Pure Temptation

by Auria Jourdain

  “Massa Talon!” Marcus scampered from beneath a stack of flour sacks. His eyes widened as he stared at the blood pooling on the floor. Grabbing a dirty towel from the mop bucket, he pressed it to Talon’s wound. “Sah... ’dis ain’ good.”

  Pulling on Marcus’ shirtfront, Talon gasped for air. As the room spun around him, his skin tingled, and he lost his grip. Collapsing, he closed his eyes. “I need you to do something, lad.”

  “Anythin’ for you sah.”

  “Find the Miss. She’s in danger. We need to warn her. Can you do that for me?”

  “What about you? I’s cain’ leave you!”

  Talon grabbed his sleeve and coughed. “You have to! Just get to Talia. Please...”

  “Yes, sah.”

  Talon opened his eyes to watch as the boy clambered up the wooden stairs. At the top, Marcus looked back and gave him a small wave. Aye, he was the only one Talon could trust.

  “It’s in your hands, Marcus.”

  Only then did he succumb to the darkness.

  “DAMN YOU, RICARDO. What have you gotten me into?”

  Rage skirted through Talia’s body as she paced the floor of her cabin. She wasn’t sure how to proceed with this mission. If what Talon said was true, she could no longer trust Alberto. Unfortunately, she had no way of getting to her savior. Perez had his scruffy dogs running patrols past her door every fifteen minutes.

  Clenching her teeth, she hurled an angry growl in the air. Ricardo had set her up. She could feel it. Was it because he and DuPont were working with the Lafittes? She and Alex were close, but his cousins, Jean and Pierre, had never liked her. Through her spying, she’d helped incarcerate many of their men.

  But why would Ricardo go through the pomp and circumstance of changing Carina’s traveling plans, only to have Talia take her place? Had Ricardo used her only to entice Talon and make him DuPont’s scapegoat? “The filthy gamin. He’s gone too far.”

  It wasn’t easy being in Ricardo’s employ. Most of her assignments were centered around spying on foreign diplomats for the Cabildo. But Ricardo spent more time getting himself into trouble than he did governing. She’d had to clean up his messes more than once.

  His plan for New Orleans hadn’t set well with Havana. The last two years, he’d talked of nothing but trade rights on the Mississippi. He was determined to sell the privilege to navigate the river to the highest bidder. Apparently, he didn’t care who got hurt in the process—including his own daughter.

  When he’d dragged Carina into it—along with her British fiancé—Talia had had no choice but to act. Carina was her soft spot, and Ricardo always used that to his advantage.

  “Je suis stupide. I never should have agreed to this mission.” She slumped into the chair. First things first, she needed to rescue Talon and get off this ship. “Dieu, how will I do that?”

  A key jiggled in the lock. As the door to her cabin creaked open, she crossed her arms and glared at the intruder.

  Ramón Perez entered uninvited. “Good evening, Señorita Montrose. I trust you are comfortable?” Looking at the threadbare carpet, he cackled. “Dios mio, you’ve paced a hole in the rug.”

  Sitting up, Talia stared at the man incredulously. “You know my real name.”

  Taking a chair across from her, he nodded. “Sí, of course. We work for the same man.”

  Two can play this game. With a haughty toss of her hair, she held her head high. “I doubt that, Monsieur.”

  Perez’ yellowing teeth gleamed as he sat forward and steepled his index fingers together. “Vargas and I have been working for Señor DuPont from the beginning—his knights if you will. You and Señor Barberry are pawns. Fortunately for you, your savior took the brunt of the blame and spared you a most heinous death.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Talon saved me?”

  “Sí, but his motives are suspect.” Flint sparked from Perez’ watery gray eyes as he ogled her bosom. “I think the young DuPont will find it most distressing that a mere peasant almost soiled his bride-to-be.”

  The hair on the back of her neck prickled. “You’re daft. I’m not marrying that monster’s son.”

  “Indeed, you are. You’re his prize. He has high ambitions to head a large plantation along the Mississippi and occupy a place of power within New Orleans. You happen to have both.”

  Talia laughed derisively. “Imbécile. My father is the head of Temptation Hall. It isn’t mine.” They didn’t need to know the land belonged to her mother’s family.

  Perez leaned forward, his tobacco-stained teeth mere inches from her face. Grabbing her roughly, he dug his jagged nails into the top of her arm. “There are ways to remedy that, querida.”

  For the first time in her life, Talia was frightened. She yanked out of the man’s grasp. “Why are you doing this?”

  “My reasons are my own. However, DuPont has loftier ambitions. He’s the member of some movement in Paris that hopes to re-establish French control of New Orleans. I don’t know the details, and I couldn’t care less. In less than a fortnight, you’ll meet your fiancé and I will retire a happy man.”

  Clasping her hands to her mouth, she feigned a loud gasp. “That can’t be right. Alberto told me we’re mooring Guadeloupe.”

  Perez’ smile faded, rage consuming his façade. Rising, he kicked the chair across the room with a curse. “Vargas has a big mouth.” Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Smoothing the lapels of his overcoat, he straightened his cravat and turned toward her. As he scanned Talia from head to toe, his eyes filled with lust. She shrank away from him.

  As if warring with himself, he finally backed away with a sigh. “Lo siento, Señorita, but I’m just the messenger. Once we arrive at Basse-Terre, you will be handed over to your new husband. Colonel DuPont and his son will welcome you into their family with open arms.”

  Talia stared at him intently. “What of Talon?”

  Perez shrugged. “He’s a pawn, nothing else. We needed a scapegoat to lure you here, and he gave us the perfect alibi. His job is finished. What do we do with pawns but sacrifice them for the good of the whole?”

  Clenching every muscle in her body, Talia stared at Perez. Her seductive wiles weren’t going to help her this time. These men were crazy, and they’d kill Talon sooner rather than later.

  Squaring her shoulders, she held her head high. “Bon. I accept my fate. I knew that spying for the Cabildo would lead to nothing but death in the end. How close are we to Guadeloupe? I want to be prepared for my demise.”

  Perez gazed at Talia, softness registering in his eyes. “We are three days out. We should start to see land soon.”

  Heaving a sigh, Talia wiped a faux tear and hung her head. “Merci, Monsieur. Might I have a moment to myself?”

  “Indeed, Señorita. Buenos noches.” Perez exited as quietly as he’d entered.

  Sitting on the bed, she flung herself upon the mattress and buried her face in her arms. With a dramatic flair, she conjured up a loud sob. As the metallic click of the lock forced her gaze upward, she sprung up and glared at the door. “Idiote.”

  She stomped across the floor and wiggled the handle. “Merde.” Sighing, she plopped onto the bed. She glanced at the clock on the desk. It wasn’t quite dinner time. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much choice but to wait for an opportunity to strike.

  Smacking her fan against her hand, she dislodged the small knife and placed it under her pillow. She had no clue how she was going to get out of this, but she’d be ready for whomever tried to thwart her.

  TALIA AWOKE TO THE jiggling of the door handle. Jumping out of bed, she snatched her knife from beneath her pillow, prepared to give Perez something to remember her by.

  The door creaked open, and a small hand waved at her in surrender. As the child’s friendly face peered at her in awe, relief spread through her veins. Throwing the weapon to the bed, she grabbed the boy by the shirtfront. “Marcus, dieu. You frightened me.”

  “I’s sorry, Miss. Massa Talon sent me
.”

  Shuffling from foot to foot, the boy glanced at the open door. Talia closed it quickly. “Come in. Are you hungry?”

  Marcus licked his lips. “I’s starvin’. I ain’t had nothin’ in a day. I’s hidin’ from Massa Perez, not that he care too much or notice. Massa Talon’s all I’s got now.”

  She smiled at the child’s adoration. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one smitten with Talon Barberry. Leading Marcus to the table, she placed the bread and cheese in front of him. “How is our hero? Is he hurt? Have you seen him?”

  The boy stuffed the food in his mouth and swallowed. “It ain’ good, Miss. Massa Vargas be on his watch. ’Dat man ain’ nice. He gave me these this mornin’.”

  As the child lifted his shirt, exposing new lashes crusted over with pus and blood, Talia’s heart broke. She traced the angry welts with her fingertip. “Oh, Marcus.”

  Pulling his shirt down, the boy scoffed. “Ain’ no use cryin’ now.”

  “You’ve been out and around the ship. What’s happening?”

  Darting a glance at the door, the child lowered his voice. “Massa Perez made Massa Vargas his first mate. The crew ain’t happy ’bout ’dat.”

  Talia sighed. “I can imagine. Vargas isn’t the smartest banana in the bunch.”

  Marcus wrinkled his nose. “The only thing Perez has goin’ like clockwork is the dog watch. An’ they be watchin’ your room the mos’.”

  Talia crossed her arms and paced. “They expect me to escape.”

  The little boy gazed at her expectantly. “Ain’ that the plan, Miss?”

  “Oui, but we need to rescue Talon first. Do you know where he is?”

  “They’s put him in the hold wit’ the slaves. Vargas be guardin’ him day an’ night.” Tears wobbled at his sooty eyelashes. “Poor Massa Talon. Vargas lashes him every hour.”

  Holding her hands up, Talia stopped the boy. She didn’t want to hear about such cruel torture. She needed to focus. “We don’t have much time. In less than thirty-six hours, we’ll be rounding the eastern coast of Guadeloupe. Perez will dock at Basse-Terre twelve hours later. We have to free Talon and get off this vessel before we dock. It’s our only chance to escape alive.”

  The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out an antique brass key. “Massa Talon told me to give this to you.”

  As he placed it in her hand, her eyes lit up. It was the key Talon had shown her.

  “Sah thought it would be important to have.”

  She nodded. “Bon. Does it unlock all the doors on the ship?”

  The boy grinned. “All the ones I’s tried so far.”

  Talia’s brain whirred as she flipped the metal in her hand. Unfortunately, she was stuck here. The moment she’d try to escape, the watch would notify Perez.

  She returned the key to Marcus. “I need your help. It’s up to you to free us.”

  Excitement flooded the boy’s face as he burst up. “I’s can do it, Miss. I be a real spy, jus’ like Massa Talon.”

  She patted his head. “That’s exactly what I need—a spy to break into the first mate’s quarters. There must be something that can explain what’s going on.”

  Grinning, Marcus rubbed his hands together conspiratorially. “You’s can count on me.”

  She kissed his forehead. “Bon. It must be done quickly. Return to me as soon as you can.”

  “Yes’m.” As quietly as he’d entered, the boy left.

  With a heavy heart, Talia sat on the bed and prayed. “S’il vous plait, we’re desperate. Help the child find something.”

  Chapter 11

  EVEN AS THE SUN SHONE brightly through her portal window, Talia awoke early the next morning with sadness in her heart. She longed to see land once more.

  According to her calculations, they’d reach Guadeloupe in less than a day, perhaps earlier depending on the winds. She had an escape plan, but she needed Marcus’ information first. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen the child in hours, and time was growing short.

  Thankfully, Perez hadn’t visited her yet, as was his custom. Hopping out of bed, Talia donned a demure linen gown so as not to entice the man. His beady eyes unnerved her, undressing her like a lewd voyeur. “If he wants a defeated woman, he’ll get it.”

  She climbed under her covers with a smile. Perhaps after this was over, she’d leave the spy business and try her hand as an actress at the Paris Opera House.

  At a quarter after eight, the lock on her cabin door jiggled. Perez entered and sat her breakfast on the table. Fortunately, the man only stayed an hour. She didn’t have much to say to him, and he was too smart to hand over information needlessly.

  It wasn’t all for naught. During Perez’ visits, she’d gained insight into her foe. She had no doubt of Ricardo’s involvement as Perez reminisced about his childhood in Cuba. Living as an orphan on the streets, he had been taken in by Ricardo’s family when he was a young boy. After Ricardo had become governor of the Louisiana Territories, Perez had joined him in Baton Rouge as a magistrate, keeping order in New Orleans and reporting any misdeeds to the Cabildo.

  Talia cocked her head with a frown. “I’ve worked for Aringosa for several years. How is it we never crossed paths?”

  As Perez’ gaze trailed over her breasts, he released a husky breath. “You may not have seen me, Señorita Montrose, but I certainly saw you.” He stroked his chin and moaned. “You are superb at your job if I may say so.”

  Gooseflesh prickled her skin. Placing distance between them, she pushed him away. “Pardon, Monsieur, but I did not sleep well. Perhaps we can converse later.”

  “As you wish, Señorita.” Bowing, Perez left, closing the door quietly behind him.

  “Zut alors, it’s hopeless.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, Talia cried herself to sleep.

  “MA’AM, I BE BACK.”

  Talia bolted upright as Marcus patted her shoulder. She wiped her eyes. Sleep had been restless as nightmares of Talon’s torture consumed her. “Marcus, where have you been?”

  “I’s sorry, Miss. They’s been watchin’ too close. Massa Perez makes his rounds every hour, sittin’ outside an’ waitin’. That man makes me nervous.”

  Talia shuddered. Perez was dangerous. It was more disturbing that the man checked on her regularly.

  One step at a time.

  “Oui, it is best not to anger him.” She glanced at the door and whispered, “What did you find? Did you go to Perez’s cabin?”

  “Yes’m. I brought you lots o’ papers.” He pulled several pieces of parchment from beneath his shirt and handed them to Talia.

  She cocked her head, attempting to read through them with a focused eye. Unfortunately, they were out of order. They were also incomplete. Bits of correspondence were missing in between manifests and supply lists. “Is this all there was?”

  “No, ma’am. I didn’t take everythin’. Massa Perez might get nervous if we do that.”

  Smiling at the lad, Talia rubbed his head. Indeed, even an imbicile like Perez would notice if his communications went missing. “Good thinking. I need time to read everything.” She looked at the clock on the bedside table. “Perez usually brings lunch at noon. Return to me later and we’ll devise a plan. Please look in on Talon, would you? I’m worried about him.”

  Marcus bowed. “Yes’m.” And the boy took his leave.

  Lunchtime came and went without a visit from Perez. Talia continued to weed through the stacks, rereading them twice as she nervously watched the door. It would do no good to be thrown in the slave hold next to Talon for stealing the captain’s correspondence.

  She rubbed her aching temples. She’d spent hours trying to decipher it all. Apparently, DuPont wasn’t the mastermind behind these invasions. Some mystery figure, a Frenchman called L’Archambeau, oversaw everything.

  Inspired by the revolts on Saint Domingue, the man had spent the last several years stoking rebellions on the islands, and now he was looking to infiltrate the Americas with DuPont’s followers. Apparently, thi
s L’Archambeau had financed the Jacobin uprisings in the Territories, allowing DuPont free reign. And in return, DuPont had ordered Perez and Alberto to create a false trail leading her and Talon on a wild goose chase.

  For five hundred pounds sterling.

  “Isn’t that convenient?”

  Talia frowned. None of it make sense. Perez and Alberto had told her they were sending her to Guadeloupe, but one letter said she was bound for New Orleans. In another missive, DuPont mentioned taking a plantation by force. At first, she wondered if they meant Temptation Hall, but apparently the Frenchman had procured a sizeable estate in Guadeloupe after recent uprisings and had gifted it to Perez.

  She hummed. “How does Ricardo fit into this?” Surely, the man wouldn’t have tried to stop her from taking this assignment only to have her killed.

  But he might send a Lafitte to do it.

  As Talia uncovered new information, she became more frustrated. There were too many players with their own agendas. She couldn’t unravel it without help.

  She gazed out the window. She had to do something. Talon was wasting away in the cargo hold, enduring godforsaken torture at the hands of Alberto Vargas. “I cannot leave him here to die.” Placing the sign of the cross over her heart, Talia whispered, “Marcus, I’m at your mercy—please, hurry.”

  “MASSA TALON, YOU AWAKE?”

  Talon’s stomach heaved as he lifted his head. His eye was so swollen he could hardly see his little sidekick. The world upended itself as he tried to sit up. He groaned. “Marcus?”

  “Yes, sah. I’s here.” The boy crawled toward him. Touching a palm to Talon’s forehead, he let out a sob. “You ain’ well, sah. You’s need a docta’.”

  “Aye, or a bottle of whiskey.” Talon touched the bruised skin at his temples. As he raised his arm, a sharp pain penetrated his lower chest wall. He sucked in a breath. “Jesus, I think my rib is broken. How’s it look, lad?”

  Tears shimmered in the boy’s eyes as he shook his head. “You’s a right mess.” Pulling a small loaf of bread from his pocket, Marcus held it out.