Vashon pulled down a brace of pistols. He checked to see they were loaded, then tucked them in the waist of his trousers.
"Why are you arming yourself?" she asked. She couldn't help adding sarcastically, "Have your men had enough of your tyranny and decided to mutiny?"
He flashed her a wicked grin. "No, we have visitors."
Her eyes widened. "But it's night. How could you know?" At once she turned to the aft ports. Dawn was breaking and the sea and sky had melted into one dove-colored canvas. The only blight was the large silhouette of a ship bearing down on them from the east. A shiver of inexplicable fear ran down her spine. Even at that distance she could see it bore no flag.
She quickly shrugged off her trepidation. The approaching ship was the closest thing to salvation she might have. And it could hardly be worse than the one she was on. Perhaps it wasn't flying colors in order to defend itself. It was quite possible the Seabravery was renowned in these waters as a pirate ship. Certainly, from what she had gathered, the Seabravery's owner was well known as a pirate.
She stole another glance at the ship on the horizon. There sailed a chance for freedom. If she could bolt from the cabin, perhaps she could signal it to rescue her and Flossie.
She nervously looked at Vashon. He had relocked the cabinet so there was no chance of her procuring a weapon. She would just have to be quick and catch him unawares. If she were lucky, she could be on the weather deck calling for help before he could stop her.
Her gaze riveted to his figure as he unlocked the cabin door. There would be only a second for her to slip through it, but she had to give it one desperate try. The bolt clicked open and he stepped back to pass through the door. That was her opportunity. She flew to the passage and had two steps outside the cabin before he caught her. She cried out as he pulled her by her wrist back into the cabin. She dragged on the ground, trying to free herself, but his grip on her arm was like iron. She pulled at his fingers but they stuck like glue. Finally, in a last futile attempt, she reached into her pocket and produced her scissors, digging them into his hand. He grunted and immediately let go. She scrambled once more for the open door, but he had it shut before she even reached it. He had her scissors before she could even raise her hand to use them again.
When she backed against the closed door, she noted that she had left him with a vicious scratch on the back of his hand. But his reaction to his wound was less than satisfying. Far from appearing hurt—or even irritated— he took one glance at the tiny embroidery scissors in his palm and rolled his eyes in amusement. He then went about his business as if the entire incident hadn't happened.
"I mean to escape," she called out defiantly. "As you can see I'm not unwilling to inflict injury. So why don't you let me go before I get my hands on a real weapon and truly do you harm."
He stared at her, a sarcastic smile gracing his lips. "You're right, Miss Dayne, what a fool I've been to think I could best you." Mocking her, he put one of his pistols in her hands and made a great display of showing her the trigger.
Shocked, she looked down at the pistol in her hand. Now she didn't know what to think.
"Go on, do your worst," he instructed as she, dumbstruck, held the gun to him.
"What are you trying to prove?" she asked, her voice shaking.
"Come along. If you want to be free, shoot me. Otherwise, I've got to meet the ship that's fast approaching."
"Are you out of your mind? Do you want to be killed?"
"The question is, Miss Dayne, are you a killer?"-He taunted, "Come along. Shoot me."
She couldn't believe this man. He was daring her to shoot him. But could she? Could she live with herself if she actually killed him? When she didn't move, he laughed, and she almost wondered if she couldn't. She despised him as she had never despised anyone. Yet could she shoot him?
"Pull the trigger. You'll be on the deck in a second if you do."
Slowly she lowered the pistol. As much as she wanted her freedom, she couldn't have his blood on her hands. And that was just what he was counting on. He took back the pistol as if he'd never given it to her. Striding to the door, he was almost out of the cabin before she grabbed his sleeve and forced him to listen.
"You won't lock me in this cabin again! I'm determined that Flossie and I shall be on the approaching ship and away from here this very hour!" She was so furious she could hardly hold on to him. He took her every plan and rendered it impotent.
He paused and pressed her to the door. "Miss Dayne, believe me, you don't desire to be on that ship."
"I do! Even a lowly packet would be preferable to this floating pirates' den. Let me out of here! This instant!" she hissed, her eyes locking on his.
"You want to leave?" He pressed her closer to the door. "Fine. You shall meet the illustrious captain and crew of the Bleeding Heart. If it's still your desire to depart with them, then I shall not stop you."
"Do you truly mean—?"
Before she could finish, he grabbed her. He turned pensive while he looked at her bound hair. An idea suddenly occurred to him and he chuckled. Before she could stop him, he released a pin from her hair and let one long lock fall to her bosom.
"Let's give the men of the Bleeding Heart some booty, shall we?" His lips turned up in a cold smile, and he took her tiny scissors and snipped off the gilt-red tress. With it held fast in his palm, he then opened the cabin door and pushed her ahead of him onto the weather deck.
Chapter Ten
The Bleeding Heart grew more ominous as it approached. Backlighted by the ruby dawn, the ship appeared almost black, like a great oily raven swooping down on the noble Seabravery.
Aurora watched from the quarterdeck while the men of the Seabravery readied their ship for a confrontation. There was tension in the air as men scrambled down the ropes and up the companionways, but Aurora had the distinct feeling that her ship's able seamen had seen confrontation before. In fact, some seemed to almost relish what was to come. Such as Vashon.
She watched him on the quarterdeck. Every now and again he would shout an order, switching elegantly from French to Spanish or to whatever language the particular seaman whose attention he had could understand. But when the Seabravery was prepared to his satisfaction, Vashon seemed almost pleased to see the dread ship approaching. His eyes were alight with anticipation, and his step seemed quicker and full of purpose. When he caught her staring at him, he actually smiled, but it wasn't a cheerful, encouraging smile. It was a covetous, disturbing one, as if she were the Star herself, and he knew no one else could have her.
"Still hoping she'll rescue you?" Vashon walked by and shot a glance at the Bleeding Heart, which was now only a few hundred yards away.
Aurora surveyed the oncoming ship one more time. It actually wasn't black, but there was so much pitch slopped on its bow that the ship appeared black. When she looked further, she noted that the sails were tattered around their edges and they were a dirty shade of gray, in stark contrast to the Seabravery's crisp, bleached canvas sails. But the true sign that the Bleeding Heart was not destined to be her salvation was the ship's flag, which its crew was just now hoisting up the mast. The flag consisted of a smiling skull, and beneath it bony hands held out a bloody heart. Shocked by the gruesome image, Aurora couldn't stop her sharp intake of breath.
"I see you're having a change of heart." A smile twisted Vashon's lips.
She suddenly longed for even the security of his wretched cabin. "I take it the approaching vessel is a pirate ship," she blurted out.
"Your powers of observation are phenomenal, Miss Dayne."
Angered by his sarcasm, she added, "And it's no wonder that ship is coming this way. You know what they say, 'Birds of a feather . . .' " Abruptly she turned away and focused on the Bleeding Heart. She was devastated to realize there would be no escape there, but then, suddenly, an awful thought occurred to her. She turned back to Vashon and put her hand on his steely arm. "You— you aren't perchance thinking
to hand Flossie and me over to them? Perhaps to persuade them not to attack?"
He looked down at her delicate hand on his arm. He covered it with his own large one, and said, "You sound almost hopeful, Aurore. Should I?"
She gasped. "You cannot . . . they're pirates!"
"And what am I?"
"A pirate." Her eyes darkened and her gaze locked with his. He laughed.
The situation was hopeless. She was caught between the spider and the web. "How do you know these men?" she asked in a strained voice.
"Ah, let's just say they're old acquaintances."
She should have bitten her sarcastic tongue, yet she couldn't stop herself from saying, "What, old chums from pirate school?"
His laughter only grew louder. "Now that you know who you're up against, who do you choose to go with? Them or me?"
She looked away and reluctantly made her decision. "I suppose the Seabravery would be the lesser evil. At least she flies the Union Jack."
"Not always."
She abruptly looked at him, then followed his gaze toward the spanker. She blanched. In place of the flag that had previously flown there, a black banner was now unfurled, painted with the image of a dragon regardant. It was the exact dragon tattooed on Vashon's back.
She put her hand to her temple to think. Somehow she had to escape this terrible ship. But now she had to make sure she didn't land in hands worse than the ones she was already in. It was going to be a hellish task.
"What? No scathing comments?" he taunted. "No maligning of my character, no calling me traitor?"
"Why should I? You've now revealed your true colors." She tore her gaze from the spanker. "I suppose you only hide behind Britain's flag when you're running from the Royal Navy."
"Ah, there it is. So are you calling me a coward, Miss Dayne?"
She set her jaw and refused to look at him.
He only laughed. "You may not believe this, but the Seabravery is the best of my fleet—all of which make legitimate runs from London to New York, and all of which fly the Union Jack."
"From time to time. Only when it suits you, I presume."
"Aye. When it suits me, which is all the time."
"But not now," she said harshly.
"No, not now," he answered as he glanced at the banner, "because more run from my flag than from the Union Jack."
"The Bleeding Heart isn't running." She looked and saw that in a few minutes the two ships would meet.
"The Bleeding Heart doesn't look like much, but it matches the Seabravery in gun power. If she so chose, right now we could be blowing each other from the water."
"But they fear the dragon too much?"
He studied her. His gaze flickered down her petite figure, his eyes warming appreciatively where he found the drab linen running taut across her bosom. With an enigmatic expression on his face, he touched one red-gold curl that had freed itself from her hairpins and now graced her temple.
"Let's just say I've precious cargo on board," he finally said. "Cargo the Bleeding Heart would be loath to destroy." With that, he caged her in his arms. Standing behind her, he locked his hands on the railing on either side of her bodice, and whether she wanted to or not, together they waited for the Bleeding Heart to come about.
The evil-looking ship soon came alongside the Seabravery. The crew of each ship stood deathly quiet at the railing, facing each other like soldiers waiting for the command to attack. Aurora looked down at the weather deck. Captain Corbeil stood at the deckhouse nervously rubbing his crippled hand. Meanwhile the captain of the other ship turned his attention to Vashon.
"Vashon!" the pirate captain yelled across the water. "How good it is to see you, mon amiV
Vashon grinned. Aurora could feel his heartbeat at her back. It quickened.
"Azzedine, salaudl What do you want? If you're looking for your keeper, I believe we left all the sharks in the reefs of Bermuda."
The captain of the Bleeding Heart laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach. Eventually he called out, "Vashon, I was always a man to appreciate your humor! But I think Peterborough will not be amused at your description!"
"Tell Peterborough there's no blood for him to feed upon on this ship!"
"I told him you wouldn't cooperate!" The captain laughed and shook his head. He was a short man, swarthy and unkempt. There was an exotic air about him, with his flashing black eyes and smooth, coffee-colored skin, and Aurora surmised he might be Moroccan or Algerian. He was almost handsome, but even from her distance, she could see he possessed several rotten and missing teeth.
"And who is the pretty one, Vashon?" the pirate called out. He turned his stare on Aurora, and it was so abominably crude that she found herself pressing back into Vashon's chest.
"Ah, this is my little gem, Azzedine." Vashon put his arms around her and made a great display over relishing the scent of her hair. "And you'll never guess where I found her!" he shouted. "At an almshouse in London! One must never overlook the mundane, my friend. You never know where you'll find treasure."
Aurora flinched. She desperately wanted to break free of Vashon's hold, but for the moment she was trapped. If she fought to be away from Vashon, he just might grant her desire and give her to the Bleeding Heart. Instinctively she knew she was better off aboard the Seabravery. She remained still and endured the gentle assault.
"I want you to meet Aurora, Azzedine!" Vashon continued. "This is Miss Aurora Dayne, a prized passenger of the Seabravery. We should not like to lose her company too soon."
"I see that," Azzedine remarked, his eyes turning serious. "And if I had such a lovely companion, I think I would be sorry to see her go! But I'm supposed to take her, Vashon. And for that I request permission to board so that I may negotiate her price."
With these words Aurora pressed even further into Vashon's chest. He was supposed to take her? Was every pirate on the high seas out to kidnap her? Unconsciously she clutched at Vashon's arms. Vashon chuckled and pulled her to him. She was so close she could feel his chest rumble when he laughed. She still despised Vashon. He seemed to enjoy her panic considerably.
"Azzedine!" he called out happily, "By all means, come aboard! Break your fast with us! But I warn you, she's not going with you! I'll see you dead, Azzedine, as sorry as that would make me!"
Azzedine chuckled again. He waved to Vashon, then the crew of the Seabravery made ready for him to board.
"They still talk about you in the Casbah, Vashon. The women still miss you, the men still hate you." Finished with his meal, the pirate captain Azzedine laid down his fork and rubbed his belly. He looked almost self-satisfied. If he could kidnap her and escape on the Bleeding Heart, Aurora was sure he'd call it a perfect day.
As if Vashon didn't want this chamber pot of a man in his personal quarters, she, Vashon, and the Algerian ate instead in the roundhouse, where the passengers out of London had taken their meals. To Aurora those carefree days seemed like weeks ago.
The chef had made a huge, elaborate meal as if the ship were hosting royalty rather than a grimy, predatory corsair. But despite the delicious fare, Aurora found she had no appetite. All through the meal she felt the Algerian's gaze crawling on her. Though it was clear Vashon held Azzedine by a tight leash, it was all too obvious that Azzedine longed to achieve his mission. But since even he seemed to know he was no match for Vashon, the captain of the Bleeding Heart, by the inexplicable camaraderie of outlaws, could only accept Vashon's hospitality, then take his leave.
Vashon ripped the Algerian's gaze from Aurora with a harsh stare of his own, leaned back in his chair, and smiled. "Ah, the Casbah," he commented. "I must admit I still have fond memories. Is the Rue Ben Ali still as narrow and treacherous as I remember? You could hide a thousand thieves along that street and never find even one."
"Ah, yes," Azzedine added slyly, "and I forgot to mention that the dey still hates you too—even he could not find you after you stole into the palace and into the arms of his eldes
t daughter."
Vashon laughed. "And is there still a bounty on my head? It's no wonder I was forced into legitimate business. The dey's scimitar is sharp, c'est comprisV
"The bounty still holds, Vashon, and you know I'm not above collecting it myself."
"If you could," Vashon answered easily.
"Yes, if I could." Azzedine sighed. "But since I cannot, perhaps I will bring the dey to you instead. You know he still boils with rage whenever someone even mentions the name Vashon. It was quite clever of you when he offered one hundred pieces of gold for your head to offer five hundred pieces for his."
"I'm still insulted that he didn't think me worth more." Vashon made a great display of looking wounded and suddenly both men laughed.
But not Aurora. She sat next to Vashon, pushing the fried plantain around on her plate. She found all the talk of the Casbah ironic. She had read once that Algiers was referred to as "the White City" because of the Casbah's blindingly brilliant stucco-on-brick houses that cascaded down the hillside to the city's teeming port. It had always struck her as odd that a place with a name as pure and magical as the White City was really the shelter for pirates, smugglers, spies, and other villains.
But if the Casbah was truly such a notorious place, the two men before her would certainly fit in. One pirate appeared as though he'd just as soon steal a leper's cane as shake a man's hand. But as wicked as Azzedine looked, Vashon looked more so. He gave off the aura of a man unafraid of confrontation. Long after the likes of Azzedine put their tails between their legs and fled, Vashon would keep going. Aurora suddenly realized that that was the most frightening thing about him: Vashon was not afraid to die. Men instinctively knew this and kept their distance. But what could force a man to value his bravado over his life? She came to only one answer: a man who had needed that bravado to survive.
Till Dawn Tames the Night Page 13
