Till Dawn Tames the Night (29 page)

Vashon led her through the maze of slave shacks that lined the road from town. At one point she stumbled and caught herself on a door, only to see the notice that had been nailed to it. It was old and the edges of the paper were yellow_ and crumbled, but she could clearly make out what was on it. It was a sketch of Vashon's face, and beneath it were the words
El
Draque
.
Her Spanish was poor but she could read the notice of execution should
El
Draque
ever be caught on the island. A new burst of fear shot through her veins.

"The ship will surely be surrounded." Vashon pulled her against a shack as four mounted guards trotted by. His face was taut as he peered down the road. "We'll have to hide until we can
reboard
."

A new plan began forming in her mind. To escape, she wasn't willing to risk his execution, but she spoke before her idea had even solidified. "I could go to the ship, Vashon. I could tell the captain where to meet you on another part of the island—just tell me where."

He pulled her closer.
"How noble of you.
I let you out of my sight and you'll be running up that hill to
Ignatio's
house so quickly a hare couldn't beat you. I'll pass on your offer, love."

"No, I—"
Wouldn't hurt you,
she'd meant to say, but the words stuck in her throat. For some reason they seemed too intimate, too much of a confession. She looked at him,
then
quickly looked away. "Where can we hide?"

He grew serious. He stared at her for a moment,
then
a slow smile graced his face. "Maybe we should grant your wish after all.
Ignatio's
going to scour this damned island looking for me, but he won't think to look in his own house." He nodded in the direction of the hill—Governor's Hill.

"You want us to hide at the governor's mansion? That's insane!" The glint in his eyes frightened her.

"Ah, sweet madness."
He laughed and took her hand. They stole through the shadows of the night.

"Yes, she faked the entire thing. I suspect she was going to try to escape once he brought her to the island. Oh, but how I wish now I'd stopped her!" Flossie dabbed a tear from the corner of her eye. She stood on the railing of the
Seabravery
with Isaac, looking out to the lights of New Providence. Somewhere out there Vashon and Aurora were fighting for their lives.

"I've sent out as many men as I have. At least we know they haven't been captured." Isaac glanced at Flossie. It was obvious her tears made him supremely uncomfortable.

"No, no. It's
all my
fault. I should have known it would come to this. With Vashon in so much danger, it's only logical Aurora would be dragged into his trouble. Now they'll both be . . .
be
. . ." She drowned in a whole new wave of weeping. Isaac looked ill.

"Flossie," he began helplessly, "Vashon's been in scrapes like this before."

"With a young lady in tow?
I—sincerely—doubt— that!" She hiccoughed.

"It does make things more difficult, but he'll manage. If it were anyone else, I'd be worried too, but—"

"Pooh! You're as worried as I am!" Flossie wiped her overflowing eyes with her handkerchief. She looked up and met Isaac's grim stare. "He's like a son to you, isn't he? As notorious as he is, you don't want him to die. You love him like a son."

Isaac heaved a huge sigh. As if it were as natural to him as sailing, he pulled Flossie into his arms and let her weep on his shoulder. Under his breath, he agreed.

"A prodigal son."

They were in the mansion.

Aurora's heart had never pounded so hard as the moment they entered the governor's empty kitchens and made their way up into the main house. Somewhere a clock rang midnight as Vashon led her through deserted passages and dodged the occasional servant.

The interior of the mansion was like a Peking nightmare.
Chinoiserie
was painted on the walls, carved into the furniture, cloying in the air. Even the songbirds hung in pagoda-shaped cages. Aurora was sure a night in an opium den couldn't have produced a more bizarre landscape. But if her surroundings were strange, her circumstances were even stranger. It didn't help her sanity one bit to know any minute they could be caught and executed.

Vashon pulled her into a room just as a slave girl walked down the passage with a luster. He pressed Aurora against his chest and they waited in the dark while the girl passed, the crystals of her candle holder tinkling like bells.

Aurora trembled; Vashon's embrace grew tighter. She looked down at his hands crossed against her stomach. He was a terribly strong man. She knew that by the way he always had to temper that strength whenever he touched her. Beneath him she was as fragile as a piece of porcelain. But did that great strength matter when he took such risks and laughed while he took them? Would it save him in the end? By all accounts, he seemed invincible. Yet was he?

"Vashon, surely you see we cannot stay here?" She clutched his hands. "We'll be discovered. I should go to the ship)—"

"Now why would you rescue me?" he whispered against her neck. His breath felt like a feather running down her nape.

"Because—I—" She stumbled over her words. She didn't really know how to answer him.
"Because Isaac told me the story about the slaves.
I know you're innocent, and I can't stand by and let this governor execute an innocent man—not even if that man is you. I have more honor than that."

"Honor."
He laughed cynically. "Honor in the face of death has about as much backbone as our good King George on one of his better days—that is, when they untie the babbling idiot."

"How can you be so blasphemous?"

"How can you be so beautiful?"

She looked up at him. He smiled a slow, dark smile. His hand left her waist and moved to her chin. He tilted her head back and she swore he was going to kiss her.

"You're as mad as King George," she said, pulling away from him.

"No one's that far gone, love." He grabbed her again.

"Don't!" she whispered harshly. He ignored her. His hand swept her hair and he seemed to revel in its tangled silken length. An intent expression crossed his features.

"I think you might make a temptress yet," he whispered.

"Is that your pirate's honor then?
To ruin me?"
She pulled away, this time fiercely.

"If I have any honor at all." He chuckled and reached for her again but now she was forewarned. She skittered back from him and fled down a steep, winding staircase. It was dark, but even in the sparse lantern light she could see him in quick pursuit. She had just turned the corner to run down a narrow, stone-paved passage when a voice sounded ahead of her. With barely enough time to stop, she saw two liveried guards appear at the end of the passage. They halted in surprise.

"What're y' doing here, girl?" one guard called out to her, his voice thick with rum. He lifted the lantern in his hand to get a good look at her. "The
gov'nor's
wenching
night is Tuesday.
Y're
here on the wrong night."

Aurora froze in her tracks. Somewhere water dripped through the paving stones and its nerve-racking sound only heightened her fear. As calmly as she could, she glanced to her side. Vashon stood in the shadowy passage that she had just fled. With pistol in hand, his face was grim; his eyes filled with rage.

"That damned wench ain't here fer the
gov'nor
. She's a damned thief, that's what she is!" The other besotted guard moved forward, his bayonet fixed.

"You're mistaken!" she cried, her mouth going dry from terror. "I assure you, I'm no thief."

"Then what're y' doing here?" The suspicious guard walked up to her and poked her with the bayonet, making a tiny rip in the bodice of her dress. She backed away from him so that he wouldn't see Vashon. She held her arms protectively across her chest, and the guard seemed to savor her fear. "I ne'er laid eyes on y' before, wench. What ship did y' come from?" he demanded.

"The
Sea
—" She choked. She couldn't tell them
that.
Her eyes darted behind the guard to where Vashon stood in the shadowed corner. His face could have been carved from stone it was so hard and still. He was staring at her, she knew, waiting for her to betray him; waiting as a man waits on the gallows for the hangman. Yet she wouldn't betray him. Despite what he thought, there
was
honor in the world, and she considered that she herself possessed some of it.

"The
Cecilia,"
she blurted out. "I've arrived from the ship the
Cecilia."

"I never heard o' that ship docking here. I think
y're
lying, girlie."

"I've just gotten myself lost." Her eyes pleaded with him. "I've mistakenly found myself here. I don't even know where I am."

The other
drunk
guard laughed. "You're in the right place!" He lifted the lantern and showed that the passage consisted of row upon row of rusted, barbarous arm shackles.

"Where is that?" she asked with a tremble.

"This is
wha
' we like to call the 'dungeon,' girlie." The guard threw back his head and laughed.

"If you allow me to leave, I promise I won't speak a word of this to anyone," she pleaded.

"Let '
er
go, Mick." the other guard chimed in. He took a swig from an ornate silver hip flask. "After all, she's a pretty little wench. Perhaps if the
gov'nor
tires of her, she'll remember the favor on a lonely night."

"We don't even know for sure if she is one of the
gov'nor's
wenches." The guard Mick jabbed her again with the bayonet. From the corner of her eye she could see Vashon tense.

"I implore you," she begged, feeling the situation ready to explode, "just allow me to leave and be on your way. Surely you both have more to do this night than bother with me."

"Aye."
Mick took a hefty swallow from the guard's flask. She could see him getting drunker. "We've better things to do.
El
Draque
is out there tonight. Y' know who that is, wench?"

She swallowed. Her hands were shaking so badly she had to thrust them behind her. Vashon's defiance was almost palpable. She knew he expected her to reveal him and gleefully watch his execution. There was no way he could win against these men, even with the pistol in his hand. He had at best one shot and there were two guards. But as much as her mind told her that betrayal was the way to freedom, she knew she couldn't do it. Her heart said she'd be betraying an innocent man, and she wouldn't have that on her conscience, even if that man was otherwise a notorious criminal. Her silence might cost her
her
life, but she could see no other honorable course. She'd once told Vashon that she was not without fortitude. Ironically, tonight, to save him, she was finally going to prove it.

"I don't know
El
Draque
," she whispered rebelliously. Mick grabbed her by the arm as if to pull the truth out of her. She winced at the man's roughness, but then her gaze reached behind him to Vashon.

He stood in the darkness, staring at her, his eyes full of wonder. It was clear by his expression that he couldn't fathom why she had shielded him. But she knew that was because he was a pirate, unused to such things as mercy, self-sacrifice, and noble causes. To him the world was black and white. Whether it was because of lack of upbringing, or simply lack of love, he was blind to all the shades of gray that she herself saw quite clearly.

But suddenly, as she watched him, something awakened in his eyes, something that had been sleeping for a terribly long time. It was like a tiny spark of altruism coming to life after years of believing such a thing no longer existed within him. Though he was astonished by it, she could also see he didn't like it. It made him vulnerable and she knew he was the kind of man to fight that to the death.

"Well, he's
gonna
die tonight. The
gov'nor
ain't gonna take no more from that bloke. We're to see to it."

She forced her gaze back to the guards. Carefully erasing all emotion from her face, she vowed not to look at Vashon again. His very life depended on it. "Then I shan't keep you gentlemen," she said, making one last pitch for her freedom.

"No." Mick grabbed her arm. "We're gonna keep y', love. Word's out that
El
Draque
may have a wench with him tonight. We'll just take y' to the
gov'nor
and see if
y're
one o' his or not."

Aurora looked up, the fear of what was to come freezing the expression on her face. "And if the governor doesn't recognize me, then what?" she said in a low voice.

"Then, girlie,
y'd
better be nice to old Mick, 'cause
y'll
be in a whole heap of trouble." Mick licked his lips and chuckled at the terror on her face.