Till Dawn Tames the Night (41 page)

But now, as she restlessly tossed in her bed, her thoughts moved to something else, something that had nothing to do with Mirage, or
genips
, or
soufrieres
.
Something that nagged at her like an itch that was just beyond her reach.
She was thinking about bananas.

Disgusted, she threw back the covers and rose from her bed, hoping to release her pent-up frustration by pacing the floor. But it didn't work. She knew she had to figure out Vashon's little joke or she would never sleep.

That evening they dined on the marble terrace again and when she arrived, just as at breakfast, there was a banana placed atop her napkin. She tried to ignore it, but this only seemed to amuse Vashon further. The entire episode vexed her, and until she knew what he was hinting at, she vowed never to go back to that terrace again.

She went back to her bed and whipped off the covers, making sure there were no centipedes beneath the pillows, then crawled into bed and stared at the blank canopy and thought about bananas.

She remembered the first banana she'd ever seen. They had taken on an entire branch of them in St. George's, and at first she'd thought they were a rather perplexing fruit. She'd tried to eat one with a fork but had found the skin too tough to cut. With a sharp fruit knife, she had finally cut the thing into slices and scooped out the flesh with a spoon. But she vowed never to eat one again, for no matter how much she liked the taste, it was an awful bother to eat.

But one day when Benny was in the galley preparing a passenger's tea, she'd watched
Koonga
take a banana from the stalk. The way the monkey ate it, the peeling came off as easily as butter sliding off a knife. It was astoundingly simple, and ever since then she'd had no problem with them. Until Vashon's little amusement was born.

She rolled onto her stomach, pulling her long, thick braid out from beneath her. In the striated moonlight from the louvers she spied a silver bowl on the night table brimming with polished fruit, several of them bananas. Irritated, she sat up and examined one.

The banana was really a ridiculously awkward fruit. It lacked the symmetry of an orange or the plumpness of a pear. She peeled back half its skin and almost blushed at how peculiar it looked. In fact, it embarrassed her to no end to even think about the fact that it looked like . . .

She choked.

No, it wasn't possible. Vashon couldn't have been using it as some sort of a metaphor for . . . ? Her cheeks flamed. Good God, what was he thinking of asking her to . . . ? Not in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine a woman might . . .

She choked again.

That had to be why he wanted to watch her.

Was that strangulating sound coming from her?

She looked at the banana and suddenly she was furious. Of all the vile, lascivious, lewd pranks! Her cheeks turned a brighter red, but whether it was from fury, humiliation, mortification, or all three, she wasn't sure. One thing she was sure of: tomorrow, he would pay. She'd reveal him for the licentious beast that he was and show him exactly what she thought of his little joke. With that in mind, she took a vicious bite off the tip of the banana and enjoyed it immensely.

To breakfast the next morning Aurora wore a gown of ivory gauze so sheer, if not for the blush-colored silk chemise beneath it, one might mistakenly believe its undertone to be skin. The corsage was fashionably—even daringly—
low,
and it clung in seductive splendor to her every curve. Perhaps at any other time she might not have had the courage to wear such a brazen gown.

But not this particular morning.

She walked confidently along the marble tiles to where Vashon sat admiring the view. He was no longer staring at the Caribbean. To her deep satisfaction, his gaze fairly locked on to her thinly draped figure, and he watched her approach with stunned approval.

If she'd really been brave, she thought derisively, she would have bent over him and with one finger, closed his gaping jaw. But this morning he would be getting more of a show than he deserved, so she merely took her seat and blessed him with a most comely smile.

"It's another beautiful day, isn't it? How lucky you are to have Mirage." She leaned her bodice against the table.

His wretched emerald gaze went just where she thought it would. It was all she could do not to wrap her arms over her chest and run to her room, but she was too angry to back down now.

She lowered her eyes, and pretended to notice the banana for the first time. She watched him as she ran her finger slowly down the fruit.

His jaw dropped further. If she'd kissed the thing right then and there, he'd have probably died of shock.

She could have stuffed it right up his nose.

He closed his mouth. His eyes lifted. A vague distrust crossed his features. "You're in an oddly cheerful mood."

"And why shouldn't I be?" she asked, making a great display of placing her napkin on her lap.

"No reason," he answered hesitantly.

"I'm famished." Again, this time with excruciating exactness, she ran her finger down the banana. His gaze helplessly followed. "Are you?"

"Am I what?" he asked, his thoughts obviously elsewhere, obviously right where she thought he kept them.

"Famished."

He looked at her, challenging her. He nodded.

She picked up the banana. Slowly, as if she hadn't eaten in days, she peeled back the skin, savoring every rip. Her eyes darted to him and she was pleased by his obvious anticipation. He couldn't know that hers surpassed it. She nervously licked her lips, unaware of how this made her appear. When she looked at him again, he was entranced.

A soft, beckoning smile curved her lips, and her hand reached down to a satin ribbon tied to her dress. She grasped her stork scissors, which were tied to the end of it, and with her gaze never losing hold of
his,
she opened the tiny embroidery scissors and cut the banana in two.

He nearly jumped out of his seat. Though she couldn't see beneath the table, she had no doubt he'd instinctively clamped his thighs together in terror. Satisfied, she dropped the mutilated banana and stood.

"You wretch," she said, her fury overflowing. She gave him her most vile look,
then
prepared to stomp off, but instead of the anger she'd expected, he suddenly burst out laughing so hard he nearly fell from his chair. She turned and glared at him, unable to leave while he was so amused.

"How dare you laugh!" she scolded, her hands on her hips. "You should be skulking from my presence like the cur you are!"

"How did you get those scissors back?" he gasped between fits of laughter.

"They're mine. I took them from your desk one day while you were on the quarterdeck with Isaac."

"Well, give them back." Before she knew it, he reached for her. He chuckled and his arm went around her narrow waist, pulling her down on his lap.

"Let me go this instant!" she said, clawing his bare chest.

"So you figured it out. I'm amazed you did it so quickly. I've corrupted you, Aurora."

She colored and stabbed him with an angry gaze. "We will never discuss
that
again."

"Yes, why discuss it when we can do it. . . ."

She groaned and he laughed.

"You really are a swine, aren't you?" she said.

"That was ungentlemanly of me, but then I don't profess to be a gentleman." He smiled. "I admit, I truly didn't think you'd ever figure it out."

"Well, I have, so let me go. I want to have my breakfast." She squirmed; he held tight.

"Here?" His green gaze beckoned.

"Not with you, ever again!"
She pulled back, but he kept her where she was. Her hands pressed against his bare chest, and as much as she hated to admit it, the feel of him was hard and fine.

"Are you reconsidering?" he asked, obviously noting her pause.

She glared at him.
"Certainly not."

"Can't we call a truce?" His eyes turned to the damaged banana at her place. "After all, you've had your vengeance."

She looked over at the snipped banana. She'd definitely evened the score. When she thought about his expression after she produced those scissors, she almost smiled.

"Come along, have breakfast with me," he said.

"I suppose I might stay . . . if you let me go," she bargained.

He dropped his hold. She climbed off his lap.

"Where are you off to?" he snapped when she began walking away.

"I'm going to change this ridiculous dress."

"No, you're not." He stood and took her by the arm. "I like that gown. In fact, I want to see more of it."

"How odd.
I'd have thought you'd want to see less of it." She looked down at the low neckline and added bitingly, "As if that were possible."

He laughed again. "You really are in fine form this morning, love. When did you acquire that scathing tongue?"

"A long time ago.
When I was kidnapped by a pirate."

"How terrible . . ." Catching her by surprise, he reached over and grabbed the ribbon on her dress that held her stork scissors. With one sure rip, he took it from her, scissors and all.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed as he walked to the edge of the terrace.

He flung the scissors far over the edge. "You don't think after the work you made of that banana I'd let you keep them to try them on me, do you?"

"But now I have nothing left," she gasped.

"You've got one thing." He tweaked her locket as he passed to return to his seat. "Ironic as that is, since the locket rightfully belongs to the Viscount Blackwell."

"Peterborough?"

He smiled, not answering.

She stared at him, curiosity getting the better of her. She wanted to ask him about the viscount, but it was clear from his expression that now was not the time. As if to change the course of her thoughts, he motioned for her to take her seat. She looked down and again became self-conscious of her dress. She needed to squelch the urge to tug up her corsage.

"I must change my gown," she insisted.

His gaze flickered over her attire, pausing slightly where the sheath was tied beneath her breasts. "No, leave it on."

She was just about to protest when he admitted, "You don't know how beautiful you look in it, Aurora.
Truly beautiful.
So I—ask you to leave it on."

His tone surprised her. It was almost respectful.

"Please sit and have breakfast with me." He rose and held out her chair. She was so taken aback by his manners that she found herself complying before she could stop herself.

After
Tsingtsin
had served, Vashon said, "I have a surprise for you today, little wren."

She glanced at him, still distrustful. "And what would that be this time?
An abduction
by
Charon
?
A grand tour of Hades?
To be honest, Vashon, I don't think I could endure another surprise from you."

He laughed. "Yes, I suppose I have given you a few too many. But this one, I think you'll like." He pushed a small inlaid zebrawood box across the table to her. It was such an elaborate little coffer that she was amazed she hadn't noticed it before.

"This looks too small to be filled with centipedes . . . or do they come in sizes I don't know about?" She raised one eyebrow, taunting him.

"I assure you there are no centipedes in there." He smiled. "Open it."

"Knowing you, I don't dare."

He chuckled. "Open it. It's a present for you."

"But why would you give me a present?"

"Because it's your birthday."

She stared at him, an embarrassed flush staining her cheeks. "It couldn't possibly be my birthday. You know I haven't got a birthday."

"You do now. I declare today your birthday. So open my gift."

She glanced at the box, but she just couldn't bring herself to open it. Looking up, she said, "If it was as simple as all that, I would have given myself a birthday long ago."

"But you can't give yourself one. Someone else must give it to you. And it begins with a gift." He pushed the box closer to her until it was nearly in her lap.

She didn't know what to say. Was he playing some kind of cruel joke on her, callously teasing her about her inauspicious beginnings? Or was he truly being so thoughtful as to give her a birthday because he knew she didn't have one? She bit her lip, looking deep into his eyes for any signs that he was making fun of her. When all she could see was his amusement over her perplexity, she decided to summon her courage and open the box.

With great trepidation she lifted the lid. Expecting all sorts of monsters to come crawling out of it, she was quite surprised to see instead a heavy gold-and-ruby chain nestled in a bed of scarlet satin. When she picked up the chain, she found an ornate brass key dangling on it.

"Pardon its simplicity,
Aurore
,"
Vashon whispered, "but what does one
give
a woman too beautiful for jewels?"