He was mesmerizing in his intensity. His eyes flamed, his lips curled in contempt. His tall, magnificent body seemed barely able to contain the anger it held. He personified fury. Davey, the more timid guard, immediately dropped his gun in surrender.
"He's only got one shot, Davey!" Mick shouted, immediately sobering. "Pick up y'r goddamned gun!"
Davey scrambled to retrieve his weapon. Vashon looked upon him with disgust.
"You think you piteous fools can fight me?" he asked, stepping toward Aurora.
"So she is y'r wench, El Draque." Mick pulled back and held Aurora in front of him. He swayed precariously, cursing the effects of his drink.
"That's right. And I don't take it well, seeing her maltreated." Vashon stepped forward. Though he was better armed, Mick stepped back again.
"Vashon, y' ain't gonna live through this night. The gov's got every man on this island searching fer y' and I'll be getting a fat purse fer bringing y' in."
"But you're not going to be bringing me in."
The guard's arm went around her neck. Aurora felt it tighten, but she could hardly think about what was happening. She was too stunned at Vashon's mad bravery. He couldn't possibly overpower both the guards, yet he had still come forward to help her. And was it just for the Star? Was that the only reason he had risked his life? She didn't want to believe it. She wanted to believe it was something more, something pure and good that might be worth the loss of his life. But that certainly didn't fit this dark, ferocious man. The only thing she knew for certain was that he'd been very foolhardy in coming forward. Grand Talimen would have a hanging at dawn.
"Davey," Mick ordered, "shoot the bastard if y' have to, but take El Draque to the jail. When the gov knows we got him, he'll be wanting a word with him before he dies."
Davey looked at his prisoner. He was obviously terrified of him and if Davey hadn't been the one in uniform, an onlooker might have thought Vashon the one in command. "Mick, I think you should take him. I don't—"
"Goddamn it, don't argue!" To press his point, Mick tightened his arm further around Aurora's delicate neck. She gasped and Vashon stepped forward. Davey was forced to be brave.
"All right, all right!" He swayed a bit as he held his bayonet to Vashon. "You, stay where y' are!" He hiccoughed and Vashon almost smiled.
"Come now, gentlemen. Surely you see this won't work." Vashon relaxed the pistol in his hand. "You're both deep into your cups. You aren't going to take me anywhere."
"We're not, eh?" Mick nearly choked Aurora. Vashon's temper flared and he moved to take her, but Davey's nerves suddenly got the best of him and his gun went off.
After the shot, Aurora looked up and screamed when she saw Vashon slide against the wall. His shoulder trickled scarlet as he slumped down on the floor.
"No!" she cried as she pulled forward. She couldn't bear the thought that he might be dead. She couldn't bear it that he might have died in order to save her.
Davey looked at Vashon in amazement, almost as a hunter might look after he'd killed a rare and dangerous beast. Mick's hold on Aurora slackened and she broke free only to run to Vashon's side. She fell to her knees and meant to attend to him but before she could even determine if he was still alive, Mick had her back in his hold.
"I killed him, Mick," Davey mumbled in amazement.
"The gov'll be pleased. Y' just tell him he wouldn't come without a fight."
"I killed the Dragon."
"That's right, Davey, now go get the damned pistol. Just in case the bloke ain't all dead."
Through tear-blurred eyes Aurora watched Davey walk up to Vashon's still body. Timidly he reached for the gun that was just inches from Vashon's lax hand. Davey looked as if he didn't even breathe while he slowly slid the weapon out of Vashon's reach. Only when he had it in his hand did he let out a sigh of relief.
"Look, Mick, it's made of gold," Davey said just before a hand went around his neck. He screamed and another hand grabbed the wrist that held the gun. Vashon's eyes snapped open, and before Davey could even fight back, Vashon knocked him off his feet and dealt him a blow to his head that immediately left him unconscious.
"Let her go." Vashon rose to his feet, pistol back in his hand. His shoulder still bled, but he moved as if it hardly bothered him. Aurora looked closely and saw that the wound had barely grazed his flesh. It was little more than the damage Flossie had inflicted on him with her parasol.
The guard released her and scrambled to cock his gun. He was just about to shoot when Vashon knocked it away. Terrified, Mick went to grab Aurora again, to use her as a shield, but she, too, was thrust out of his path. He was left defenseless. Against the Dragon.
"Vashon! Let's bargain!" Mick backed from him, terrified. He stumbled once, the rum still taking effect. "I won't tell the gov'nor y' were ever here. Just leave me be and I won't tell the gov nothing!"
"You'll be squawking like a hen as soon as I'm out of sight," Vashon said, picking up the abandoned gun. He touched the point of the bayonet. Pleased by its sharpness, he slipped it off the muzzle.
"Vashon!" Mick pleaded, his terror sobering him, "This ain't necessary!"
Vashon only smiled. Aurora watched, unwilling to see another bloodletting, yet unable to look away.
"Spare me, Vashon! Spare me!" Mick backed against the wall. When Vashon confronted him, Aurora could no longer see everything that was happening. Her heart stopped in her chest as Mick wailed. Vashon clamped him into the arm shackles, and they rattled as Mick fought valiantly to save his life. But then Vashon thrust in the bayonet and there was silence.
He stepped away and Aurora finally had a full view of his victim. She thought to see a dead man. Instead she saw no blood, heard no agonizing cries of pain. She looked at Mick; his mouth was open in shock. He was very much alive, not hurt at all, but he didn't dare move. She almost laughed when she saw the reason for this. Mick was pinned to the wall by the bayonet impaling the fabric of his trousers. The knife, stuck perilously close to his manhood, was solidly imbedded between the paving stones into the crumbling humid mortar. With his arms in shackles, he looked like a butterfly under glass. Every time he even breathed wrong, he risked substantial damage.
"If you like your voice as you've got it now, I wouldn't move." Vashon's mouth turned up in amusement. Mick just looked at him, his face frozen with astonishment.
"Vashon. You bastard," the guard said as quietly as he could. The slightest show of anger cost him. Even Aurora could see that if he really lashed out, he'd lose the family jewels altogether.
Vashon smiled and stepped over Davey's unconscious form to get to Aurora. He took her hand and pulled her with him. "Have a good rest," he said before Mick's soft curses followed them down the passage.
"We've got to find a way out of here," Aurora said as she tended to Vashon's shoulder. The dragon on his back looked all too ominous with a smear of blood across its scales. She dabbed at the dragon and perused her handiwork. He was hardly bleeding at all anymore. The damage was light, barely a nick. All he needed was a bandage.
She lifted her eyes and stared out into the darkness. They were on a balcony overlooking the governor's lush courtyard. The palms shook in the gentle breeze, creating soft music, while lights danced across the island that spread out below them—the torches of the guards as they searched for their prey.
"We've time." Vashon put his arm around her waist. He pulled her down onto his lap and ignored her feeble protests. When she quieted, he asked, "I want to know something before we leave. We won't go until you answer me."
"Your wound is bleeding again. I've got to get some bandages." She tried to struggle out of his lap. He held firm.
"Why didn't you betray me to those guards?"
She didn't move.
"Aurora, I want to know."
Their gazes locked.
"I was in far less danger than you would have been," she said simply.
"Not so." Slowly he added, "Most likely they wo
uld have jumped you in exchange for not bringing you to the governor."
"I wasn't afraid—"
"When they'd had their fill, they would have brought you to him anyway. You would have been hung as a thief. Did you know that?"
His hand came up and roughly lingered on her cheek, but the caress was more than she could bear. She looked out over the balcony to the jagged silhouettes of the coconut palms.
"I don't understand. Why did you do it, Aurora? You could have died. For me." His words were deep and quiet.
"No, not for you," she denied, still refusing to look at him. What he wanted she wasn't going to give. She didn't know why she had felt this need to save him. He'd been innocent, she was sure of that, but it was more than just innocence or guilt. It was for the same reason she couldn't utter the words, "I'd never hurt you." They were too bare. They spoke too eloquently of what she was beginning to feel for this terrible man.
"You were protecting me, weren't you?"
"I've got to get some bandages."
"Answer me." He held her down once more.
"Vashon, don't . . ." Her voice suddenly cracked.
"Don't what, Aurorel Don't wonder why you saved my life tonight? Don't think about the reason for it?"
"The reason for it?" she repeated, his questions making her irrationally angry. "I'll tell you. It was for the same reason you stepped out from that doorway and saved me from those men. It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. That's all it was, Vashon, a virtuous deed. And I know how you loathe that." She laughed bitterly. "Virtue. It sounds like an oath in the same breath with your name."
He took her face in both his hands and forced her to look at him. When their gazes clashed, he said cruelly, "You sound disappointed in my character, Aurora. Almost like a spurned lover."
"You are the one spurned, Vashon. I spurn you and I always will." She struggled to be free of his hold on her face.
"But you can't spurn me till I've made an offer. So allow me." He pulled her roughly to him, letting her slide between the clamp of his thighs. "Do you want to do a little strumming, love?"
She froze. His crudeness knew no bounds. She knew quite well what strumming meant; she had heard it from several of the older boys they'd taken into the Home. Though she might not be clear on all the details, she had a pretty good idea of the grand picture. It was a soiled one indeed.
"Let—me—go—" she demanded, looking at him contemptuously.
"Come along, Aurora," he baited, "a little in-and-out'd do you a world of good. Perhaps we might even loosen that stick enough to let you—"
"You vile man! You wretch! You disgusting, blackhearted villain!" She cursed and tugged on his thighs.
He wasn't about to let her go.
"Does this mean you spurn me?" he asked mockingly.
She squealed with fury. He only laughed. She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it in midair. He forced it to her side, then thrust her against his chest. Suddenly he turned deadly serious. There was no more play in him at all.
"Don't make me into a noble man, little wren. Don't even think it."
"But why? Why can't you be other than what you are?" Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She didn't know why he was affecting her this way. She certainly had other things to worry about now. All of hell's wrath seemed to be breaking loose around them: Cutthroat guards were scouring the island, Vashon had flagrantly decided to hide in the governor's own bedchamber, and there seemed little or no chance of their ever getting back to the docks undiscovered. Yet now, as mad as it was, the most important thing in the world seemed to be having him admit to that spark she'd seen in his eyes when she'd told those guards she knew nothing about El Draque.
Oh, but she'd forgotten how cold those green eyes could be.
She stared at him. He leaned closer.
"Heed my words well, Aurora. The day I turn into a noble man is the day I will surely die."
"No," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"If I grow soft, if you make me grow soft, my enemies will have at me right there." He thumped his finger into her back.
A shiver of dread ran through her. "This Peterborough, he's not God, Vashon."
"He doesn't have to be. A cruel man is never without friends. It's a noble man who dies alone with his convictions."
"It's not true," she whispered. "If you were to become a good man, Vashon, I swear to you, you would not die alone."
"I'm not a good man, Aurora."
"I saw it in you. It was that goodness that saved me tonight. That and only that. You thought nothing of the Star when you stepped from the shadows. Don't deny it, Vashon! You came out to save me and only to save me!"
"God damn you!" His arm tightened brutally around her waist.
"Admit it, Vashon! Admit that you can be a noble man. Change your path!" she sobbed.
His fury was so great he almost roared. "I am what you see, Aurora! And I shall prove to you once and for all, I shall never be a good man!" He took her head in an iron-fisted grip and jammed her mouth against his. She sobbed against his lips, but even that protest was silenced when he forcefully thrust his tongue past her teeth.
His kiss was at once fiery and bitterly impersonal. It was calculated for response and degradation; she felt both with searing sharpness. Tears of rage and frustration sprang in her eyes while desire stole into her body like a thief. She hated him now, more than she'd ever hated anyone. But worse, she knew she'd also never feel so strongly about any other man again.
When he broke away, his smile was humorless as she struck out at him.
"Still think so highly of me, my dear?" he whispered, catching both her forearms in one iron grip.
"Don't do this, Vashon. Don't wrong me this way. I saved your life!"
"Keep your mouth closed unless I'm kissing you," he answered callously.
"Don't!" she cried out as he dragged her into the governor's exotic bedroom, her pleas only serving to heighten his resolve.
He pulled her roughly down on the bed with him; his tall body covered her completely. His hand slipped down her chest, removing the pins of her gown one by one as he found them. She shuddered when the apron front fell away, leaving only a thin bodice of laced linen between her and his lust.
"Think me a saint now?" He looked down at her face for a long moment, seeming to enjoy her beauty and defiance. Then his mouth lowered to the lush swell of her bosom that spilled over her low linen underbodice.
She threw her head back and moaned from her inability to stop him. He kissed her flesh, leaving a hot, wet trail down her skin until her clothing forced him to stop. His fingers caught in the lacings down her front and carefully, painfully, he unlaced them. She pulled on his forearm, but nothing, not God nor man, could have stopped him now. He jerked away her bodice and reveled in her generous apricot-tipped breasts while she stared at him, her eyes filled with hurt and betrayal.
"There is a noble man in you, Vashon," she said with a sob, "but you've buried him so deep he may never be seen again."
"You should never have seen him at all" was all he said before his lips covered one nipple. She clutched him and her response melted into another sob. Her hands wove into his wild long hair and she tried to pull him away, but the pain seemed to mean nothing to him. He ignored it and continued his onslaught upon her other breast until she lost her control and shuddered beneath him.
"Ah, I see you're a woman after all," he said huskily, taking power in her reaction. She jerked away, vowing to remain cold and stiff, but he only smiled and let his hard handsome mouth slide between her breasts.
Trembling, she was unsure of how much more she could take. She desperately wanted to call for help, but that was impossible. To hide from the governor's men, she'd willingly locked herself in this ornate bedchamber with this pirate. Summoning the household servants would only get them both executed. She was trapped, and looking at Vashon's terrible, impassioned face, she knew he was only too well
aware of it.
He rose above her and pulled her dress from her shoulders. She moaned when he watched it slide tantalizingly to her hips. She beat him when he kissed her, but her fists could have been beating a brick wall. He didn't surrender an inch.
"Who'd have ever thought I'd have you?" he whispered against her hair, his hand filling with her breast. She pushed against him, but her palms met the worn leather of his buccaneer vest, smooth and warm, like an erotic extension of his own skin. She quickly pulled away.
"You don't like to touch me, do you, Aurora?" His hand captured the one she'd pulled back. He taunted, "Why is that, little girl? Did no one ever hug you at that Home? Did our illustrious paragon of noble intentions, Mr. Phipps, never put his arms around you and keep you warm? What a cold little place you grew up in." He took her hand and slid it up beneath his vest. His chest was as solid as a piece of steel, his muscles as warm and rippling as a Caribbean tide.
"I—I was well regarded at that Home, Vashon," she threw back at him, tears streaking down her face. "No one would have ever mistreated me like this."
The tension in his face returned. "Ah, yes. Regard. But was it love? I was loved once . . . until those who loved me were ripped from my very soul."
"Vashon!" she cried out as he left the bed. She scrambled to cover her nakedness with the scarlet satin counterpane, then, with a slow-seeping dread in her heart, she watched him undress.
She didn't look away. There was no need. All pretenses were crumbling around them; her innocence, she realized, long since sentenced to an inevitable death. Mutely she saw the worn umber-colored vest tossed to the carpet, then his boots, then his trousers. Her gaze lifted and she stared at him, frightened yet exhilarated by the beast before her.
He seemed born out of the glittering shadows of her dreams. He towered above her, his long dark hair falling down his back, his eyes gleaming as hard and brilliant as emeralds. He breathed heavily, his chest moving in a powerful rhythm. He reached for her. She scrambled back against the headboard. They paused and assessed each other, hunter to prey.
Till Dawn Tames the Night Page 21
