Pure Temptation

by Auria Jourdain

  Like it or not, the boy was someone else’s property, and despite the old wives’ tales, Romani don’t steal children in the night.

  Besides, how could an old bachelor raise a child?

  With a heavy heart, Talon pressed his lips together and patted Marcus on the head. “I wish I could, son. But after my trip, I’ll be returning to England. Your fate wouldn’t be any better there.”

  Marcus hung his head, disappointment clouding his face. “I’s understand, sah.”

  As Marcus slunk away, regret and sadness shot through Talon. He hoped his refusal didn’t keep the boy from visiting. He was starting to feel homesick—not to mention seasick—and the lad had been good company.

  With a weary sigh, Talon picked up the pail and threw the rest of the water overboard. Replacing his scrubbing supplies, he took his leave of the deck, glancing one last time at Miss Aringosa’s beautiful backside.

  TALIA TWIRLED HER PARASOL on her shoulder, tingles racing across her skin as Monsieur Barberry eyed her intently from the crew stairs near the bow. As he disappeared below decks, she sighed wistfully.

  Excitement flowed through every inch of her body. She’d spent the afternoon enjoying the warmth of the Caribbean sun under his watchful gaze, and his desire-laden looks didn’t startle her in the least. Somehow, she felt safe in his presence. She wanted nothing more than to follow him and show him her appreciation.

  Unfortunately, Alberto was giving her fits about paying her kidnapper more attention than need be. She couldn’t help it. There was something foreign and exciting about Talon Barberry. He was more intriguing than her usual exploits. Most handsome heathens she’d encountered were either foppish and boring or arrogant and irritating—like Alex Lafitte.

  She wrinkled her nose. Alex was adventurous, but that was the extent of it. As far as she was concerned, he was immature and not at all confident with himself.

  But this Talon Barberry? He wasn’t at all the barbarian Ricardo had warned her about. He was a real man—wild and brooding. A sharp intelligence shone in his eyes as he marked everyone around him.

  Yet he showed a tender side, especially with the young boy. Talon’s camaraderie with Marcus had charmed her. In her experience, most children were good judges of character.

  And apparently, Talon’s sense of honor knew no bounds. Hadn’t he saved her in the slave holds? He set himself apart from most, and she couldn’t help but find that immensely attractive. Her nether parts wept with joy at the mere thought of cracking his mysterious façade.

  Gazing out at the horizon, she fanned herself and murmured, “Who are you, Monsieur Barberry?”

  “Mios dios, Señorita, you must stop this nonsense. You’re going to ruin everything.”

  Whipping around, Talia gasped as Alberto sidled up next to her at the rail. Before her partner could chastise her yet again, she held up her hand. “Enough, Alberto. I know what’s at stake. I’m not some empty-headed girl that swoons over every handsome rogue that walks into the room. I can control myself.”

  Alberto crossed his beefy arms. “Who are you trying to convince, Señorita? Your eyes follow him wherever he goes. I’m begging you, leave Señor Barberry be.” Shaking his head, he walked away without another word.

  Pressing a hand to her cheeks, Talia adjusted her parasol lower and stepped to the starboard side. Strolling toward the stern, she took a deep breath, attempting to right the flutters of excitement and embarrassment infiltrating her senses.

  Alberto was right. Ever since her ordeal with Talon in the hold, she’d lost sight of their mission. All she could think about was his lean, muscular body and rugged, exotic face. But no matter how infatuated she was, she had to focus on her goal.

  Getting to Maman in Paris.

  Hiking her skirts, she strode to the stairwell and headed below deck.

  “Psst!”

  At the threshold, Talia halted. Frowning, she glanced over the railing to the deck below. She squinted into the dark corridor, the shadows masking the corners, but she couldn’t see a thing.

  Prickles of fright danced along her neck. Since the fiasco in the hold, she’d been on edge. Were the sailors she’d confronted waiting for an opportunity to retaliate? Although Monsieur Barberry was hired to abduct her, she didn’t fear him half as much as she did the rabble-rousing crew.

  C’est stupide. I’m just seeing things.

  With a shrug, she continued her trek.

  “Psst, Ma’am!”

  At the landing, she whipped around. As the culprit climbed out from the supply crates stacked beneath the staircase, she sighed in relief. She knelt beside Monsieur Barberry’s young friend. “Bonjour. What can I do for you, young man?”

  “I’s Marcus, Ma’am.” Wringing his hands, Marcus shifted his weight from foot to foot and glanced at the ground. “Massa Talon, he like you.”

  She stifled her excitement. “Indeed? That’s nice.”

  “Yes’m. He don’ talk much, but Talon be a good man.” Drawing his chin down, Marcus solemnly gazed up through lashes as dark as soot.

  She laughed. This child certainly was precocious. “I’m sure he is.”

  He crept closer and whispered, “I don’ know what you an’ Massa Vargas are plannin’, but please’m, I’m beggin’ you. Don’ hurt Massa Talon. He be my friend.”

  The child stared at her intently. Sucking in a sharp breath, Talia blinked as her heart pummeled her breastbone. Dieu, what had the boy overheard?

  Darting a glance up the stairs, she knelt before him and looked him directly in the eye. “I promise you no harm will come to Monsieur Barberry. But you mustn’t tell anyone about this, not even him. We could all be in grave danger. Do you understand?”

  A grin lifted his cherubic cheeks, and he placed a finger to his lips. “Yes, Ma’am. I won’ say a word. I’s gonna be a spy like Massa Talon. I’s walk in the shadows, jus’ like him.” And as quickly as he appeared, the boy slinked back into the darkness from whence he’d come.

  Later that evening, Talia stared at the tray of food in front of her and grimaced. She couldn’t eat, and not because the fish stew and hardtack were hardly appetizing. Concern had gnawed at her belly to the point of sickness.

  What had the child overheard? And from whom? Had someone else infiltrated the ship? Or mayhap the boy had been paid to spy on her. Whatever the case, something was amiss.

  Truth be told, she didn’t trust Ricardo. Was he honest about the details of this mission? He’d planned everything to ensure Carina’s safety, but it was no secret that Ricardo cared not a whit for his daughter. Had he sent Talia to her death as retaliation? Indeed, she championed Carina so.

  Pacing the floor, Talia blew out a sigh of exasperation. She had to speak to Alberto. “Mayhap we should abandon this folly.”

  “Are you finished, Señorita? I brought tea.” After a knock on the door, Alberto entered with the with the service and frowned. “What has happened?”

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she swept the curls from the back of her neck. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Alberto.” Her eyes darted around the cabin, and she put a finger to her lips. “The walls have ears.”

  With wide eyes, Alberto took Talia by the arm and ushered her to the chair. “Sit and eat your dinner before it gets cold.” Foregoing the tea, he poured her a glass of wine from the captain’s private stores and a bit of rum for himself.

  Sitting across from her, he tossed the spirits back and gripped the glass. He removed his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “Who do you think it could be?”

  Pushing her plate away, she drained her goblet and rose to pace the floor yet again. “I don’t know. But we must talk with Monsieur Barberry. Perhaps if he knows we are working for —”

  Bursting out of the chair, Alberto ripped his hat from his head and wrung it in his hands. “What will that solve? Señor Barberry already thinks I’m on his side.”

  Crossing her arms, she eyed him warily. “Since he’s been hired covertly
like us, mayhap he could help us gather information.”

  Sweeping a hand over his bald head, he slumped. “Señor Aringosa said to tell no one our plans.”

  Wrinkling her nose, Talia muttered, “The man is thousands of miles from here. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  “What of the others?”

  She waved her hand in the air dismissively. “We can’t worry about them right now. Something isn’t right, Alberto. That boy was warning me. We’re being watched.”

  The Spaniard stared at her with defeat in his eyes. He sighed. “Bueno. Since I can’t change your mind, and you won’t take no for an answer, we will talk with Señor Barberry. When?”

  Talia stopped pacing. “It has to be planned discreetly. We don’t know who’s infiltrated the ship. We won’t tell him I’m an agent. In fact, we must stick to our story about me being Carina.”

  “How can we do that and engage the man’s help?”

  How indeed? She hated hoodwinking their new friend, but deep down, she suspected Talon was just a pawn. Why else would Aringosa concoct such an elaborate scheme to supposedly kidnap his daughter?

  Until she knew the real purpose of this mission, she couldn’t risk blowing their cover. The captain might put them in the brig if he knew they’d used his ship for their own purposes.

  Gasping, she grabbed Alberto’s arm and smiled. “We’ll tell him we think one of the ship’s officers is going to attempt to murder me.” At Alberto’s skeptical look, she bit out, “It isn’t far from the truth. We need to find out who else on the ship is involved in this plot, and Monsieur Barberry has skills we could use.”

  “It can’t be Captain Hidalgo. I would know.”

  Cocking her head, Talia glared at the man. Alberto was dedicated to their assignment, but he could be thick-headed at times. “Is that so? Then, how does a ten-year-old—the captain’s slave no less—come to warn me about potential trouble aboard the ship?”

  Crossing his arms, Alberto stood firm. “My brother arranged our transport. Hidalgo is his brother-in-law, and I’m telling you, there is no way he’s the traitor.”

  Squinting, Talia tapped a finger against her bottom lip. “Whoever is involved must have Ricardo’s ear. We must find out lest our plan backfire on us.”

  “Sí. We’ll be vigilant,” Alberto agreed. “I’ll deal with Captain Hidalgo and Perez.”

  Talia nodded. “In the meantime, set up a meeting with Monsieur Barberry. We’ll uncover what he knows. He could be an asset, Alberto. He’s quite good with a blade.”

  Rolling his eyes skyward, the man snorted. “Sí, I’m sure that’s why you want to join forces with the handsome, mysterious scoundrel.”

  With a raise of her eyebrows, Talia cleared her throat and let his comment pass.

  DIPPING A RAG IN THE cold bucket of water, Talon wrung it out and wiped the tables in the mess hall. He’d spent the last few afternoons working in the galley with the cook, out of Captain Hidalgo’s sights. The cook was busy counting stores and everyone except the first mate, Ramón Perez, had finished their lunch.

  Talon welcomed the silence. It was a hell of a lot better than being tormented by Miss Aringosa’s sumptuous form as she traipsed around the deck. He needed to plan the woman’s abduction sooner rather than later. But he wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish this without attracting attention to himself.

  It must be done after we’ve moored.

  “Pardon, Señor?”

  Looking up from his work, Talon scowled at Perez’ intrusion. “Blast it all, I’m working already!”

  “Sí?” The man handed Talon his empty plate and chuckled. “I have a message for you, Señor Barberry, from Colonel DuPont.”

  Talon froze, his eyes deadpanning the man. What the hell is this? He shrugged. “I know no man by that name. I’m just a trapper, making my way to the Territories.”

  With a weasel-like grin, Perez pulled a small piece of parchment from his coat and snorted. “You play your part well, Señor. I’ve been asked to give you this and inform you I am at your service.”

  Sighing, Talon snatched the scrap with DuPont’s seal from Perez hand and stuffed it in his pocket. Gazing about for possible eavesdroppers, he glowered at the man. “You assume much, Señor.”

  “I’m Ramón Perez, First Mate.” He offered Talon his hand as his eyes darted to the doors. “And I am the only friend you have on this ship.”

  “I know who you are, sir, but I think you’re mistaken. I don’t have friends.” Ignoring the man’s greeting, Talon squeezed the water from his dingy towel and resumed his duties.

  The boatswain called to Perez from the hallway, and as the first mate took his leave, Talon gripped the bucket in his hands. Anger burst through him like a stallion gone rogue.

  So, DuPont sent someone to watch me.

  He stalked to the kitchen and threw his soiled towel in the basin, cursing his carelessness. Damnation, his cover must have been blown. Mayhap his mistrust tipped the man off.

  At any rate, he blamed the comely wench. He’d spent too much time thinking of the wily Miss Aringosa and had let down his guard. They couldn’t be too far from the islands. He needed to be careful. Time was running out.

  He stomped to the bunks, his mood darkening. Forget the woman. He had to start thinking of a plan to save himself. Unfortunately, he was at the mercy of these idiots until they moored. And if he wanted his money, he had to prove to them he’d accomplished what they wanted—even if she knew the truth.

  “I need to talk to her.”

  “Massa Talon?”

  As Marcus popped his dark head up from his bunkmate’s hammock, Talon jumped with a hiss. “Bloody hell, lad.”

  The boy laughed. “I’s got you. See? I be a good shadow man.”

  Rubbing Marcus’ head, Talon chuckled. “Aye, you proved it for certain. Doesn’t Hidalgo ever keep track of you?”

  Marcus jumped to the floor with a thud. “He too busy. He don’ care none as long as I do my chores and stay outta his way. He only cares when I make mistakes or messes. ’Den I get the switch.”

  Talon gazed at Marcus, sadness ripping through him. “Does he beat you often?”

  “Nah sah. I’s don’ make him angry. I stay outta his way if he in a bad mood.” The boy held up his shirt to reveal his backside. “See? I don’ have many lashes ’cause I’s smart.”

  Pity stole Talon’s heart as he examined the boy’s skeletal frame. He had no qualms about Marcus’ intelligence. It was his physical size that was bothersome. Two long scars crisscrossed the boy’s backside, and that was two too many.

  Talon pulled Marcus’ shirt down. Cocking his head, he grinned. Perhaps the boy could be of use. “Lad, I’ve got a job for you.”

  With bright eyes, the boy crouched next to Talon’s hammock. “Yes, sah, I’s ready.”

  “I need a spy who can hide in the shadows,” Talon whispered. “I’ve seen your exemplary work. You’re perfect for the job. Are you interested?”

  The boy bounced eagerly. “I’ll do anything for you, Massa Talon.”

  “Here’s what I need...” Putting his arm around Marcus’ shoulder, Talon whispered the details of the boy’s first assignment.

  SITUATING HIMSELF BEHIND the door of Perez’s cabin, Talon placed a finger to his lips and nodded at his sidekick. It was now or never. Much as he wanted to stick this mission up DuPont’s arse, he had no choice but to find out what Perez knew.

  Marcus adjusted the tray laden with fresh coffee and biscuits and knocked on the first mate’s door. “Señor, I’s got yo’ afternoon service, sah.”

  A rush of air infiltrated the hallway as Perez’ door flew open. He scowled. “What is this?”

  “I’s helpin’ cook wif’ chores, sah. I’s got coffee fo’ you.”

  Stepping aside, Perez allowed the boy in and closed the door. “Get on with it.”

  Talon attempted to peer through the peephole, but he couldn’t see a thing. As the tinkling of flatware ensued, he assumed
the boy was nearly finished.

  After a few moments, Marcus said, “Will ’dat be all sah?”

  “Sí, now get out.”

  Talon grabbed the door handle, ready to play his part. Marcus tapped on the door once. On cue, Talon swung the door inward. Hard.

  Marcus and the tray crashed to the ground in a heap of broken porcelain. The boy scrambled about, attempting to mop up the liquid with his shirttails. “I’s sorry, sah.”

  “Damn, lad.” Talon bent over the mess to help Marcus, placing pieces of broken glass on the platter. Perez rushed toward the boy with a strap of leather raised above his head.

  Talon seized the first mate’s hand in a vice grip. “Nay, Señor, this was my fault. The boy had no idea I was coming. I’ll help him clean up.” Talon gazed stupidly about the room for a towel. “Er...”

  “Imbécil!” Storming out the door, Perez returned a few moments later with the mop bucket and a pail. He threw them at Marcus’ feet. “Clean it up, ahora.”

  Perez stood akimbo, his arms crossed over his chest as Talon and Marcus cleared the mess. Glancing at Talon, Marcus bowed to the first mate as he wiped his tears. “Sorry, sah’s,” he mumbled once more before leaving them to their business.

  Talon scratched his head with a small laugh. “I honestly didn’t see the rapscallion.”

  Perez set his quill aside and sighed. “He’s the captain’s cabin slave. I merely tolerate him. What can I do for you, Señor Barberry? I assume you’ve read the missive?”

  Leaning against the doorframe, Talon crossed his arms. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he raised his left eyebrow and lowered his voice. “I’m confused about my role, sir. DuPont didn’t tell me he’d hired two agents for this job.”

  A wicked gleam shifted through the man’s dull brown eyes. “I’m not a spy, Señor Barberry. Your job requires you to carry out the plan. My job begins after we join Colonel DuPont in New Orleans. But we share the same goal.”

  Rolling his eyes dramatically, Talon huffed a loud sigh. “Codswallop. As the first mate, you have access to the Aringosa chit. Surely, you don’t need me to kidnap her for—”