Read Online Till Dawn Tames the Night by Meagan McKinney - Free Book Online
Authors: Meagan McKinney
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and rested her cheek on them as a cherub would. Hester followed, then began to giggle.
Aurora clapped her hands and hugged her. It was probably the first time the child had laughed since her parents had died, and the sound was delightful. "Oh, you're terribly quick, Hester! I can see you're going to be an apt pupil!"
"That's enough of this silliness, Miss Dayne," Miss Gideon remarked, rather rudely. For some reason she looked rather uncomfortable, and her gaze kept darting to a spot behind Aurora. "It will only excite the child, and then she'll be impossible to deal with. Come along, Hester, it's time for tea." With that Miss Gideon took Hester's hand and began dragging her away.
"But—but—" Aurora stammered helplessly, looking at Hester's forlorn backward glance. There's another verse! she wanted to say, yet it was too late. Before she could utter a sound, the sour-faced Miss Gideon and her melancholy charge were gone.
Slowly Aurora got to her feet. Irritated, she brushed the wrinkles from her pelisse. She released a huge sigh. The woman was impossible, and the worst part of it was that Hester was the one to pay for it in the long run. Feeling almost depressed, she turned back to the dragon. To her dismay, less than three feet from her the ship's owner stood by the the far rail. He was staring at her, an odd expression on his face that looked strangely like triumph.
He smiled then, and for some reason that smile made her fingers instinctively reach for the comfort of her locket, but she couldn't find it, hidden as it was under her woolen pelisse.
"Mr. Vashon," she began uneasily.
"Miss Dayne." He nodded his head, another ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Must we be so formal?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Simply that I'm called Vashon. I've no other name. So it's absurd for you to pin a title upon it."
She looked at him. He had no other name. She knew perfectly well what that meant. Yet it was no surprise that this barely civilized man was born on the wrong side of the blanket. The only amazing thing was that being so lowborn he'd still been able to amass such a fortune. And that was easily enough explained away simply by uttering the word "pirate." Her eyes locked with his, and again the sense came over her that he cared not a whit for society and its rules. His bastardry probably concerned him less than would a hangnail. He unsettled her. She was not such a conformist that she had been ready to embrace John and all his ideologies, yet she was not such a renegade that she refused to acknowledge her own place in society as this pirate did.
"I was pleased to find you out here, Miss Dayne." He stepped toward her. "I hadn't seen you and feared that you were confined to your cabin with seasickness. Frail women on these voyages tend to get struck down like that."
"I don't consider myself frail, Mr.—" She colored from anger and embarrassment. It wasn't proper to call him "Mr." any longer. Yet calling him "Vashon" seemed completely too intimate.
So she would simply not call him anything, she thought to herself, still burning from his comment. Frail, indeed!
"Then you haven't been seasick?"
"No, not at all," she assured him. "In fact, I've been enjoying the voyage immensely."
"Good," he said, his brilliant green eyes glancing briefly over her pelisse. "You've a long sail ahead of you, and I've seen many a woman's . . . curves waste away to nothing on such trips. I should hate to see that happen to you."
She colored again. How dare he refer to her figure! "Good day to you, Mr.—" As if she were warding off a headache, her hand went to her temple. The man was impossible to deal with on a genteel level with his lack of a name and his improper comments. "Good day to you!" she finished and began to walk away, self-righteously indignant over his familiarities.
But then his familiarities only increased. She felt him take her arm in a steely grip. Wild-eyed, she looked about to see if anyone else saw him, yet the
Aurora clapped her hands and hugged her. It was probably the first time the child had laughed since her parents had died, and the sound was delightful. "Oh, you're terribly quick, Hester! I can see you're going to be an apt pupil!"
"That's enough of this silliness, Miss Dayne," Miss Gideon remarked, rather rudely. For some reason she looked rather uncomfortable, and her gaze kept darting to a spot behind Aurora. "It will only excite the child, and then she'll be impossible to deal with. Come along, Hester, it's time for tea." With that Miss Gideon took Hester's hand and began dragging her away.
"But—but—" Aurora stammered helplessly, looking at Hester's forlorn backward glance. There's another verse! she wanted to say, yet it was too late. Before she could utter a sound, the sour-faced Miss Gideon and her melancholy charge were gone.
Slowly Aurora got to her feet. Irritated, she brushed the wrinkles from her pelisse. She released a huge sigh. The woman was impossible, and the worst part of it was that Hester was the one to pay for it in the long run. Feeling almost depressed, she turned back to the dragon. To her dismay, less than three feet from her the ship's owner stood by the the far rail. He was staring at her, an odd expression on his face that looked strangely like triumph.
He smiled then, and for some reason that smile made her fingers instinctively reach for the comfort of her locket, but she couldn't find it, hidden as it was under her woolen pelisse.
"Mr. Vashon," she began uneasily.
"Miss Dayne." He nodded his head, another ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Must we be so formal?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Simply that I'm called Vashon. I've no other name. So it's absurd for you to pin a title upon it."
She looked at him. He had no other name. She knew perfectly well what that meant. Yet it was no surprise that this barely civilized man was born on the wrong side of the blanket. The only amazing thing was that being so lowborn he'd still been able to amass such a fortune. And that was easily enough explained away simply by uttering the word "pirate." Her eyes locked with his, and again the sense came over her that he cared not a whit for society and its rules. His bastardry probably concerned him less than would a hangnail. He unsettled her. She was not such a conformist that she had been ready to embrace John and all his ideologies, yet she was not such a renegade that she refused to acknowledge her own place in society as this pirate did.
"I was pleased to find you out here, Miss Dayne." He stepped toward her. "I hadn't seen you and feared that you were confined to your cabin with seasickness. Frail women on these voyages tend to get struck down like that."
"I don't consider myself frail, Mr.—" She colored from anger and embarrassment. It wasn't proper to call him "Mr." any longer. Yet calling him "Vashon" seemed completely too intimate.
So she would simply not call him anything, she thought to herself, still burning from his comment. Frail, indeed!
"Then you haven't been seasick?"
"No, not at all," she assured him. "In fact, I've been enjoying the voyage immensely."
"Good," he said, his brilliant green eyes glancing briefly over her pelisse. "You've a long sail ahead of you, and I've seen many a woman's . . . curves waste away to nothing on such trips. I should hate to see that happen to you."
She colored again. How dare he refer to her figure! "Good day to you, Mr.—" As if she were warding off a headache, her hand went to her temple. The man was impossible to deal with on a genteel level with his lack of a name and his improper comments. "Good day to you!" she finished and began to walk away, self-righteously indignant over his familiarities.
But then his familiarities only increased. She felt him take her arm in a steely grip. Wild-eyed, she looked about to see if anyone else saw him, yet the
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