Pure Temptation

by Auria Jourdain

  This sure as hell doesn’t look like any port I’ve seen.”

  The captain struggled against Talon’s tightening grip and choked out, “Not to worry, mate. I was told to bring ye here so’s the Frenchies won’ harass ye.”

  A flush of anger crept up Talon’s neck. “Who hired you?”

  The skipper looked away with a shrug. Releasing the lout, Talon hoisted his knapsack to his shoulder and stalked to the rocky shore. He glanced at the sun’s position. Pulling a piece of dried meat from his bag, he propped himself against a tree.

  He should have trusted his instincts and demanded more information before he agreed to this mission. With Edouard dead, he had no contacts in France. From what he’d heard, the war had only escalated since he’d left.

  There isn’t anything I can do about it now.

  Tipping the brim of his hat over his face, he closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. He wasn’t sure what to make of all this, but one thing was for certain.

  Someone had a lot of explaining to do.

  A DISTINCT RUMBLING roused Talon from sleep. Wiping his eyes, he stood. As twilight swallowed the warmth of the day, he caught sight of the captain and his son at the far end of the beach.

  They’d lit a fire.

  As a stiff breeze tore through his threadbare clothes, Talon pulled the lapels of his overcoat closed and grabbed his satchel.

  “Splendid idea, gentlemen.”

  Thunder surrounded him like the ominous roll of a drum. He scanned the sky. Hopefully, his contact would arrive before the storm hit. Squinting in the darkness, he cocked his head. Nay, it wasn’t thunder. It was getting closer.

  What in the hell is that?

  As a shiny black post-chaise broke through the tree line, Talon jumped from its path. In the scant light of the oil lamps situated at the tops of the carriage, he could make out a large B etched in gold filigree upon the door. Pivoting to the side, he gave the vehicle a wide berth.

  The driver pulled back on the reins, and the carriage rolled to a stop. A haggard man dismounted the nag. As he came into the light, he tipped his hat and issued Talon a lopsided grin. “Have you been waiting long, mon ami?”

  Edouard Blanchefort’s manservant, Jacques LeFevre, extended his hand, and Talon accepted his greeting with a broad smile. He had no apprehension with this gadjo. “Jacques, you old nutter.”

  Lines snaked out from the man’s eyes. “Bon soir, Monsieur Barberry. It has been a while, non?”

  Talon smirked as Jacques turned toward the English sailors scampering toward them. He tossed them a coin purse. Counting their wages, the sailors thanked Jacques for his business and issued Talon a glare.

  Ignoring their insolence, Talon waved as the skipper and his son pushed the keelboat out to sea. Clapping his old friend on the shoulder, he chuckled. “You’re a welcome sight, Jacques. Papa didn’t tell me you requested me for this mission.”

  Pressing his lips in a flat line, Jacques shook his head. “It isn’t what you think. I am merely the humble servant, like yourself.” With a bow, he opened the carriage door.

  With her head held high, a woman stepped onto the iron steps, accepting the offered help to disembark. “Merci, Jacques.” Her thick, melodious French accent breached the evening silence. Pulling a wool shawl about her shoulders, she arched a finely manicured eyebrow and

  clasped her hands in front of her. “Talon Barberry, I presume?”

  “At your service.” He eyed the statuesque woman curiously. She wasn’t familiar in the least. Dressed in a simple gray gown, she swept her chestnut brown hair, streaked liberally with gray, from her face. She had an air of gentility that reminded him of Madame Claire. The woman wasn’t noble born, but she wasn’t a peasant, either.

  As Jacques snatched Talon’s leather hat from his head, Talon rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “Pardon my poor manners, Madame. I wasn’t born to the manor.”

  The Frenchwoman’s olive-green eyes sparkled in the scant light of the carriage’s lanterns as she perused him from head to toe. Linking her arm with his, she smiled. “I can see why Edouard joined forces with you. It seems you have a bit of the peasant in you, oui?”

  The hair on the back of Talon’s neck prickled. Pulling out of her grasp, he glared at her. “Is that so?”

  “Bien sûr. Edouard fought for the common man until his dying breath.” Wrinkles creased the skin near her eyes. “Oui, you were the perfect person to guide my Contesse on her quest.”

  Scratching the back of his neck, he cocked his head. “You have me at a disadvantage, Madame. In any case, I have no recollection of you.”

  “Non, you wouldn’t,” she murmured. “My name is Hélène Beaupraît. Edouard and I were—” The woman paused, fanning herself. Amusement sparkled in her eyes as a soft smile curved at her lips. “Let’s just say we were more than good friends.”

  Raising his brow, Talon stared at the woman. How could this be? During his last adventure, he’d discovered Edouard and Madame Claire had had a clandestine affair. The man had never mentioned having a woman at home. Not that Edouard shared much.

  As if reading his mind, Jacques nudged him forward with a look of warning. Talon cleared his throat. “I apologize, Mademoiselle. I had no idea Edouard was intimately involved with anyone.”

  Hélène wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in dismissal. “It isn’t important. Come. You are needed in Paris, and Jacques and I are to accompany you.”

  Throwing his satchel in the boot of the post-chaise, Talon extended a hand for his hostess to embark the carriage. He climbed aboard after her. As they settled against the plush velvet seats, Jacques guided the horses forward.

  Hélène gazed at him expectantly. “It is a long ride to Paris, Monsieur. Since it is too dark to travel, we’ll stay at La Belle Maison for the evening and leave for Paris on the morrow.”

  “Thank you, Madame.”

  Talon stared at the slight woman pensively. With every new revelation, his respect for Edouard Blanchefort slowly died. Never would he have thought he’d serve his former employer—or the man’s lovers—from beyond the grave.

  How had he remained so loyal to the Frenchman when said man couldn’t be faithful to his chosen mate? Aye, Edouard had been dead for nigh on ten years, but apparently, his past still haunted the living.

  Talon pitied the poor woman who hadn’t a clue. Hélène cleared her throat. “Monsieur?”

  Startled out of his reverie, Talon returned his attention to her. “Forgive my rude behavior, Miss. I’m a bit tired from traveling.”

  Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Not to worry, I have enough energy to keep us entertained.” She tapped her fingers upon the arm of the bench and hummed. “While I am not surprised Edouard did not mention me, I’m dismayed that Contesse did not discuss me, at least in passing.”

  Talon smirked. Mayhap Edouard had a type. The witty tongue of this proud woman certainly reminded him of Claire. “I wouldn’t take it personally. Contesse and I didn’t speak often—at least, not alone. She and I didn’t get along at first. She was obstinate to a fault. After we reached London, she was... preoccupied.”

  “Oui. Love does that,” Hélène said mirthfully. “What of the young English homme? Is he good to her?”

  Loneliness washed over Talon like a muddy stream. Even after six years, he missed his friends. “Indeed, Eric is a good man. One of my best mates. He treats Contesse well.” Talon laughed. “Too well, truth be told. How many children do they have? Last I heard, she’s trying to manage three.”

  Hélène laughed with him. “Oui. They visited not long ago. Unfortunately, the rebellions in Ireland have forced them to move from Dublin. Since Eric’s grandfather passed, they are traveling to America in search of work.” She smiled. “Isn’t it ironic how one small event can alter the course of life?”

  He stared at her. “Quite.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You are Contesse’s cousin by blood?”

  “Nay. My father’s sister was m
arried to Mika Hawkes, Contesse’s birth father. It was quite a shock when we discovered her lineage.”

  “For us as well.” The woman heaved a sigh. “She was such a shy, frail girl. It took her several months to gain the courage to meet me after Edouard found her. Even then, we didn’t bond right away. As a child, she didn’t trust easily.”

  Talon glowered at the woman. “If you’ll pardon my rudeness, Mademoiselle, you didn’t see the disease-ridden village she was born and raised in, nor the intolerant fools that mistreated her—abused her, really.”

  Hélène patted his clenched fist and cooed, “There is no need to get angry, Monsieur. I know she had a difficult childhood. Fortunately, Edouard adopted her and nurtured her back to health. Maintenant? She’s married to her soul mate. Pray that all lives end so perfectly.” The woman clasped her hands to her chest triumphantly.

  “Their children are quite handsome, especially the girl, Maggie.”

  The thought of Eric and Contesse’s headstrong young daughter with her beautiful brown curls and sassy grin made Talon smile. “Aye. She reminds me of my sister when she was young. It’s a tribute to her Romani blood.”

  An enigmatic smile bowed at Hélène’s lips as she placed a gnarled hand on his knee. “Romani? I thought you were a Spaniard.”

  The hair on the back of Talon’s neck tingled as he stiffened against her touch. “You thought wrong, Mademoiselle.”

  “Pardon, Monsieur. Once again, I did not mean to offend.” Hélène squeezed his knee. “Although, for this assignment, perhaps I can persuade you to tell them in Paris that you are of Spanish descent?”

  Talon frowned. “I thought they knew of my background.”

  Hélène shook her head. “The head of the Paris league contacted Jacques and I to find an experienced adventurer for a clandestine mission. They didn’t care who it was, but they insisted upon someone loyal to our cause.” She paused for a moment. “And they had certain qualities they were looking for, including being a Spaniard. Jacques immediately thought of you. He says you are gifted with undercover work.”

  Talon smirked. “As I recall, Jacques helped me get my foothold in France by convincing my previous employer to hire me.”

  “Oui. I assure you this assignment is the same. I trust Jacques’ instincts. We need you undercover.”

  His smile faded as he pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’m not sure it’s wise to go into my new position under false pretenses. You’ll have to give me a better excuse than have faith. I do not trust so easily, Mademoiselle.”

  Hélène plucked pensively at the French band of colors she wore upon her sleeve. “Our position is complicated, Monsieur. We are now at war with nearly every European nation, and due to the upheaval in Paris, many of Edouard’s followers have become extremists. The initial band of loyal brothers and sisters he’d united long ago have been forced underground by the very people he recruited.” Her eyes widened. “Our recently deceased leader was forced to the guillotine—by our own members. Can you believe that? Many of us sacrificed our whole lives for freedom. But the radicals have beaten us down. We’re scared of attracting attention to ourselves for fear of having our heads lopped off.” She slapped her hand against her opposite wrist, mimicking the guillotine. She cleared her throat. “We mustn’t let them win, Monsieur.”

  Talon scratched his chin, eyeing the woman skeptically. He wouldn’t have thought her to be such a zealot. “Blanchefort died nigh on seven years ago. Why not give up this ludicrous fight and die happy at your country home?”

  Hélène sat up and sniffed. “Edouard sacrificed his life for the thing he loved most in the world—his country. It wasn’t until after his death that I realized how important his cause was to all of us. He was fighting for me as well as the peasants of our lands, and I must continue what he started. I owe it to him to see his legacy through.” Her cheeks flushed crimson, and she paused, folding her hands in her lap. “Edouard and I have a long history, Monsieur.”

  He sat back with his hands behind his head. “I’m all ears, Mademoiselle.”

  Hélène took a deep breath. “We met when we were children, and we fell in love. But we couldn’t marry. Edouard’s grandfather had stipulated in his will that he would have been stripped of his titles and lands if we had wed.”

  “Because you were a peasant?”

  “Non. I was born in a bourgeois home like Edouard. His grandfather was a wealthy merchant that had begged Edouard’s father to marry within his social class. However, he defied his heritage and married his true love, a blacksmith’s daughter. His grandfather retaliated by making Edouard pay for his father’s mistakes. To keep his lands and title, Edouard was forced to remain single. That is why he never mentioned me. We lived under a guise of reality. He played lord of the manor to help his cause, and I was the obscure spinster midwife of Blanchefort lands.”

  Talon frowned, disappointment clouding his mind. “Then Blanchefort wasn’t the man he claimed to be. I didn’t think he cared about money and power.”

  “You misunderstand,” Hélene clarified. “Edouard didn’t agree to his grandfather’s wishes to hold onto his fortune. He needed his place in society to help free the French from oppression. Upon Edouard’s death, all of his lands were divided amongst his peasants equally. Slowly, neighboring villages did the same.” A tear ran down her cheek. “Two years after his death, the monarchy fell. All of Edouard’s hard work had come to light. It was honorable, oui?”

  Relief washed through Talon. “That sounds more like the man I knew. And you’ve sacrificed more than most, Mademoiselle.”

  Hélène removed a handkerchief from her reticule at the side of her skirt and dabbed her misty eyes. “Oui, I could have had a life with a husband and children. In fact, Edouard begged me to seek my own path. I stayed because I couldn’t imagine life with any other man. I knew how important the revolution was to him.” She held her head high. “We did not parade our relationship in front of others. Edouard loved me. We were fated for one another, and I didn’t need anyone’s approval. I surrendered my happiness because I loved him more than life itself.”

  Blowing out his cheeks, Talon sighed. Between his brother’s lecture about needing a wife and this woman’s bleeding heart, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. His experience with love had rendered him disillusioned with the concept of soul mates and fate. “That’s a beautiful story, but what does this have to do with me? Surely, you’ve recruited other rebel Spaniards along the way.”

  Grasping his hands with her bony fingers, Hélène gazed at him intently. “Sometimes we must work under false pretenses to gain the upper hand, Monsieur. This assignment is a matter of life and death. According to Jacques, you’ve been wandering this world, a lost soul. Perhaps this mission will unfold your true destiny. What do you have to lose?”

  Chapter 3

  AFTER A FULL NIGHT’S sleep and a delectable breakfast of French pastries and coffee, Talon strolled around the impressive grounds of La Belle Maison looking for Jacques.

  He gazed across the landscape, the picturesque scene overwhelming his senses. Edouard Blanchefort was from a bourgeoisie family of self-made merchants, but Talon hadn’t realized how wealthy he was.

  Acres of well-manicured lawns and gardens teemed with elegant roses and lilies. Numerous farms dotted the countryside, apparently once a part of Edouard’s vast holdings. The two-story manor sat amongst it all, silently adding its grace to the rural country setting of everyday life.

  Talon silently thanked Blanchefort wherever his spirit may be. Contesse’s life had been a blessing compared to the indigent existence she would have had to endure with Mika or the perverse traditions of Sarah’s druidic cult.

  He walked into the stables. The substantial livery supported several carriages with nags, though he didn’t know why a dead man needed so many horses. “Jacques?”

  “Bon matin, mon ami.” Jacques stepped out from a large carriage in the far corner of the stable. “Did you sleep?”


  Talon greeted his friend with a yawn. “A bit. You’re up bright and early, I see.”

  “Mademoiselle Hélène needed me at the break of dawn. She’s delivering a baby in the neighboring village and shan’t be traveling to Paris with us.”

  “So, you’re my keeper for the day?”

  “Come now, Talon.” Jacques gazed at him somberly. “I’ve known you for many years. You stood guard over our Contesse. Edouard considered you family.”

  Talon’s eyes raked Jacques’ face darkly. In the wake of his brother’s warning and Contesse’s encouragement to take pride in his heritage, he had forgone false pretenses long ago. He was Romani, and he shouldn’t have to hide that fact. “The lady of the manor was informed that I was a Spaniard. Although that’s not quite right, is it? I’m supposed to pretend to be a Spaniard.”

  Jacques cocked his head. “Is that so difficult to do? You had no problem posing as a Frenchman the last time you visited our country.”

  Talon gently petted the nag attached to the carriage. “Touché, my friend.” He sighed. “To tell you the truth I’m not sure who I’m supposed to be or where I’m going. When did life become so difficult?”

  Giving him a toothy grin, Jacques clapped him on the back. “When you signed up to help the French win their freedom. Come, mon ami. LaBarre will be here soon with your orders.”

  Talon halted. “Phillipe LaBarre? Edouard’s barrister?”

  “Bien sûr. Is there a problem?”

  Grumbling under his breath, Talon followed Jacques to the manor. He and LaBarre hadn’t seen eye to eye during his last mission. “Does he know I’m coming?”

  Jacques pressed his lips together. “Oui. He wasn’t happy, but Hélène insisted.”

  Prickles gathered at the base of Talon’s neck. “Why is Mademoiselle Beaupraît so hellbent on me pursuing this assignment? She knows nothing of me.”

  “Perhaps not formally. But Edouard and Contesse talked of you often.”