“These.” Talia stripped off her chemise indecently and slipped a pair of white silk pantaloons over her stockings. Placing her hands on her hips, she strutted about the room dramatically.
Carina frowned. “Dios, like a man?”
Talia giggled and spun around in front of the mirror. “They’re quite comfortable.”
“No corset?”
“Au naturel is all the rage in Paris, ma petite.” Taking the gown from Carina’s hands, Talia shimmied it past her waist and slipped her arms in the sleeves.
As Carina assisted her with the stays, Talia held her arms wide. “Voilà. How does it look?”
Carina stepped back to admire the beautiful gown. With the waistline set at the bodice, the free-flowing garment hugged Talia’s supple curves perfectly. “You look stunning as always.”
Talia turned toward the mirror and smoothed her skirts. “Oui, c’est magnifique. He has impeccable taste.”
Carina eyed Talia suspiciously. “Who gave you this dress?”
Wiggling her eyebrows, Talia grinned. “It was a gift from a dear friend.”
Crossing her arms, Carina frowned. “You promised your Papa you wouldn’t have any contact with that heathen.”
As of late, Talia had been gallivanting about the Caribbean with Alex Lafitte, a cousin to the infamous Lafitte brothers. The man’s family had an ill repute around the West Indies. It was obvious Alex was enamored of Talia as he often sent her expensive gifts and lavished his full attention on her at every masque.
Carina wasn’t sure how close Talia was with the outlaw because she was secretive about her relationship with the rogue. Still, he influenced and encouraged her risky behavior. Carina couldn’t understand why Talia would risk everything for a thief and upstart like Alex.
“Now, now, ma petite. I’ve kept my end of the bargain. Alex has no idea where I am. This gown came to me through a mutual friend.” Talia pushed her feet into the white silk slippers. “D’accord, now I am ready.”
Carina wrung her hands together, worry streaming through her heart. What trouble might her friend find on her way home? Pulling Talia into her arms, Carina embraced her tightly. “Mi amiga, promise me you’ll be careful,”
Patting her arm, Talia whispered, “Do not fret, ma petite. I will write to you in England as soon as I return home. Come, let’s have breakfast. I’m starving.”
“SEÑOR ARINGOSA? SEÑORITA Montrose has arrived at your request.”
“Sí, send her in.” Pushing his portly form back from his desk, Ricardo Aringosa rubbed his aching temples. Preparing himself for the dangerous mission ahead had taken a toll on him. He’d hardly slept. And he wasn’t looking forward to speaking with Talia this evening.
The headstrong woman had been an invaluable informant for the Cabildo the last few years. She was talented beyond belief. Quite frankly, she was the only agent suited for this assignment. But her infamous stubbornness was a detriment, and he couldn’t help but worry. It didn’t help that she was Fernando Montrose’s daughter.
Their plan was in place. Nobody but the Marquis of Winchester knew they were changing itineraries. Ricardo’s contacts had informed him that the Frenchman’s spy, the Infiltrator, left Paris only a few days past. He’d arrive in Lisbon within the week. Posing as Carina, Talia would board the Spanish merchant ship, and she and her escort would thwart Colonel DuPont’s plans.
Fortunately, Carina wouldn’t suspect a thing.
Fingering his thin, black mustache, Ricardo gazed at the small portrait of his daughter. He hoped he was making the right decision. He loved Carina more than life. His wife’s untimely death and the ensuing grief had taken its toll on them both through the years, although Carina seemed to have suffered the most. He wanted her to be happy, even if it was with an English nobleman. But he had ample reasons for wanting to protect Talia from all harm as well—even if she wasn’t privy to them.
Allowing Talia to risk her life was a dangerous plan. With new information, the situation was more dire than he thought. He hardly knew the Spanish escort the French diplomat had recommended to guard her. Carina had voiced her protests as well.
But what choice did he have?
A slight knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Ricardo sighed. “Entero.”
The door opened, and Talia sauntered toward his desk, seating herself in the small cane chair opposite Ricardo’s. “You wished to speak to me, Monsieur?”
Steepling his hands in front of him, he gazed at her solemnly. “Sí. I’m having second thoughts about this assignment.”
Placing her fancy, oriental fan on the desk, Talia rolled her eyes with a huff. “I knew you would do this. We have nothing to worry about, Ricardo. We’ve planned everything to the last detail.”
Ricardo bowed his head. “I’m not so sure. This Infiltrator sounds like an unsavory character. Apparently, our new friend has a dangerous past. He’s worked for the French rebels for years. DuPont offered the scoundrel five hundred pounds for this assignment. That’s outrageous. What if he hurts you for the prize alone? Your feminine wiles can only go so far, Talia.”
With nostrils flaring, she leaned forward and glared at him. “You can’t lose faith the evening before we sail. I’ve been training for this for a month. My new partner seems qualified to help protect me in case of any mishaps. Think of Carina for once. We’re doing this for her. Who would you send in my place on such short notice? Maudy?”
Ricardo wagged a finger at her. “And what would I tell your father if you return to New Orleans in a coffin? Shall I tell him you’ve been spying for me for two years?”
“It won’t come to that, I assure you.” Jutting her lip out, Talia crossed her arms. “Why won’t you confide in Papa about your dealings with Alex and his cousins? You’ve been working with them in Martinique nigh on a year.”
Warmth crept up Ricardo’s neck, and he pulled his cravat from his throat. “Fernando would never understand. And I’m hoping I won’t have to reveal our intentions to him. Ever.”
Talia snorted. “Papa will find out sooner or later. Rumors of your shady business dealings have been running rampant around the city, tarnishing your reputation.”
“As have yours.” She glared at him, and he sighed. “By the time you return to New Orleans, Lafitte will have taken care of everything on his end once and for all. You got the dress he sent you, I see.”
She ran her hand down the muslin skirt. “Oui, merci.” She tilted her head with a scowl. “And you’re changing the subject.”
Ricardo glowered at her. “Fernando is my best friend. He detests the Lafittes—because of you. I’m not proud of my work with the rascals, but they are gifted businessmen. We have full trade rights upon the Mississippi, and although I’ve promised them to several different people, Alex assures me his cousins are prepared to offer me a most handsome bid.” Talia’s eyes widened and he muttered a curse under his breath. That wasn’t common knowledge. “For the moment, the Lafitte’s serve a purpose. I do what I must for New Orleans.”
She folded her hands delicately in her lap. “This is a losing battle, Ricardo. The Lafitte generosity will only last so long. Alex’s cousin Jean is a barbarian. He only involves himself in endeavors that are to his benefit. It would be better to let Papa in on it before you find yourself at the end of Jean’s whip.”
Aringosa sighed, his broad shoulders slumping in defeat. Her instincts about this were correct. Unfortunately, it was too late to stop the unfolding chain of events. He took a deep breath. The Frenchman with whom he’d held several clandestine meetings wasn’t a patient man. And they’d run out of time.
“Perhaps you’re right. We don’t have time to change our plans. I will escort you to the ship, Carina and I will leave for England a few days later, and the Infiltrator will be none the wiser.”
Talia’s eyes softened. “Oui, she will marry the love of her life.”
He glanced at the floor. “Sí, sí. It was pure luck that she fell in love with that damn Inglés.
Too bad I have to fawn over his noble parents for two months.” Ricardo snickered. “God only knows why the whelp wants an odd girl like mi hija.”
With a stern gaze, Talia thrust her fists to her hips. “Do not belittle Carina in front of me, Ricardo. I refuse to be a pawn in your little game with her. Thankfully, she’s marrying someone she loves. If it were up to you, you’d have arranged her to some snooty Creole dandy for your political interests. Or mayhap to Jean Lafitte.”
Ricardo gritted his teeth. “Do you think I care so little for my daughter?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Where were you when she needed you? She has no clue what nasty business you do for the Cabildo. She idolizes you, yet you don’t give her the time of day.”
Pursing his lips, Ricardo palmed the desk. “What would she say if she knew you’d risked your virtue to spy on unsuspecting men because you have some distorted need for adventure? Is that why you’re so adamant about seeing this through?”
Clenching her fists around her fan, she leaned forward. “I took this mission for Carina—not for you or the Cabildo. I could care less about your intentions or your business dealings.”
Dios, this girl has nerves of steel. “Only you would sacrifice your own reputation for your best friend. Saint Talia Montrose! Can you do no wrong?”
Bursting up, Talia glared at Ricardo, her brilliant green eyes glimmering with rage. “I have been an asset to your network for two years, Señor. Our families have been friends since before my birth. You have no right to cast judgments upon me.” She stomped away, pausing for a moment at the massive door.
Suddenly, she whipped around. Unsheathing a silver blade from the tip of her fan, she flung it deftly across the room. The blade punctured the oak desktop with a thunk, just shy of Ricardo’s right hand. Swallowing hard, he rubbed his fingers with a grunt.
Talia bounded toward him, her face mere inches from his. Yanking the knife from the wood, she slowly drew it past the tip of his nose. “If I find out you’re using me, Ricardo Aringosa, I swear you won’t live to see your grandchildren. You aren’t the only one who has the ear of the Lafittes.”
Chapter 5
JULY 31, 1798
Lisbon, Portugal
“For the love of God, why must they send me to these godforsaken places?”
Struggling to push his way through the crowds, Talon scanned the wharves of the bustling city of Lisbon, the next step of his mission. People from all walks of life ambled about the market on this beautiful Saturday morning, but once again, he felt uncomfortable amidst it all.
Give me the French countryside any day.
He shifted his knapsack to the other shoulder and scanned the port. Pressing his fingers to his aching temples, he grimaced. Horns blasted through the crowded waterway as ships of all shapes and sizes cluttered the wharf. From slave ships to merchant brigs, tugboats to fishing boats, vessels were docked everywhere.
He ambled across the boardwalk. Sailors dressed in rags called out to each other in Portuguese as goods were removed from a nearby schooner and placed on the docks. The potent smell of fish and various spices bombarded him from every direction.
Farther down the waterfront, African slaves were lined up by the dozens. Chained and forced down gangplanks by crew from the merchant ships, no doubt the poor souls were on their way to the West Indies to serve on the sugar plantations for the rest of their miserable lives.
“Slavery. What a load of shite.”
Pushing his anger aside, Talon strode quicker, dodging workers to find the Spanish vessel DuPont had instructed him to board. Before he could slip by two crewmen unloading hogsheads of tobacco onto a wagon, a young vagabond about fourteen years of age cornered him.
Removing his battered hat, the boy held it out and smiled. His curly black hair blew wildly in the southerly winds as he spoke quickly, pointing to the overturned chapeau. Talon tossed two copper Reals on the deck, making the lad scramble for his treasure. Ruffling the lad’s hair, he chuckled. The boy reminded him of himself at that age.
Weaving his way through the mob, he finally stopped at the far end of the pier. Sucking in a breath, he turned to face the largest ship he’d ever seen. “Holy mother of God.”
A grand brigantine four decks high, the Nueva Linda was bustling with activity as sailors busied themselves about her top deck. Regal scrolls decorated the sides of the ship’s black and gold hull. A hand-carved eagle in flight stood vigil at the bow of the boat to guide their journey. On the quarterdeck, the shiny wooden wheel gleamed in the morning sun as the captain leaned against it with a smile.
Her main mast soared skyward like some tribute honoring the gods. Four square canvases were rolled up at the ready with their flaps billowing in the morning breeze. Her fore and aft masts held smaller sails like the others, and indeed, the Spanish flag flew proudly above them all.
Hastening his steps, Talon grinned broadly. This was going to be one hell of an adventure.
“Atençao!”
People chattered in excitement. Arching an eyebrow, Talon glanced around. A burly man in a tricorne cap walked the length of the pier, waving his hands to clear the way of the common folk. The crowd parted without a fuss. Frowning, Talon followed the commoners to observe the commotion.
What in the world is going on?
He stepped behind a sailor from the large schooner docked next to the Nueva Linda and tapped him on the shoulder. “Pardon, sir, do you speak English?” Shaking his head nervously, the man held up his palms and scooted away from Talon’s intrusion. “Damnit it all...”
“You need help, Señor?”
A portly, weather-beaten sailor of Spanish descent clapped Talon on the back. Dodging the man’s hand, Talon motioned to the approaching parade. “Do you understand what that man is saying?”
The man smiled. “Sí, of course. He’s announcing the arrival of Señor Aringosa and his daughter, Carina, and ordering us peasants to stand back so they can board the ship.”
Talon’s brow lifted upon recognizing the name of his target. “Blimey... are they royalty?”
The Spaniard laughed boisterously. “Dios, No. If it were the king, we wouldn’t be allowed on the pier.”
Standing back, Talon watched the formality with keen interest. At the front of the crowd, women bowed and children hovered, genuflecting with their hands held out like the poor souls they were.
Talon stifled a smirk. What were they hoping for? Money? In England, the commoners wouldn’t stop their work for such inconsequential nonsense. In fact, the peasants lined up to spit on the rich.
He turned toward the gangplank. To hell with this. Pomp and circumstance didn’t impress him. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to settle into his bunk.
All of a sudden, a statuesque woman emerged from the crowd. As the beauty paraded toward the ship, her head held high with undeniable confidence and grace, Talon dropped his pack. “Bloody hell!” Clearing his throat, he pulled his hat down over his eyes, tracking her intently.
Clasping her yellow parasol in her gloved hand, her other hand rested on her father’s arm. Rays of light bounced off the ringlets of her chestnut-colored hair coiffed stylishly upon her head. Her emerald eyes, sparkling in the sun, mimicked the color of spring. Her full, rosy lips curved into a smile. She beamed at everyone as if she were the queen on the way to her coronation. At that moment, the summer breeze picked up, and the woman’s gown hugged her lissome body, accentuating the ample curves of her breasts and hips.
Talon clenched his fists. Jesus, she’s beautiful.
A man standing on the dock greeted Miss Aringosa and her father at the gangway. With his assistance, the enchanting minx sauntered up the plank and onto the ship, issuing the man a seductive wink. With a final wave to the crowd, she disappeared below decks.
Talon’s heart thumped in his chest like a stampede of wild horses as heat pooled at the base of his neck. This wasn’t good. He’d never had such a physical draw to any female—not even Lina. Head to toe, his t
arget looked like an innocent angel. Unfortunately, her devil-may-care smile unveiled a raw sensuality that had awakened the long dormant desire he’d stuffed away after he’d been shamed.
Shifting his weight, he raked his fingers through his hair and cursed. He hadn’t dreamed Carina Aringosa be so lovely. Who knew what DuPont planned do to this beautiful girl after Talon kidnapped her? Was her death worth five hundred pounds? This certainly made his job more difficult. Not impossible, just...
As the fanfare concluded, the cacophony of the pier returned to its usual din, Talon hissed to himself, “Get control, you bugger.”
“Ay, Dios mio, you can’t touch that one, so don’t even try, Señor.” The Spaniard behind him barked a laugh, breaking Talon’s reverie with a clap on the shoulder. “Are you Barberry?”
Whipping around, Talon glowered at the man. “Who wants to know?”
The craggy Spaniard removed his tar hat from his balding head and held out a hand. “Alberto Vargas. I’m your contact for this mission.”
Folding his arms over his chest, Talon swung his legs wide and eyed the man suspiciously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Vargas gave him a simpering smile. “I was told you were good, Señor. But you stick out like the sores on a leper. We have mutual French friends. Señor LaBarre and Señorita Beaupraît?”
Talon glared at the man. “I wasn’t informed I had a contact to meet.”
“How do you think you’re getting on this ship? In the cargo hold? I can arrange that if you’d like.” The man’s dull brown eyes danced mirthfully.
Talon clenched his hands at his side, ready to pull the knife out of his boot. DuPont hadn’t said anything about a contact, nor had Jacques. “Who sent you?”
“Dios mio, you are as stubborn as they said.” Vargas scratched his head. “Here.” He handed Talon a small parchment sealed with Edouard Blanchefort’s mark.
With a glare, Talon snatched the letter from the man’s sausage-like fingers.
Pure Temptation Page 6
