Till Dawn Tames the Night (27 page)

"Neville," Vashon greeted the new Captain of the Guard, "I'm forever indebted to you. You came quickly."

The man named Neville answered in a soft island patois.
"De
guvnor
no friend of mine, Vashon."
He smiled a toothy, beautiful smile. "But neither are de
guvnor's
guards. I think
dey
take a bump on de head too personal."

"After we're gone, drop the guise and go back to your plantations. Don't stay for our return. It's too dangerous."

"We stay if you need us."

"No." Vashon shook his head. "I insist. I'll swim back to the
Seabravery
if I must."

"But what about de pretty lady?"

Aurora quickly shut her eyes and fervently hoped the night shadows had kept them hidden.

Vashon looked down at her, his expression hardening. "If she's truly ill, we may be in port for a while. If she's not, then I think she'll be swimming to the ship whether I go along or not."

All the men laughed, but there wasn't much time for levity. A horse was brought around and Vashon mounted, keeping Aurora well within his warm grasp.

Before they could depart, Neville seemed anxious to say something. Vashon pulled the horse around and faced him.

Neville finally spoke. "You know, friend, we be heroes tomorrow. Not too many on
dis
island
get to help you."

Vashon looked at the black man. He seemed at a loss for words. "Neville," he began, "you know there's always room for you on the
Seabravery.
For you and your men.
Damnation, if my ship were big enough, I'd take every last bastard on this island to La
Tortue
. But this time, say you'll join us. Get aboard. Philippe knows to expect you."

"Cannot, good friend.
There's work on
dis
island
. Someday
dis
island gonna be free."

Vashon sighed. He looked hard at Neville and closed his arm around Aurora. Reluctantly he nodded. There was nothing more to say. He urged his mount away, galloping quickly into the night.

In a few minutes they arrived at a neat little planter's cottage. A light burned through the white louvered wall of the loggia and Vashon quickly dismounted, carrying her gently toward the house.

"Who's there?" An aged man in a nightshirt that showed his skinny legs appeared at the door. He lifted his chamber candlestick and the light poured over them.

"God in heaven!
My eyes do deceive me! Is that Vashon?" the man exclaimed.

"In the flesh.
Sovens
, old man, how are you?" Without invitation, Vashon brought her into the house.

"I can't believe it!" The gent
Sovens
followed Vashon with his candlestick. He looked down at Aurora, limp in his arms, and said, "But I see I'll have to put my dismay aside for the moment. What have you brought me, son?"

"She fainted aboard ship. We docked for some water and she had a spell. She may have eaten something that soured."

Aurora was placed on a soft mattress in a room that smelled oddly of limes. She opened her eyes for a moment and saw the candlelight spill onto a lime tree through an open window.

Vashon continued speaking. "I'll be honest,
Sovens
, she's not too fond of my company. She may be faking this." His voice lowered. "But if she's not, she must be taken care of. I cannot afford to lose her."

Aurora thought she detected a trace of tenderness in his tone, but then she thought of her necklace and the rhyme and the wretched Star of
Aran
. All that was what he could not afford to lose, she reminded herself bitterly. That was all she was worth to anyone.

With a great cloak of despair descending upon her shoulders, she shut her eyes more tightly and prayed for the moment she would be left alone. She would climb out the open window and run into the cane fields, losing herself in the darkness. The island was small enough that she'd find her way back to town in no time and get word to the governor about Flossie's captivity. They would be free this evening. Flossie would be going back to St. George's and she . . . she would be going back to London.

London.
xxx

She heard water splash and then the doctor washing his hands. In the silence she thought of her future. Would John be too angry to allow her to return to the Home? Or would she need to look for a position elsewhere? Or would she not return there at all, instead going with Flossie to St. George's, where she might find a family in want of a governess?

Before she could stop her musings, they went a step further, right where she dreaded to go. She'd always hated to think it, to even put words to it, but nowhere in her future did she see a husband. She knew all the reasons: She possessed neither the dowry nor the family connections to get one, and she was not such a fiery temptress that she could expect to dazzle a man into believing those things weren't necessary. Even a common butcher boy expected his wife to bring something to their marriage, if only a pen of piglets.

Yet deep down she supposed she'd always held out the hope that someday, some way, a man would come along and want her despite her lack of possessions. She supposed that was why she'd gone on this adventure in the first place. Now here she was, out in the night with a pirate whose most lofty ambition was to escape the hangman—for just one more day. And the best she could hope for in concluding this journey was to go back to London and resume the dismal existence that she'd been so eager to escape.

With that last thought only depressing her further, she heard the physician speak.

"You know, Vashon.
the
obvious illness for a girl of this age is—"

"I sincerely doubt she's pregnant," Vashon answered almost derisively. "I know she's not got my babe in her and I can't see another one taking her. She's so damned stiff a
chap'd
find more lively company in Marylebone Cemetery."

She almost shot up and slapped him. Instead she was forced to lie there, not moving, all the while enduring the doctor's all-too-hearty laugh.

"I see."
Sovens
chuckled. "If she's that tight-laced, I don't envy you. I'm just glad you brought her here in a faint. Do you know what it's like telling these missies to undress so that I can examine them? It's like taking the horns off a bull, that's what. They think every man is out to ravish them. . . ."

Aurora felt the doctor take the pin from her apron front. She grew rigid just trying to think of her next move. Panic was beginning to overtake her. She'd never thought about the fact that she'd have to be examined. And with Vashon looking on as if he
were
some sort of privileged viewer! It was certainly ironic, especially since he'd been trying to get her clothes off ever since she'd arrived on the
Seabravery.

"Oh, damn."
Sovens
cursed and sucked the finger he'd just pricked on her pin. "I've got to get another candle. Excuse me, Vashon. These old eyes aren't what they used to be."

Aurora then heard the words for which she'd been praying. "Let me come help you,
Sovens
." Vashon moved to the door. "Perhaps you could even spare some of that monkey piss you natives call rum down here?"

She heard the doctor laugh, then the sound of footsteps leaving the room. Her heart hammered in her chest when she opened her eyes. She looked at the door. They were gone. The room was dark, the lone candle casting long shadows. But through the door she could hear
Sovens
fumbling around for another candle while Vashon was probably pouring himself a drink. Now was her chance. She couldn't delay.

She rose from the bed and slipped her feet to the floor. She backed away from the door, a soft curse from
Sovens
in the other room making her jump. She was almost to the window before she dared turn around to flee. But when the moment came, she scrambled for the window only to be captured in an unyielding embrace.

"My, my.
What a miraculous recovery." The anger in Vashon's voice froze her heart.

She gasped and struggled to see him in the darkness. She pulled away, but his arms had turned to well-tempered steel. There was no escape.

"And what have you to say for yourself, Aurora? You've made me come onto this island and risk my neck—"

"No, no! I didn't think you'd come here! Just let us go, Vashon! Just let Flossie and me go!" It was all she could do to keep her voice from quaking. He was furious. She could only imagine what her punishment would be.

The dim candlelight flickered over his face; the anger in his eyes flared like sparks of emerald. "You know," he whispered menacingly, "if I'm caught here, they'll take you to be my lover. They'll hang you with me, Aurora.
Right by my side.
Now wouldn't that be a fitting end for us both." He laughed bitterly and pulled her closer. She could smell lime in the hot tropical air and she could smell him, a scent deeper than the night. He was angry and he frightened her, but she forced herself to harden to it. For that was what he wanted. That was what pleased him most.
To see her cowering before him like slave to master.

"So was your trickery worth it then?" he whispered hotly. "Are you willing to be executed as my lover?"

With his words, her fury peaked. She remembered his earlier comments to the doctor, and though she knew it wasn't judicious to provoke him further, she couldn't stop herself. Defiantly she met his gaze and said, "I beg your pardon, but
no one
could mistake me for your lover. If you recall, I've been proclaimed a little less stirring than the corpses in Marylebone."

Without warning, he burst out laughing. His hold slackened, but not enough to free her. She was still in his arms when the doctor arrived with his candlestick.

"Up and about already?" he asked, amazed. "Why, I've never seen anything like it. Vashon, whatever cure you're dispensing, I should very much like to have it bottled for the rest of my patients!"

Aurora tried to twist free. When she couldn't, she began to plead. "Dr.
Sovens
, I beg of you. Help me. I've been kidnapped. Whatever you think you know of this man Vashon, you don't know anything about him. He's a pirate. He doesn't hesitate to do the worst kind of deed—"

"Come now, miss! Surely you're exaggerating! A pirate! No, he couldn't be!"
Sovens
winked at her, and Aurora couldn't remember the last time she'd been so completely taken aback.

"You—you don't believe me?" she gasped.

Sovens
chuckled. He looked at Vashon. "On the contrary, I believe you all too well. In fact, I used to serve on the
Seabravery.
I was ship's doctor until Vashon retired me a few years back."

"Oh, my God."
Aurora slumped in Vashon's arms. Her escape seemed even more hopeless now. She didn't know how she would get away again.

"But come now, buck up, miss. Surely Vashon hasn't been treating you that badly."

She summoned all the fury in her breast and said, "He's been the most appalling beast, not even worthy of the term 'gentleman'!"

"Gracious!
That bad?"
Sovens
looked at Vashon and almost smiled. "Well, then, I wish I could help you."

Aurora straightened. She held her arms out in supplication. "But you can! Summon help. There's another lady on the
Seabravery
and—" She stopped short.
Sovens
was adamantly shaking his head now.

"I'm sorry, miss. Even if I did try to summon help for you, not too many would stick out their necks on my behalf."

"But you're a physician! Surely a man of your standing could gather all kinds of support!"

"No, miss, I'm sorry. I administer to the blacks on this island, and that makes my status several notches below the barber . . . who sometimes lowers himself to treat the island's cows."

She looked at him. Again she was confronted with that terrible dichotomy. Here was a man who now spent his years caring for those whom most would deem unworthy of attention; and yet he'd sailed with Vashon, no doubt a willing participant to all of Vashon's notorious pursuits. The man was both noble and despicable. Much as she'd found Vashon to be.

"Surrender?"
Vashon asked, once more gaining the upper hand.

She never realized what a wretched word that was.

"Never," she whispered before he took her by the arm and pushed her to the door.

The governor's gilt barouche rocked back and forth as it climbed the promontory to the top of New Providence. Below, all the lights of the city twinkled through the colonnade of palms that lined the drive to the mansion. The ride was made in absolute silence as Flossie and Isaac did their absolute best to ignore each other.

It wasn't easy. For one thing the carriage was small and neither one of them possessed the slim girth of their youth. But worse than the cramped quarters were the stares they threw at each other like darts.

Flossie would attack first, unable to keep her emotions from sparking up into her eyes and hurling themselves silently upon Isaac. She stabbed him with one of her glittering, accusatory stares until he was forced to deflect it or allow himself to be unmanned. But when it was her turn to be the recipient of a particularly vile glare, she opened her eyes wide and nearly choked on the shock of it
all,
as if, by his retaliation, he was now even worse than the devil she thought he was—and how
dare
he look at her that way?