Till Dawn Tames the Night (5 page)

"And shall we leave the owner behind after all?" she asked, trying to divert her attention from his hand. Her question seemed to startle him, even though he quickly hid his feelings behind a facade of joviality.

"Oh no.
He'll be here, Miss Dayne.
That I can guarantee."
Abruptly he excused himself to go below and check on his men.

She was left alone for only a minute before Mrs. Lindstrom appeared. She was in a luxurious black wool pelisse that didn't quite hide the blue brocade of her dressing gown. Her bonnet was on crooked and she looked blowsy, as if she'd just been awakened from a deep sleep and hadn't had the mind to pull her appearance together.

"There you are, my dear!" The matron called to her and waved a hand through the air. "Can you believe the racket?
And at midnight!"

"Yes, it's quite something," Aurora agreed and made for her side. She was just about to speak when a further commotion broke out on the docks. As if expecting it, the captain appeared from
belowdecks
, and strode to the gangway. Curious, Aurora and Mrs. Lindstrom went to the railing and peered down at the dock.

Aurora had never seen such dark splendor. Below was a black japanned coach pulled by eight shiny black
steeds.
Its presence seemed to stamp out everything else as unimportant. Even the Midsummer revelry on
Queenhithe
seemed to hush and the pounding cease beneath their feet. The harness fittings were gold and a thin gold edging outlined the carriage, but there were no crests on the doors to identify the rider. Ominous was the only word for the vehicle, yet even that word was weak when it came to describing the man who appeared from inside it.

"My God . . ."

The matron gasped from the delicious horror of it all. Aurora felt Mrs. Lindstrom's hand take hold of her arm and though she wanted to comfort the older woman, somehow she found she hadn't the fortitude she thought she had. When she tried to speak, her voice would not come. As if captured by the man who was making his way onto the ship, her mouth would not form words and her gaze would not leave him.

He was tall—several inches taller than the captain, who was a tall man himself—yet the hint of barely restrained violence in this man made him appear towering. He wore a fashionable black
carrick
,
his coat sporting no fewer than nine capes. Beneath this Aurora could see a white batiste shirt and trousers made out of black superfine. From just his clothes, she would have guessed that the man conducted his life well within the confines dictated by society, but when she looked further, Aurora sensed there was very little that confined this man.

In truth, he flaunted fashion, and not with just the glossed-over ferociousness of his manner. He wore his hair almost down to his shoulder blades, tying the unruly black coils into a queue at his neck, a style unheard of for nearly twenty-five years. And a tiny silver hoop pierced his left earlobe, giving him an unspeakably wicked look, so that when all the parts were put together, there seemed only one way to describe him.

"He's a pirate!" Mrs. Lindstrom gasped, tightening her hold on Aurora's arm. Aurora wanted to soothe her, but there was no way to deny what she said when, in fact, she'd been thinking exactly the same thing.

From the shadows of the quarterdeck, they watched the man step onto the
Seabravery.
Captain Corbeil went to greet him, and it was clear they were well acquainted. Now it was obvious that the terrifying man was the owner for whom they had been waiting.

In one lucid moment Aurora was sure they were attributing too many sinister overtones to this man's presence. But then, as if to point her out, Captain Corbeil's gaze slid unwillingly to her figure.

And the owner's gaze followed.

Even though he was on the main deck below, the man's overpowering presence captured her. As if by spell, he forced her unwilling gaze to meet his own, and Aurora was shocked by his eyes: so startlingly beautiful, so startlingly cold. He bestowed barely a glance upon her, but in that time his gaze was so utterly thorough she felt as if even her soul were under his scrutiny. He had such a tight hold on her that even when the moment passed and he had turned back to the captain, she couldn't tear her gaze away. Nor escape from the dread that was beginning to seep into her very bones.

"Oh, what excitement!
What exquisite terror!" she heard Mrs. Lindstrom whisper to her.
"In all my days!
Aurora! That man is a pirate! A pirate! Oh, we're certainly in for an adventure now!"

Aurora stared at her. In dismay, she found her hand clinging to Mrs. Lindstrom's arm quite as tightly as the matron's clung to her own. Looking down, she watched the owner disappear
belowdecks
. Rationally, she had no reason to think anything wrong, but still she couldn't shake the feeling that something was happening. And as mad as it sounded, she couldn't dispel the frightening thought that it concerned her.

In one swell of panic, she released Mrs. Lindstrom's arm. Guided by instinct alone, she walked to the gangway and had every intention of leaving the ship, even if it meant crawling back to the Home with her pride on her sleeve. But at once she heard the clicking of the capstan and the heavy fall of water rushing off the weighed anchor. To her utter dismay, the gangplank had already been lifted, and there was nothing below her but the black glittering waters of the Thames. Appalled, she turned to Mrs. Lindstrom. The widow's face mirrored her own. In desperation Aurora's eyes wildly scanned the decks for escape, but, like it or not, there was no going back now.

Her adventure had begun.

"We've got her."

With that statement, Vashon tossed off his
carrick
and flung it onto the dolphin-legged settee. Kicking a chair out from under a table, he turned the chair around and sat down, his hands gripping its back.

"I think she's really quite a nice little maiden, Vashon. I hope you'll handle her with care. I don't see it to our advantage to frighten her now." Isaac Corbeil took off his gold-embellished captain's cap and rubbed his balding pate.

"How am I going to frighten her?" Vashon smiled a rare and fleeting smile. His teeth
gleamed
a wicked white against his evening growth of beard, and for a quick, elusive moment, he looked almost happy.

The captain sighed. "Good God, but have we done some terrible deed, Vashon? I mean, this girl's not some easy-
virtued
wench from La
Tortue
that we can haul away without so much as a by-your-leave."

"Don't be absurd. This is the best thing that's ever happened to the chit." Vashon released a mirthless laugh. "She's better off with us than at that rotten almshouse, by half."

"Perhaps, but her complexion certainly lost that pretty apricot glow when she set eyes on you."

"She'll hold up." Vashon's mouth twisted sarcastically. "Too, we may be underestimating her abilities to take care of herself. After all, she took one glance at me and looked ready to jump overboard. So at least she's a woman of action."

Isaac chuckled and shook his head. "Yes, I suppose she is."

"Besides, if you're worried about me, I'll have you know I'm certainly not in the habit of taking my pleasure with stiff, proper little virgins, fresh-faced from the orphanage."

With that statement, the captain sobered. "Nonetheless, Vashon, when you look beneath this girl's timid demeanor and worn clothing, you might just find yourself caught unawares. I did. Aurora
Dayne's
certainly not like that horse-faced Gideon woman we took on board today."

Vashon gave him a jaded stare. "Why would I even look at that baggage? The girl's a shabby little prig. I've seen finer feathers on a sparrow."

"Yes, but it's difficult to notice her garments once she's captivated you with that face. Already she's garnered the attention of the seamen. Her bonnet blew off in the breeze this afternoon. That sorry lot was almost dumbstruck when she turned and smiled at them before righting it again."

Vashon's eyes suddenly flashed. "She's our only hope of finding the Star of
Aran
. So I hope you'll see to it that they won't be bothering her. Otherwise,
I
'll
see to it they won't . . . permanently."

"Ah, my good man!"
Isaac laughed. "That really won't be necessary! We do need
some
crew to sail the ship!"

Vashon shot him a black look. Then his humor returned. A dark smile tugged the corner of his lips. "But I'll admit one thing about the girl. I thought spinsters who ran orphanages were supposed to be warty little hags with thin lips and even thinner figures. Now why does our Miss Dayne not fit that description?"

"Perhaps for the same reason that most think pirates who've made their fortune plundering ships are scurvy, toothless villains with the skull and crossbones hoisted on their masts—not the Union Jack." Smugly Isaac crossed his arms.

Vashon finally smiled altogether. "I suppose you're referring to me?"

"Who else?"

"Well, then, let me get out my eye patch. At least that should give that old Widow Lindstrom a thrill."

"I'm afraid that old girl already half expects something like that. I think you'll have to do better."

Both men laughed.

The captain finally looked at Vashon in awe. "I admit it now,
Vashon,
I really didn't think this scheme of yours would work. I had no idea Miss Dayne would actually be so anxious to leave England. I truly harbored some fears we'd have to sneak into that orphanage in the middle of the night and roll her up in a carpet."

"Why
do
something so messy when you can have the chit walk right into your hands? Or your
ship, as it were
."

"Kidnapping by any other name . . ."

"Would still smell as sweet," Vashon finished. With a vengeance-he added, "Besides, should we have thrown her to Blackwell?"

Isaac stared at him for a long moment. "You know, it never fails to impress me that you can refer to Peterborough by the title Blackwell. My God, man, how that name must rot in your gut."

"Not at all," Vashon answered. "He did much to get that title. Until I've the desire to take it away from him, he may have it. In truth, I might not enjoy toying with him so much, if he had nothing to lose."

"You're a bigger man than I, Vashon.
Or a colder one.
I'm not sure."

Vashon smiled. "Come now, Isaac, surely my magnanimous nature has impressed you. I've saved our dear Miss Dayne from a terrible fate. Her father stole that emerald from Peterborough, and knowing him as we do, I shouldn't think the viscount would be too charitable."

"No," Isaac agreed. "Old Blackwell wouldn't be. Michael Dayne certainly picked the wrong man to rob. Have they ever found out what happened to him?"

"I heard someone say once that they thought they saw him hanging from one of the viscount's oaks. But I think that poor bloke was somebody caught poaching, not Miss
Dayne's
father."

"Well, if Blackwell treats his poachers so harshly, perhaps Aurora Dayne can count her blessings she's on the
Seabravery
now." As if to signal his leaving, Isaac put on his captain's cap and said, "I'll inform the crew that you're pleased, Vashon, and that everything is going as planned. They're all concerned about this voyage, you know. I'm afraid a lot of men's hopes rest on Miss
Dayne's
shoulders."

"Yes," Vashon agreed, turning pensive. "It's hard to believe our fortunes all hinge on that shabby little churchmouse."

"You may see her as a shabby little churchmouse, but still she's a lady beneath all that raggedy brown fustian. I hope when you deal with her, you'll remember that."

Vashon gave him a cynical smile. "Let me remind you, Isaac. Our
Miss
Dayne's
not exactly the cream of society. Her father was a thief by trade, her mother, God only knows what, and she grew up a pauper in an orphanage."

"Yes, yes." Isaac nodded. "But she doesn't know about her parentage and I'm sure she'd be horrified to find out."

"Well, perhaps it's time the little miss knows who she is," Vashon stated coolly.

"I suppose. But still, she strikes me as quite an innocent. And I don't think anything can change that. Not even you."

"You underestimate me then, Isaac."

"I've never underestimated you, Vashon."

Vashon met Isaac's stare. A look passed between the two men, a look fraught with the shared agonies of the past. Uncomfortable, Vashon looked away. Making light of the captain's comment, he said, "Isaac, never fear for that little brown wren. Between you and the old widow clutching at the girl's arm, I'm sure she'll be quite safe from all my treachery."

Isaac chuckled and the tension left his face. "Yes, yes, I suppose you're right. That old Mrs. Lindstrom has been hanging on to Miss Dayne like a bulldog."

Disgruntled, Vashon reached for a brandy decanter on the caryatid table.

Isaac watched him and sighed. "How I wish I could join your celebration. But the men must be casting off the hawsers by now and I have to get this ship out of the docks before they sink it."