we? Then you can make all these vengeful promises . . . and I'll see what I can do to make you break them." His fingers slid along the hollows of her throat, and she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, trying desperately to shut him out.

How could she have ever dreamed about this beast? What was wrong with her that he could have made her believe even for a second that he was anything but ignoble? His finger caressed the upper swell of one breast and she violently met his gaze. But he hadn't completely fooled her. Beneath that veneer she'd seen glimpses of this man before—this
pirate.
Now he was taunting her. He wanted to see her crumple like the shrinking little maid that he thought she was. But he wasn't counting on one thing. There were no longer any rules. He'd erased them the minute she'd found out about her kidnapping. And now she was not going to play fair.

She bent her head and bit his hand as hard as she could. He jolted back and cursed heartily. Behind him she could hear the captain laugh.

"Just what you deserve, Vashon!" he called out. "I knew you'd underestimated her."

Vashon shot him a quelling look, and as he did so, she tried to slide from his grasp. With all
h
,er
remaining strength- she pushed him off her, but he had her in hand and slung across his broad shoulder in a matter of seconds. She struggled and kicked; all she fought was the air. Her bonnet slipped again and with it, a hail of horn hairpins hit the planks. Her tresses tumbled down his back like a rich gilt-red robe. As she watched the floor, her bonnet fell altogether, and he seemed to take great relish in crushing it beneath his booted feet.

"Stop!"
she finally demanded, beating at his back. She pulled on great handfuls of his white linen shirt as if that would prevent him from taking her away, but it didn't. He strode to the companionway, now the complete
victor,
and she knew there was nothing within her power to stop him.

She hadn't counted on help, however. They were almost to the hatch when suddenly she heard a familiar voice. She lifted her head and through the tangle of her hair she saw Flossie Lindstrom rushing toward them from the weather deck, her deadly pagoda-shaped parasol aimed directly at Vashon.
      

"Unhand
her this
instant, Vashon! Whatever are you thinking of!"

Surprised, Vashon barely had enough time to see his attacker before he took a hefty jab in the ribs with the end of the parasol. He grasped Aurora only harder, and though she suddenly resumed her struggling, he gave no quarter.

"Get her!" he barked at the captain who was still standing in his cabin's threshold, his jaw slack from disbelief. Reluctantly, Captain Corbeil moved forward to try to stop the widow and received several knocks on the head for his trouble. He finally wrestled the lethal parasol out of Flossie's hand, but still the widow would not give up.

"What is the meaning of this, Isaac?" Flossie
demanded,
her normally pink cheeks red from anger. "What are you both up to that you would allow Aurora to be abused this way?"

"Take that hazardous busybody to my cabin," Vashon ordered ominously, his patience at an end. "And take that," he pointed to the black parasol that the captain held in his hand, "and see that it is thrown overboard." With Aurora still helplessly slung over his shoulder, his face took on a look of utter exasperation,
then
he disappeared down the hatch.

Dismayed, Flossie turned to the captain. She looked about to rebuke him once more, but she then saw the pistol he held so expertly in his hand. Isaac's expression was stern and troubled and completely without compromise. Grimly he motioned for her to go down the hatch. With a look of utter betrayal on her face, Flossie picked up her skirts and rebelliously comported her generous figure down the companionway.

"You won't get away with this, Vashon," Flossie informed him as Isaac bound her, hand and foot, to a chair. She looked almost comical, her full black-swathed figure being subjected to the puny confines of a rope. "I have people in St. George's! They'll find you!" she threatened.

Vashon stood by the door coolly watching the proceedings. Overhead they heard the footsteps as the ship was prepared for sail. Looking confident of a quick departure, Vashon gave the widow a derisive snort. "I've eluded better men than your milk-fed relations, madam."

"Aurora and I were expected at the inn. When I don't return, all of Bermuda will be out looking for you!"

"And how will they know enough to look for me? Most of the passengers on this ship saw you disembark.' The only thing anyone will know for sure is that you left the inn and were never heard from again. They'll think you slipped from the docks and drowned."

"No! They know the
Seabravery
left early, and when Aurora's friends come looking for her, they'll piece everything together and know that we were kidnapped!"

Vashon began to laugh. Flossie appeared as if she would go into apoplexy at any moment.

"Is this true, little wren?" Vashon looked to Aurora.

She stood against the wall, her hands bound around the black japanned bedpost of Vashon's bed.

"Will all the fine peacocks of London come scouring the seas for you?" He lifted one black eyebrow.

As their gazes met, Aurora's expression remained cast in marble. She refused to show any fear. Yet they were truly in a desperate situation. There wasn't a soul in the world that would come looking for her. Aurora had nobody, absolutely nobody to miss her. Vashon was right, but she'd be damned if she'd confirm it.

"My fiancé will come," she informed him. "And he'll know something happened to me when I don't return his letters. He'll seek out Lady Perkins, and then he'll know whom to look for." She shot Vashon a venomous look,
then
turned away as if he were beneath her contempt.

Vashon's eyes narrowed. A cynical smile graced his lips. "There was no indication of a fiancé when we inquired into your situation. Who is this man? An illusion, I think. If you were engaged to be married, why were you so eager to be off to Jamaica and your new position? No, I think you're making that up,
Aurore
,
and I tell you now, lying, especially from you, is not going to be looked upon kindly on this ship."

"It's the truth," she said calmly, refusing to show her fury. "John Phipps asked me to be his wife. When he inherited the Home, he had every intention of marrying me."

"Then what stopped him?"

The question hung in the air like a net ready to fall. Aurora fumbled for an answer.

"John needed to sort out some problems. After the previous owner's death, he felt the Home needed to be run differently. I left so that he could get things in order. He'll be after you as soon as—"

Her words died as Vashon walked up to her. She flinched when he caressed her cheek, now burning in outrage.

"This man let you sail clear to Jamaica so that he could more easily settle his business problems? I think not." His gaze swept her figure, then lingered where her dress fell from her shoulders and hung tantalizingly at her bosom. Unable to help herself, Aurora clutched the bedpost as if it would shield her from him.

"Aurora, let me tell you a secret," he finished. "No man is that patient . . . or that stupid."

"I'm not making this up! John Phipps will be after you, and with the Royal Navy, too!"

"So be it. But if I'd cowered every time someone threatened me with the Royal Navy, I'd never rise from my bed in the morning." He took a deep breath. "Now, ladies," he said to both of them, "Isaac and I must get this ship out of port before another catastrophe occurs. When we're out to sea, you'll be released and attended to by Benny. If all goes well and Aurora cooperates, then you'll be let go at the next port. That will be San Juan. . . .

"However, if Aurora does not cooperate"—Vashon gave her a penetrating look—"then you'll both be taken to my island, and you'll stay there until she does."

"Where is this island?" Flossie demanded.

"Le Mirage de la
Mer
is aptly named. It's truly the mirage of the sea, and no one has yet to map it. So my telling you where it is will do you no good."

Flossie sighed in despair,
then
turned her
rath
upon Isaac, who was standing above her. "How could you do this to me? I thought—I thought—" she sputtered,
then
composed herself. "A curse on you, do you understand me? I thought you were a gentleman."

"Flossie," Isaac
said,
his voice full of annoyance, "when you left the ship, why did you
reboard
? Why didn't you just stay out of this? I told you I'd try to visit —what were you doing here? Were you looking for me?"

"Certainly not!" she spouted. "I was searching for Aurora. We were going to have refreshments at the inn, and when she didn't arrive, I worried that she might have somehow gotten lost. Never in my wildest nightmares did I suspect you were kidnapping her.
Oooooh
,
and I trusted you! I even asked you to tea in my cabin during this voyage! Whatever was wrong with me?"

With that statement annoying him further, Isaac strode to the door. Vashon gave both women a warning stare,
then
he too left the cabin.

When the men were gone, Flossie immediately turned to Aurora. "Oh, love, did that—that—
villain
hurt you? I must tell you I was never so shocked in my life to see him flinging you over his shoulder. Are you sure you're all right?"

Aurora gave her a wry smile and said, "My dress and my sensibilities are damaged, but nothing more. I'm so sorry you came back. How I wish, like Captain Corbeil, you were out of this."

"What does he want? I'll admit that I've heard pirates love beautiful captives, but this seems so planned, so premeditated. And Isaac! I cannot believe he'd do something this shocking without a good reason—to just take a young beauty and—"

"Vashon doesn't want me. He wants information, information I fear I do not possess." Aurora frowned and sat on the edge of Vashon's huge bed. "But maybe a lie will appease him, and he'll release us."

"Love, if there's one thing about Vashon that's certain it's that he does not look like a man easy to placate. No, I'm not at all sure lying is the answer. When you're caught, as you surely will be, it will go hard on you."

"Then I'll find another way to free us," Aurora announced, grasping at every possibility. "Eventually we've got to pull into port. When we do, I'll escape and bring help."

"As desperate as that sounds, my dear, that may be our only chance." Flossie gave her a concerned look. "But let's just pray our next port isn't Le Mirage de la Mer. With a name like that, the place must be impossible to find, let alone escape from."

"I'm afraid it does appear that way," Aurora answered bleakly, just as the ship lurched away from the dock.

Aurora stared out the thick, leaded ports that spanned the stern of the ship. Worry darkened her eyes. Flossie had long since been freed from her chair and escorted back to her former cabin by Isaac, but Aurora remained tied to Vashon's richly draped bed, still captive within the Babylonian splendor of his cabin. Benny, with
Koonga
well in tow, had come and brought a pot of tea, but he'd been under orders that only Vashon could free her, so she had mutely stood by, her hands still bound to the bedpost, while he set up her refreshment on a nearby
teapoy
.