Trying to wiggle out of her grasp, Lafitte raised his eyebrow. “Talia, this isn’t what it seems.”
“Is that right?” Talon slid the man a heated glance. “And just how are we supposed to take your attack?” With a concerted effort, Perez limped to his feet, but Talon stuck a hand through the bars and pushed him backward. “I’ll deal with you in a minute, you bastard.” Sobbing, the man fell upon his backside. Vargas snored on.
Standing akimbo, Alex wrinkled his nose and stared at Talon. “Who the hell are you?”
Raising her head, Talia linked her arm in Talon’s and pressed against his side. “This is my partner, Talon Barberry. And he’s been a damn sight more loyal than you, Alex.”
Sliding his hand across the small of her back, Talon relaxed. Mayhap he hadn’t lost her after all.
Lafitte slunk back at her retort, his broken English barely discernable. “You have no idea how much this mission has caused my heart to ache, ma chèrie.”
Tears pooled at her eyelashes. “How do you think I feel? Aringosa hired you to kidnap me.”
“Non,” Alex muttered. “It is not Ricardo. He sent me here to protect you.”
“What?”
“He’s on our side. He and Maude are handling things in New Orleans. Perez was supposed to save you aboard the Nueva Linda. He didn’t mention that he was playing both sides, apparemment.” Alex kicked the sickly man with a contemptuous glare. “When Perez and his idiot friend returned to Guadeloupe without you, the Frenchy hired me as a last resort. Unfortunately, these gamins got in the way whilst I was trying to contact the captain of this ship.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Why should I believe you?”
Taking a deep breath, Alex said, “We’ve known each other for fifteen years. Have I ever lied to you? Ricardo was worried about you. We aren’t sure what the Frenchman has planned, so he made me promise to take this assignment, no matter what he asked me to do.”
Talon knitted his brows together and scratched his beard. Isn’t that what he was told? He gave Lafitte a hard look. “Who is this Frenchman?”
“Je ne sais pas. I only met him a few times. A wealthy plantation owner they call L’Archambeau. He hired all of us—even you.”
Talon frowned. “Nay. I thought DuPont was my employer, but it turns out Talia’s aunt whom I know from mutual friends hired me to be guard Talia.”
Lafitte shook his head again. “I know nothing of that. L’Archambeau agreed to help DuPont’s revolutionary aspirations as a front. He’s orchestrated everything through DuPont’s guise.”
Struggling to the bars, Perez pulled himself up and rasped, “Cállate, idiote.”
Rage conquered reason. The muscles at the back of Talon’s neck strained against his skin as shoved his hand through the bars. “I thought I told you to—” Growling, he grabbed Perez around the throat and squeezed.
As the Spaniard gagged, his eyes bugging out grotesquely, Talia clutched Talon’s forearm. “Dieu, that isn’t helping!” Reluctantly, Talon released the man, and she returned to Alex. Her voice cracked, laden with despair. “I trusted you. Was I just a fair-weather friend? A conquest for the Lafittes?”
Alex’s gaze darted from Talon to Talia. He reached out to her, but she stepped away. “Talia, please listen. Oui, my cousins urged me to befriend you all those years ago. They knew who your father was, that he owned the grandest plantation in the territories. But I couldn’t... merde.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, Alex shook his head.
Talon scoffed loudly. Dear God, the whelp was in love with her. Spots danced in front of his eyes. What he wouldn’t give to remove Lafitte from the pen and give the man a facer. Slamming his fists against the bars, Talon grumbled. “Talia, you aren’t falling for this tripe, are you?”
“I wouldn’t ever harm you, ma cherie. Jean and Pierre know nothing about my missions with Ricardo. I took L’Archambeau’s offer because I didn’t want them to hurt you. These two scoundrels—” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder and Vargas issued a loud snore. “They’re looking for money.”
Or revenge. Talon glared at Perez. Pushing away from the pen, he grunted. “A likely story. So, how much were you getting paid? Wait, let me guess—five hundred pounds?”
Perez groaned as Alex’s brow furrowed. “How could you know that?”
Talon laughed dryly. “That seems to be the ridiculous rate for help these days.”
The rogue privateer shrugged. “Perez owes me seventy-five on top of the five hundred that L’Archambeau promised me.”
Pinching her bottom lip, Talia turned to Lafitte. “I took this assignment—under false pretenses, apparently. I need the truth.”
Having righted himself, Perez grasped the iron barricade and hissed at them through yellowed teeth. “Surely, you aren’t that stupid, Señorita. Your father owns the best plantation in the Louisiana territories, and he’d do anything for his precious daughter. You were our bait.”
A gasp flew from Talia’s mouth as fury flooded Talon’s. Ripping his knife from his boot, he slashed Perez across the hand. “Rot in hell, swine.”
Wailing, Perez clutched his bleeding digits as he fell to the floor. Startled awake, Vargas scrambled as far from Perez as he could.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t your heart,” Talon growled. “Come, Talia. We’re done here.”
Lafitte grabbed his sleeve. “I have more information! Let them perish in here for all I care but let me finish this mission with you.”
Crimson rage infiltrated Talon’s vision. Grabbing Lafitte by the collar, he jabbed a finger in his face. “We’ve done fine on our own the last few months, Monsieur.” Releasing Lafitte, he pulled on Talia’s arm. “Are you coming?”
Her brow wrinkled. She stepped toward him, placing a hand on his arm. “Talon, what if he’s telling the truth?”
Talon opened his mouth, quickly closing it with a shake of his head. “What else do you need to know? We’d already reasoned that some bugger wanted your family home. Now we can plan accordingly.”
“Oui, but what if Ricardo is helping us? My father could be in trouble. We need Alex’s help.”
“To hell with this.” Pushing away from her, Talon stormed toward the stairs.
Talia ran after him. “There is no other way. I can’t do this without Alex.”
He whipped around. At Lafitte’s smug grin, Talon’s nostrils flared. His heart hardened. “Apparently, your loyalty only goes so far, yeah? I’m done here.”
“Remember who you work for, Monsieur.”
Talon stopped. She was right. What choice did he have? He was currently in this woman’s employ—and at her mercy.
Sniffing, he pursed his lips and issued Talia an icy glare. “Very well. You’re in charge, Miss Montrose.” He strode to the iron pen and looked Lafitte squarely in the eyes. “But if I find out you’re using her, you rogue, I swear to God I will kill you. Piece by piece. Do you understand?”
As Talon pressed his knife to the man’s hands, Lafitte jumped back. Grabbing his hat from the wall, he grumbled, “Merci. We don’t have much time.”
Pulling the keys from his pocket, Talon unlocked the prison cell. As Lafitte fled, he pushed Alberto back before closing the gate.
“Take me too, Barberry,” Vargas begged. “I’m a good navigator. Por favor, don’t leave me here with this mess.” He pointed to his pallid prison mate who was lying supine upon the wooden floor.
Talon threw up his arms, a hot flush creeping across his neck. “You think I’m daft? After what you did to us—to me?” He spun around to face Talia. “Nay. I released your fancy beau, but these simpletons deserve to rot in their own stench.”
Talia shook her head as her eyebrows squished together. “Talon—”
“I don’t want to hear another word. As soon as I escort you back to—wherever the hell we’re going, I expect full payment for my services. Then I’m taking the first ship back to England. You have all the help you need right here.” He jabbed a finger at Lafitte’s chest.
Taking a step backward, the man held up his hands in acquiescence. Sheathing his dagger, Talon slid one last look at Talia.
“Talon, wait!”
Her sobs echoed across the hold, but he refused to look back. A heavy ache settled in his chest, her betrayal flooding his soul with pain. Hadn’t he promised he’d never let a woman infiltrate his heart? Did he think that she would be any different than Lina?
Ignoring her pleas, he stomped up the stairs to find his young ward. He didn’t need her. All he wanted was to get home in one piece and leave this nightmare behind.
Chapter 21
“I’M DISAPPOINTED IN you, Talia. How could you trust this scoundrel?”
As Captain Rousseau broke into Talia’s thoughts, she blinked rapidly, attempting calm before the tears fell. She’d spent the last hour devising a half-hearted plan with Alex and Jean-Jacques. Unfortunately, she could only think of Talon. It had taken all her emotional strength to concentrate on the mundane task at hand.
Right now, she wanted nothing more than to go to her cabin and cry. Apparently, Talon believed she’d chosen Alex over him. Couldn’t he see she’d already given him her heart and soul? That he thought she was somehow using him hurt beyond measure. She’d only released Alex because he’d met L’Archambeau in person and might know what the man was planning.
Glowering at Alex leaning against the bureau, Rousseau chewed on the end of his pipe. “Barberry is right—this won’t end well.”
Fighting back tears, Talia blew out a breath. The last thing she needed was to be chastised. “Papa’s in trouble. If what Alex says is true, this L’Archambeau is on his way to Temptation Hall to kill him. We can’t let them get there first. We need Alex’s expertise.”
Jean-Jacques sighed. “You are so young and naïve, ma cherie. What of your mother? Surely, they won’t kill Fernando while Monique is there, especially if they’re hiding behind these revolts.”
“Maman isn’t home. She sailed to Paris to visit my Aunt Hélène for the holidays. Apparently, she’s been quite lonely. Since Papa’s busy with the harvest, Maman thought it a good time to travel. A saving grace, I would say.”
“Perhaps.” Lifting an eyebrow, Captain Rousseau lit his pipe. He puffed pensively. “Has she ever ventured so far without your father?”
“Non, but again, it is harvest time. He had no choice but to stay and oversee the operations.”
Clearing his throat, Alex raked a hand through his hair. “Captain, how close are we to Guadeloupe?”
“Perhaps half a day.”
Turning to Talia, Alex rested his palms on Rousseau’s desk. “My orders were to take you to DuPont at the governor’s administrative office in Basse-Terre. From there, his son Pierre was supposed to sail with you to New Orleans.” His lips curved into a cheeky grin. “Fortunately, that gamin is no longer an issue. If we’re lucky, a shark took care of him for us.”
Talia tensed her shoulders. “What are you suggesting we do?”
Alex drew his brows together and rubbed his forehead. “We have to plan something convincing. DuPont doesn’t trust me. It’s only a matter of time before L’Archambeau discovers I’m working for Ricardo as well.”
Pushing his chair back, Rousseau stood. “When we get to Guadeloupe, we’ll room at the inn. Lafitte can inform this colonel that we’ve captured Talia Montrose and that we expect payment before we hand her over. Then, we’ll hand L’Archambeau to the authorities.”
Alex rolled his eyes heavenward. “Except DuPont is the ruling hand in Guadeloupe. He was sent there by the French government to clean up the mess of the slave rebellions.”
Rousseau sat back with a grimace. “Oui, that is a problem.”
Stifling a yawn, Talia rested her head on the desk. She was tired of this inane chatter. Right now, she needed to return to her quarters and bury herself under the covers. “Can’t we finish this plan in the morning?” She glanced at Alex. “Where will you sleep?”
Standing, the captain smoothed the lapels of his overcoat and glared at Alex. “Lafitte can bunk with the sailors like Monsieur Barberry—if the man doesn’t throttle you on sight. I don’t condone violence aboard my ship, but for you, Monsieur, I’d make an exception.”
Talia’s stomach churned as Alex forced a smile. She could see that fight coming a mile away. With a tip of his hat, he grabbed his rucksack and bid her good night.
As he walked out the door, Rousseau chuckled. “Mayhap I’ll follow him and see how this ends.”
Talia smiled. Alex had no idea how protective Talon could be, especially where she was concerned. Was it so terrible that she wanted that from Talon Barberry?
RESTING IN THE BOTTOM hammock, Talon stared at the bulkhead, brooding once more. He wasn’t sure how everything was going to end, but one thing was certain. He needed to put Talia Montrose out of his mind and get his affairs in order.
As Marcus snored loudly above him, his heart swelled with love. Finding the boy had been the bright light in this disaster of a mission. Now that they’d been reunited, they could plan their lives accordingly. And he had every intention of making Marcus his son.
They could return to London. He’d find more permanent employment in the city, to be sure. But doing what? Unfortunately, his work had always been tied to the Romani way of life. All he knew were horses. And he wasn’t sure his family would accept his young ward.
Talon squirmed against the knotted ropes as a sudden dread infused his body. He didn’t want to go home. He hated city life... the rude people, the obnoxious smells, the noise. How would he survive?
Pushing himself up, he smiled. Perhaps they’d stay in the Americas, maybe travel to the northern states where Marcus could be free. Talon could buy a small place and raise his own stock with the wages Talia had promised him.
Talia Montrose.
He crossed his arms and sank into the netting, his mood darkening. The rich debutante had used her feminine wiles to get him into bed—ultimately, to use him. He was more than just angry. And hurt seemed too ordinary a word to describe the damage she’d done.
His heart was wounded beyond repair.
Not since Lina had he given himself so freely to a woman—for good reason. Once again, he’d let his guard down and opened himself to vulnerability. This time, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to fully heal. That she’d chosen an upstart like Alex Lafitte only drove the pain deeper.
The door to the bunkhouse swung open. “Speak of the devil,” Talon muttered. He slid a glare at Laffite as the weary man trudged forward.
Without glancing in his direction, Lafitte took an empty hammock near the port side of the bunk deck. Removing the ostentatious bicorne hat from his head, he placed it on a nearby hook. He unbuttoned his billowing shirt and fancy silk breeches and removed them accordingly. Fortunately, he turned over and quickly fell asleep.
Talon rubbed his temples as reality set in. Talia and Lafitte were cut from the same cloth. She came from a wealthy family of French and Spanish descent. Lafitte didn’t look like a pauper, to be sure. With his ties to the Territories, he was a more acceptable suitor for her.
Talon’s heart pounded mercilessly. The thought of her spending the rest of her life with that rake burrowed a six-foot hole through his insides. All that was left was a soul-deep ache that would surely be his undoing.
Gripping the sides of his hammock, he wrested over the edge and placed his feet on the floor. Fastening his boots, he donned his hat. He paused to cover Marcus with the light blanket, tousling his head gently.
Making his way to the top deck, he ran into Captain Rousseau taking his nightly stroll along the bow. The man puffed on his pipe, staring across the blackened sea as rings of smoke circled his head.
Talon plod
ded across the wooden planks and ambled to the rails, accepting Rousseau’s outstretched hand.
“Where are we headed, Captain?”
“We’re mere hours from Guadeloupe. We’ll continue there as planned.”
“And from there?”
Rousseau sighed. “I’m conflicted, mon ami. I would like nothing more than to confront this DuPont myself, but I’m under Monsieur Taylor’s employ. I can’t accuse the man without cause.”
Talon grunted. “DuPont and his son need a good whipping.”
“I agree.” Rousseau became pensive. “Monsieur Barberry?”
“Please, call me Talon.”
“D’accord, Talon. Talia said something that may be important, yet I can’t tie it together.”
Talon frowned. “What was it?”
“Lafitte claims this L’Archambeau is on his way to Temptation Hall to kill her father and take control of their plantation.”
Talon barked a laugh. “The cretin has quite an imagination.”
Rousseau sucked on his pipe. “Perhaps. However, Talia’s mother isn’t in New Orleans. She is on her way or most likely has arrived in Paris to stay with her sister.”
The hair on the back of Talon’s neck tingled as he rubbed his chin. “That’s convenient.”
“Oui, c’est vrai. I’ve never known Fernando to allow his wife to take such a dangerous voyage alone. Perhaps this Frenchman is close to the Montrose family—or closer than would appear.”
Talon leaned against the deck to contemplate the man’s theory. “L’Archambeau—what do we know about this man?”
“I frequently travel these islands, yet I’ve never heard of him. Perhaps we should question Lafitte about him on the morrow.”
“I don’t trust that upstart,” Talon muttered darkly. “Likely he’s involved with the whole thing.”
Rousseau tapped his fingers upon the rail and gave Talon a guarded look. “If I may interfere, Monsieur, I’ve known Talia most of her life. Lafitte may think he’s in love with her, but she has never once led the boy to believe there was anything but friendship between them. She’s never fancied young, immature pirates.”
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