Till Dawn Tames the Night

by Meagan Mckinney

  "So, Vashon," Azzedine began, drawing all eyes to him, "what am I to tell Peterborough if I show up empty-handed?"

  "You mean when you show up empty-handed," Vashon corrected.

  Azzedine laughed. "Ah, my mistake, mon ami. There was never much I could get by the dragon. But what shall I tell him? Peterborough really wants the girl. I wish you would let me have her." Once more the pirate turned his glittering black stare on Aurora. She glared back at him, but still she felt like a fatted calf on market day.

  "You can't take her, Azzedine, but I will offer this." Vashon nonchalantly produced the tress that he had cut from Aurora's head. He tossed it across the table. "Give this to Peterborough with my compliments. And tell him he need no longer search for the Star. It's already mine."

  "I will," Azzedine agreed, "if that is the only choice you give me." His stare grew more bold, and Aurora nearly felt like retching. The Algerian was little better than the scum she used to scrub from the Home's only hip bath. Just the thought of his touching her was enough to make her want to jump overboard. And clearly, he wanted to do much more to her than merely touch her.

  "Azzedine, 'thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's ass.' " Vashon once again got the pirate's attention. Azzedine's gaze obediently flew from Aurora to the Seabravery?, owner.

  "That's better," Vashon commented dryly, obviously not liking the way the pirate had been assessing what Vashon deemed to be his property.

  Aurora met Vashon's eyes and her cheeks flamed with anger. She couldn't stand another minute of this torture. She was not chattel, and she refused to let anyone treat her as such. She was hardly thankful for Vashon's inter­vention. In fact, as far as she was concerned, the one pirate was little better than his wretched comrade.

  Abruptly she stood. "I do hope you gentlemen will excuse me, but I find I really must attend to my toilet." Just as she spoke, Azzedine picked up the lock of hair from the table. He brought it to his nose to experience its scent, and she was overcome with fury. She didn't like having parts of her person going to some man named Peterborough. If Vashon was not going to give her over to the Bleeding Heart, then she was ready for a little rebellion.

  "Aurora, where do you think you're going?" Vashon demanded in a tone of voice she had heard all too fre­quently from John Phipps.

  She walked to the galley door. Her eyes narrowed defi­antly. "I'm going to my cabin. And I don't need to be accompanied."

  "How can you be so rude to the Seabravery's only guest?" Vashon's lips twitched in a smile. "Sit, Aurora, and finish your meal."

  "I'm not hungry."

  His jaw tensed. "If you continue like this, my love, there won't be much of you with which to barter."

  "What a vile tragedy then, most especially for you, sir." She shot him a rebellious glance, then made to exit, but before she could she heard Vashon bolt from his seat. Her arm was taken in a viselike grip, and she was forced into the passage, away from the prying eyes of the Alge­rian.

  "Aurora," Vashon whispered down at her, "I'll grant that you may go this time, but I warn you, this behavior won't be tolerated in the future. You may go to my cabin, but do not stray. The men of the Bleeding Heart are all too anxious to claim their booty, and I don't think you'd find their company all that . . . enjoyable."

  She thrust her arm away and spat, "You needn't worry, sir. I've no desire for the company of pirates." Her flashing eyes gave little doubt that he was included in that group.

  "Pirates or not, you heed my words, Aurore." He shook her lightly.

  "I understand . . . but then again, perhaps I don't." She taunted, "Perhaps I'd be better off on the Bleeding Heart. Perhaps this Peterborough you speak of would at least know that one does not treat a human being like a piece of merchandise to be bought and sold to the highest bidder—"

  He grabbed her up in his arms, cutting off her words. He shook her until her head seemed to spin. "You listen to me, you little baggage! You're better off on this ship than anywhere else! And if you're ever so foolish as to contemplate running to Peterborough, you think again! I've seen Peterborough burn a man to death by stuffing oakum into the poor bastard's mouth and setting it aflame. Peterborough laughed the entire time. So you praise almighty God that He put you in my hands, be­cause you could be far, far worse off!"

  "Stop . . . stop!" she demanded breathlessly, trying to wrestle from his hold. When at last she was free, she looked up and saw his face hardened with anger. A sob escaped her lips and she wondered how to answer his gruesome story. It didn't seem possible that a man as horrible as this Peterborough could exist, but every time she looked into Vashon's emerald eyes, she saw that he spoke the truth. And now, because of her father—a fa­ther she hadn't even known—she was at the center of the maelstrom in this pirate's violent world.

  Shaken, she tried to think of some sort of denial. But there was none. He knew this man Peterborough, not she. If Vashon told her the man was a monster, she had no choice but to believe him and continue on this treach­erous journey until escape was at hand.

  "It was not my intention to frighten you, little wren." Softening at her pale features, he stepped toward her in the narrow passage, but she warded him off with an accu­satory glance.

  "It was your every intention to frighten me," she re­marked stiffly, "and it has been from the moment I boarded this ship. You're an uncivilized, licentious crimi­nal whose only pleasure seems to come from bullying those weaker than you—but you won't be bullying me for long."

  His eyes suddenly warmed. "Ah, there's that spirit I see so little of. You know, Aurore, you should be glad I've kidnapped you and made you fight, otherwise you'd have withered and died at that almshouse."

  "It—was—not—an—almshouse]" she hissed.

  He burst into appreciative laughter and when she could stand it no more, she picked up her skirt and sped to the solitude of his cabin, still hearing his laughter long after she had shut the door.

  Chapter Eleven

  Once in the cabin, Aurora fumed and paced the dragon-covered carpet. What a mess she was in—did she give that plunderer her rhyme and have faith that he would release her and Flossie unharmed? Or did she continue to endure his lascivious behavior in the hope that she might gain the leverage to bargain with him? She didn't know. She needed to speak with Flossie, but he was keeping them well apart.

  She bit her lower lip and thought about her limited avenues of escape, but the noise from the ship next to them distracted her. Outside the open ports she could hear the men of the Bleeding Heart carrying on aboard their ship. She heard laughter and the strains of a fiddle being played. Obviously the seamen were having a grand time while their captain was being entertained aboard the Seabravery.

  She went to close the ports, yet just as she was going to do so, something odd caught her eye. Vashon's black satin bed-curtains, which were usually tied well back from the bed with heavy gold-tasseled cords, now were completely closed. It was strange, especially since the bed-curtains were only used in a cold climate, not in the balmy summertime Atlantic.

  Frowning, she couldn't think of a reason why Benny would have closed them. -She stared at them for a mo­ment wondering what she should do, then timidly stepped to the black-draped bedstead. It was probably silly of her, but she knew she wouldn't feel safe until she discovered for herself that there was no one behind those curtains.

  Her hand reached out and she grasped one edge of the heavy Chinese satin. She meant to quickly whip it back and expose whoever might be lurking there, but before she had the chance, a meaty arm reached out from the black shimmering depths and pulled her off her feet.

  "What 'ave we here?" a voice said before she was taken into a bone-crushing grasp. The stench of a wet dog ema­nated from the man's damp clothing. His beard held drops of sea water, but even wet, the graying, scraggly mass still looked as though it was the perfect haven for nits.

  "Release me!" she screeched, trying to pull from the man's hefty arm. Her heart seemed to pound in her ears, she was
so terrified.

  "Ye sound another word, fair lady, and I'll slit yer throat from ear to ear."

  A glittering knife appeared in the man's other hand, and he held it deftly to the pulse in her neck. She moaned and stilled her trembling hands. She was so frightened she could almost feel her blood thrum through her veins. If she dared move an inch, the blade would prove lethal.

  "Tha's it, now. Speak softly," he instructed when she had ceased to move, "I've a few questions for ye."

  "You're from the other ship, then?" she whispered. She hardly knew why she was asking. The men of the Seabravery were never so dirty and unkempt.

  When the man nodded, she nearly fainted from horror. She didn't know how the ruffian was going to manage to sneak her off the Seabravery, but if he'd managed to steal aboard undetected, she didn't doubt he could do it. Then what would become of her? She now knew her situation would be much worse on the Bleeding Heart.

  "Whose cabin is this?" he demanded.

  "This is Vashon's cabin."

  "Ah, Vashon. That bastard. Me and the men of the Bleedin' Hearfve had a gutful of him."

  She saw hate fill the man's watery eyes. It was clear he'd had a confrontation with Vashon before . . . and lost.

  Desperate to reason with the brute, she asked, "Dare you come here and risk his fury then? You must know he won't be pleased to find me missing."

  He released a phlegmy chuckle. "I dare this for a jewel as big as me nose. I aim to be a rich man afore this is over, and I hear ye're just the maid to help me." He pulled her off the bed. His rough hold had already left her bruised.

  "But you must listen! I can't help you! I don't know where the Star is!" she protested, trying desperately to sound unafraid.

  "Oh, ye'll help all right. Peterborough knows a thing or two about how to get a wench to talk. We'll get the Star's whereabouts out of ye—and perhaps a little some­thing more, eh?" He laughed and squeezed her waist. When she pulled back, the tip of the knife was stuck further into the hollow of her throat. "Ye are a pretty little package . . ." he whispered, bringing her further against his chest. He licked his lips, and that frightened her more than any of his words. His gaze snaked over her figure until her skin crawled.

  "Vashon will hardly let you escape," she said, trying to pull the man's eyes up to her face. "I daresay from what I've seen of him he'll know quite well how to deal with the likes of you."

  "Vashon will be too dead to do much, lovey." His hand moved up her rib cage and she had to swallow her bile.

  "How—how do you know that?"

  "Azzedine's orders. Once Vashon's dead we'll take the ship . . . and its pretty cargo." He looked down at her meaningfully. His salty finger tried to touch her lips, but she pulled back in horror. This only angered him. "Too foin fer me, lovey?" he asked before slamming her down onto Vashon's mattress.

  "No!" she cried out, but quickly the knife was pressed again to her throat. She struggled with the man as he tried to lie atop her, but even so she was no match for him. He was stocky and muscular, and when the tip of his dagger threatened to pierce her skin, she knew the battle could not be won. But still she fought him. She sobbed and kicked away his hand as he pulled at her skirt. Yet he only laughed. Her resistance seemed to arouse him further. He had hold of her pantalets before she could stop him. When she heard that garment tear, she let out a low moan. He was going to rape her; there seemed no way to stop him. But just as she felt his knife dig into her flesh, the pirate sailed off her and landed in the corner.

  "Say something, Robert," Vashon said, looming over the man. "Say something to make me spare your life."

  Aurora gasped and raised herself to a sitting position. The door to the cabin was wide open. Somehow Vashon must have heard her struggling and burst in. Now he towered over Robert, his face a grim, angry mask.

  "So what's it to be, Robert? How will you beg me for mercy?" Vashon didn't move. She could see he was not a man to act with passion. Instead he terrified by calcula­tion. He was doing it now. Brilliantly. Robert was as white as a sheet.

  "Vashon, it was Azzedine! He's the one who had me steal aboard! It's Azzedine you should kill!" Robert whined.

  "And it's Azzedine who told you you should rape my captive?"

  Robert clutched the knife. With his eyes fairly popping out of their sockets from fear, he stared up at Vashon. "She's a woman, Vashon! She's fair game on these seas!"

  Vashon put his booted foot on Robert's wrist. The seated man groaned and let go of the knife.

  "That girl is my property," Vashon pointed out. "And you know what happens on these seas when a man tries to steal another's property?"

  "Vashon! Don't kill me! Don't kill me!" Robert begged. He squirmed further into the corner, and Aurora had never seen a man so terrified. The way Vashon was be­having frightened her too. He was so calm. And so angry. Though she loathed the man cowering beneath him, she couldn't stand idly by while Robert was slain. She couldn't be responsible for another man's death.

  "Vashon!" she cried out, "I'm not hurt! You cannot kill this man!"

  Vashon turned. He took one glance at her molested state and she could see the fury spark anew in his eyes.

  "Robert, you dog, get on your feet," he said omi­nously.

  "No! Vashon, please . . . !"

  "Vashon!" She climbed down from the bed. "I'm un­harmed! This man was stopped! I agree he deserves pun­ishment, but not death! In truth he did little more than you yourself—"

  Vashon whipped around to face her, and the words died on her lips. That she had accused him of doing what the cur beneath him had done seemed beyond his ability to endure. His anger looked to ready to explode. She wasn't sure what he would do next, but just as his atten­tion was off Robert, the other pirate suddenly pulled a pistol hidden in his wet, grimy waistcoat. Aurora gasped in horror. Yet a split second before Robert squeezed off the shot, Vashon reached for the fallen knife and ran it expertly across Robert's throat. The pirate was dead in an instant.

  She had never seen so much blood. It was on the floor, on the wall, on the body. And on Vashon. Without even realizing it, she was screaming, but when Vashon reached for her, she slapped him away.

  "Don't touch me," she cried, hysterical. "Don't touch me with those handsl"

  Vashon numbly looked down at his hands. They were spattered with blood. She turned away and wondered if she was going to retch. Suddenly, uncontrollably, she be­gan to sob, but whether it was from an attack of nerves or simply the shock of seeing a man die so violently, she didn't know.

  "This man's life is hardly worth your tears," Vashon told her woodenly.

  "You killed him," she sobbed.

  "And he would have killed you. Eventually."

  "But he did not."

  "Would you have rather I waited until he did?"

  She wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks with a shaky hand. "I'd have rather you left me on the docks of St. George's. I want no part of killers!"

  She looked at him and had never seen him so cold. His entire face, his entire body had gone rigid. But not a word escaped his lips.

  "Vashon! What's going on?" Isaac burst into the cabin and wildly looked about. He took in the dead pirate slumped in the corner and Aurora's state.

  "Old Robert got aboard, then," the captain said.

  Vashon only nodded. He never took his eyes off Au­rora.

  Isaac took another uneasy glance at the body. "Well, from the looks of him, I'd say he swam from the Bleeding Heart. I don't know how he did it, Vashon. We were so careful—"

  "I sense a disturbance." Azzedine entered the cabin and calmly looked down at his man lying in a pool of blood. His remorse seemed as fleeting as his guilt.

  "We know you sent him, Azzedine," Isaac snapped. Vashon still did not speak.

  "He acted on his own." Azzedine looked once more at the body, then smiled. "But take heart, mes amis, at least Robert was so gracious as not to bleed on your exquisite carpet."

  Aurora glanced at the cor
pse. She could hardly believe that only minutes before the man had lived and breathed. It was true the pirate Robert was vile, but now that he was dead, didn't he warrant more respect than merely an appreciative comment that he'd not died on the rug? Or was that how these men treated their dead, as callously as they treated the living?

  Azzedine wandered closer to the body. Isaac was shak­ing his head and mumbling something about getting Benny to clean up the mess. Vashon was still staring at Aurora. Unobserved, Azzedine bent over his man. He picked something up from the floor and it wasn't until he had it pointed at Vashon that Aurora realized it was a gun.

  "Vashon, I should very much like to kill you," Az­zedine stated. He cocked the trigger and Aurora felt the blood drain from her face. She waited for Vashon to act, for surely he was going to kill this pirate too, but he didn't move. He just stared down at Azzedine while the pirate readied to murder him.

  It was mesmerizing, this play being acted out before her. Never had she seen a man so utterly dispassionate about the value of his own life. She watched Vashon, and as she did so, she saw firsthand that attitude that had frightened so many men. Vashon's willingness to die was terrifying.

  When Azzedine squeezed the trigger, Aurora screamed. But miraculously the gun didn't fire. The weapon made a loud thump, then Azzedine broke into laughter as if he had just played a horrendously amusing trick.

  "I should very much like to kill you, Vashon," the pirate chuckled, "but alas, the powder is wet in this gun. Poor Robert! He died for no reason at all. When he threatened you with this pistol, he didn't think that the gunpowder would be rendered useless during his swim to the ship."

  "Azzedine," Isaac growled, "return to your ship. And count yourself fortunate that you didn't end up like your man."

  Azzedine bowed. "Till we meet again, mes amis!" He sauntered out of the room, snickering as if he'd told some kind of hilarious joke.