Swinging her hips seductively, she tapped her decorative fan against her leg. She called out to the sailors again, her voice rising over the din of the crying children.
Talon pulled on Marcus’ sleeve. “What did she say?”
Marcus interpreted for him as the large sailor barked, “What do you want?”
A muscle jumped at her jaw as she focused on the man with the crop. With nostrils flaring, the woman snarled, “Let the child be. She’s too young for a knave like you.” She poked the husky sailor in the chest with her fan.
Folding his beefy arms across his chest, the sailor sneered. “What do you know. The spoiled Señorita actually cares about someone besides herself.” As the other sailor laughed, the man leaned toward her and stared her down. “If I take her anyway?”
“Then you’ll have to deal with me.”
Marcus’ eyes widened as he finished interpreting. Talon squinted at her. Surely, she didn’t think she could fight these hooligans by herself.
A crimson flush stained her porcelain face and her verdant eyes illuminated with fire as her breasts heaved against her bodice. Pursing her lips, she toyed with the end of her fan, challenging the man with a haughty look.
A jolt of desire shot up Talon’s spine. She was beautiful while smiling and waving at her subjects, but when angered, the woman was absolutely breathtaking. Mesmerized by her act, he held his breath, watching her every move.
The man roared with laughter and lost his grip on his prey. The girl fell to the ground, the shackles breaking the skin at her ankles. Blood trickled across the floor as she frantically tripped back to her place.
Miss Aringosa gave her a sidelong glance before issuing the sailors a seductive smile. “What will it be, gentleman? The devil or the deep blue sea?”
Growling, the guard whipped a wood-handled dagger out of his boot. “No woman talks to me like that. I don’t care who your papa is.”
The miss sidestepped the sailor deftly as his knife plunged into a nearby crate. He heaved it from the wood with a grunt. Taking advantage of the diversion, she kicked him in the backside before he could dislodge it. He tumbled forward and upended a nearby bucket of waste.
Soaked to the bone in muck, he bellowed, “Puta!”
Talon’s eyes widened. That word he knew. From behind them, the sailor’s comrade jumped to his friend’s rescue, brandishing a large cutlass hanging from his belt. The sailor in front swung the cutlass, nearly cuffing her in the head with the hilt, but Miss Aringosa dodged behind the man with the dagger.
Talon’s fingers twitched near his boot as he burst from his crouch. Marcus yanked on his shirt and cupped a hand over his mouth. “No, sah. We’s cain’ get involved. You want the tails on yo’ backside?”
Ripping the boy’s hand from his face, Talon hissed, “He’ll kill her.”
Marcus pressed a finger to his lips and shook his head mirthfully. “But she be winnin’, sah.”
Indeed, the woman was unlike any other Talon had met. Like an agile cat, she leapt to the side, and the two men collided.
Angry epithets bounced off the walls. Scrambling up, the first man bore down on her. From behind, the second sailor grabbed her wrists. She struggled against his hold.
Talon jumped to his feet. The woman couldn’t handle both sailors, no matter how brave she was. Forcing Marcus’ head down, he vacated his hiding spot.
As the man raised his cutlass to strike, Talon stepped between them. He shook a finger at them as if punishing a wayward child. “Tut, tut, my good man. Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to hurt a lady?” The steel of his dagger sang as he unsheathed it from his boot. “Now, you have to deal with me.”
He sliced the sailor across the hand. Roaring, the man lunged at him. Quickly deflecting his advances, Talon zipped around his backside. He grabbed the man’s right hand in a lock. The sailor dropped his weapon.
Grasping the man’s elbow, Talon hefted the man’s arm up and back. The joint dislodged. The sailor screamed. The cheers of the slave women resonated through the hold.
As Talon had rendered the man incapacitated, Miss Aringosa and her combatant had halted their parry. She quickly took advantage of Talon’s offensive and extracted her assailant’s dagger from the crate. She stabbed the stout sailor in the thigh. As he yelled out a curse, she picked up the whip from the floor and flayed the man across his face.
“How do you like it, Senor?”
The sailor with the mangled arm croaked, “Upon my word, the captain shall hear of this.”
Standing next to her, Talon drew in gulps of air, his lungs burning from their melee. He kicked their assailants with the toe of his boot and gave her a wink. “And that, you dirty scoundrel, is what happens when you mess with a beautiful woman in my presence.”
As Miss Aringosa released a soft whimper, Talon fought the urge to draw her into his arms. Her exotic scent played with his senses, drawing him to her like bees to a field of wildflowers. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to kiss the hell out of her.
But that wouldn’t do.
“Are you hurt, Miss?”
With her ample bosom heaving, she stared at him. Flecks of gold flickered through her jade gaze. Talon sucked in a breath. Dear lord, she wanted him, too.
His pulse raced as she took a step closer. “Er, Señorita?”
Before she could reach him, Marcus wiggled between them and pointed at the writhing sailors. “Massa Talon, what did you do, sah?” Dancing on his toes, the boy darted a wide-eyed glance at the stairs. “’Dis ain’ good. Lawd have mercy, Cap’n’s gonna give you the kitty fo’ sho.” The bondswomen were still chattering like magpies. Marcus whipped around. “You’s be quiet. You wanna get beat?”
Patting the boy on the head, Talon gave him a one-armed hug. “They just changed watch, lad. It’ll be hours before they’re found.” He searched the room, locating a skein of rope hanging on the wall. “Come. Let’s tie these rogues together.” The boy assisted him quickly, and as he turned to Miss Aringosa, a smile curved at her lips. He tipped his hat with a grin.
God help him, this was the strangest assignment he’d ever taken.
TALIA’S HEART DRUMMED erratically against her chest as she stood beside the tall man, dumbfounded by the events of this evening. She hadn’t expected anybody’s interference. But the moment he came to her aide, she knew this was Monsieur Barberry, the Infiltrator—the man hired to kidnap her.
Rubbing her temples, she eyed him warily. While he was older than some, he was no dirty savage. He was quick with a blade and stealthy. And did he have to be so damn handsome?
Sweat pearled across his forehead, dampening his shiny, dark hair bound back neatly with a piece of twine. His coal black eyes were focused, intent in his work. A small cleft puckered quaintly in his scruffy chin, and Talia sighed wistfully.
The child held the maimed sailor’s wrists, and Barberry wrapped the ligature around them, the muscles of his tanned arms and legs constricting with every pull. As he showed the slave child how to secure a proper knot, her nether parts skipped to the lively tune of a quadrille. It was such an endearing scene. Did he have a family of his own?
Upon securing the other scoundrel, he stood to his full height, his head nearly touched the bulkhead. He gave her a crooked smile. “They aren’t going anywhere, to be sure.”
She opened her mouth, but words escaped her. As his gruff English accent dissolved her perfect manners, another jolt careened through her body like a tidal wave. Her gaze found his. He chuckled low in his throat, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.
Heat flooded her cheeks. Biting her lip, she grabbed his leather hat from the floor and handed it to him. With a nod of thanks, he smoothed his hair and donned it once more.
“Sah, what we gonna do?”
Talon turned to the boy. “Find Alberto Vargas. I’ll help the Miss.”
“Yes, sah.” With wide eyes, Marcus clambered up the ladder and out of the hold.
Grasping Talia’s chin between h
is thumb and index finger, Barberry stared at her, concern etched across his face. “Did those scoundrels hurt you?”
The virile scent of leather and sweat mixed with the salty air, and her heart pounded furiously. The pure masculinity he exuded would surely be her undoing. How could a man who had just spent ten minutes rolling on the floor with vermin smell so good? A hand flew to her throat.
“I knew it. Were you stabbed?”
As the angle of his hip hit hers, Talia inhaled sharply. Her womanly areas tingled. More than aware of his nearness, she took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. If she didn’t get control, she’d surely unmask herself and sabotage the entire mission.
“What the hell am I thinking?” he muttered. “You don’t understand a word I’m saying.”
Clearing her throat, Talia pushed against his well-muscled chest. “Merci, Monsieur, but I am not injured.”
Narrowing his eyes, Talon stepped away from her. “Jesus, you speak English? And French? I thought you were Spanish. Isn’t your father the owner of this vessel?”
Zut, what had she done? Talia swallowed hard. “Oui, I mean sí! I’m Creole. Mi Papa is Spanish, but Maman is French. I speak both languages fluently, but Maman prefers Français.”
Stop babbling.
She wiped the dew from her brow, sweeping away a stray curl that had escaped the pins at the top of her head. Another ringlet fell from its confines. Attempting to rearrange the mess, she fumbled with the ties, but her hair tumbled down her back in disobedience.
Talia glanced up, her lips parting with a small sigh as he invaded her space. He grazed a long finger against her cheek and caressed one of the errant strands. She whimpered softly. His presence warmed her blood like the heat of the summer sun.
As the bondswomen moved restlessly about the hold, the clanking metal stirred Talia back to reality. Talon dropped his hand and glanced at the women. “Er...”
She distanced herself hastily. “Thank you for your assistance, Monsieur.”
Talon touched the brim of his hat. “A pleasure. It’s fortunate you weren’t hurt. I’m Talon Barberry.”
Talia stared at him in wonder, cursing the rogue’s good looks. What in the world was the man doing to her? Her legs felt like mush. She offered him her hand. “Enchanté. Ta—” She coughed, recovering quickly. “I’m C-carina. Aringosa.”
Tingles radiated up her arm as he grazed her fingers with a soft kiss. His elbow grazed her bodice, and he froze. Glints of light from the amber flame of the lantern sparkled in his dark eyes. His pupils contracted. He sucked in a sharp breath.
Dieu, he feels it too.
Time stood impossibly still as she held his gaze. No man had ever made her feel like she’d been swept away in a flood upon first meeting. Usually, it was she who commandeered the stronger sex’s attentions with her charms. But this one...
He’d leave a lasting impression upon her for two lifetimes.
Footsteps thundered overhead, and as the din of the cargo hold came rushing back, she reluctantly pulled from Talon’s grasp.
From the landing, Alberto Vargas jumped to the wooden floor of the cargo hold with Marcus in tow. Racing to the unconscious sailors, he pointed at Talon. “Ay, Dios mio, Perez will have my head for sure. What have you done, Señor?”
Talia stepped in front of her savior before he could take responsibility. “Alberto, Monsieur Barberry had nothing to do with this. I heard the cries of the slave women and confronted the sailors of my own accord.”
Shifting from foot to foot, Alberto fingered the collar of his shirt, darting nervous looks between Talon and Talia. “Are you hurt, Señorita?”
She patted his arm. “I wasn’t harmed. I have this man to thank for that.”
Wiping his brow, Alberto swallowed. “So, you’ve met Señor Barberry.”
“Indeed, we have.” Breathless, Talia let her gaze wander over Talon’s well-honed physique. She instantly regretted the small indulgence as desire declared mutiny over her body and moistened her folds. Talon’s deep hum resonated off the walls.
A crimson flush dotted Alberto’s face, and he cleared his throat. Taking Talia by the arm, he all but dragged her from the cargo hold. “Señorita Aringosa, you must return to your quarters. Señor Barberry, you can get back to the bunks, sí?”
Throwing his legs wide, Talon met his gaze with a smirk. “Aye, sir. I think I know the way. What of these scoundrels?”
Alberto muttered, “Mierda. I’ll see to them later.” With that, he shook his head, glaring at Talia as he hurried her toward the staircase.
Glancing back at Talon, she issued him a sultry smile. She might not be practiced in the ways of love, but that didn’t mean she was oblivious to the attraction that had drawn them to one another.
And neither was Monsieur Barberry.
AS ALBERTO USHERED Miss Aringosa out of the cargo hold, Talon retrieved his dagger from the floor. Lust smoldered through his body like an ever-burning pyre. He ached to touch those chestnut curls. The desire blazing from her gorgeous green eyes would be burned into his mind forever. His cock had nearly exploded when her hip touched his.
Despite his physical reaction, his mind stirred like a nest of bees after their encounter. Carina Aringosa wasn’t like any woman he’d ever met—and he’d seen all types fighting amongst the sans culottes in France. She was beautiful and sophisticated.
And she knew how to use her wiles to play her targets.
Running a hand over the back of his neck, he cursed his stiffening member. He had to be careful. She wasn’t who she said she was, and it wouldn’t do well to get emotionally attached to her.
The crates in the corner of the hold jostled, snapping Talon out of his reverie. “Marcus? That you?” The lad scampered out from his hiding place with a wide grin, and Talon arched an eyebrow. “What?”
Pressing a hand to his mouth, the boy giggled. “Nothin’, sah.”
Rolling his eyes, Talon shoved his hat on his head. Grumbling, he stomped up the stairs to the main deck to soak his breeches with a cold bucket of water.
.
Chapter 7
“IT’S TOO DAMN HOT FOR this.”
Wiping his brow, Talon sat on his haunches on the main deck with a block of sandstone and a pail of water at his feet. The long days aboard the cargo ship had stretched into infinity, and he’d bided his time with menial chores.
After the fiasco in the slave pens, his freedom aboard the ship had come to a swift end. Apparently, the captain was suspicious of his intentions, so Alberto had urged him to help the crew with their duties. It was the only way to avoid being thrown in the brig. Unfortunately, he had other things to worry about.
As Miss Aringosa exited the stairway with her parasol for her daily promenade, Talon groaned in protest. His lust for the captivating woman hadn’t waned in the past few weeks. He watched her obsessively as she ambled around the ship.
“Stay away from her Señor Barberry. I’ve seen more than one man throw himself at that woman’s feet. If you aren’t careful, you’ll sabotage this mission.”
At Alberto’s behest, Talon always kept his distance. He assured the man that he wasn’t interested in Miss Aringosa or her delicacies, but he could do nothing to stop his overactive imagination. He’d never gotten so besotted with a woman that he couldn’t handle his work. It wasn’t in his nature. He knew what was at stake.
Aye, five hundred pounds. And my clan’s ridicule.
Then why was he staring at the woman like a love-sick fool? Standing, he grabbed the mop and tossed the bucket of salt water across the wooden planks.
He darted another glance at the woman. As her toffee-colored curls flowed down her muslin-clad back and shone in the morning sun, he rubbed his fingers together, imagining the feel of the silky strands.
She hesitated at the railing. Her parasol cast a pink shadow upon her eyes, and to his chagrin, he couldn’t get a glimpse of their verdant depths. Not that it was necessary. In his dreams, he envisioned her brilliant g
aze as green as the spring meadows where his ancestors roamed. Setting his bucket aside, he leaned against the galley chimney and tipped his hat over his eyes to watch her.
“You ain’ gettin’ any work done pinin’ like that, sah.” As Marcus’ voice rose from underneath the lifeboats near his station, Talon toed the tarp. The bump of the child’s round head bobbed. Talon chuckled. The lad had concealed himself well.
He arched a brow. “Who are you to judge, young man? Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
Uncovering himself, Marcus grinned. “I’s takin’ a break. ’Sides, the cap’n don’t care ’bout me. He too busy.” Talon returned his gaze to the sensuous woman who had invaded his dreams. Marcus leaned next to him. “You’s like the miss, don’t ya, sah?”
Arching his eyebrows, Talon scratched his beard. If Marcus could see his thoughts, he needed to work harder to conceal his desire. Pushing away from the rail, he grabbed his bucket. “You’re awfully young to know about such things, lad.”
“I works on a slaver’s ship. I’s seen more than mos’.”
One of the ship’s officers walked past and elbowed Talon with a menacing growl. “Get to work, stowaway.”
Scowling, Talon dropped to his knees and resumed his scrubbing. Apparently satisfied, the sailor moved on.
“Damnation, I can’t wait to get off this water beast,” Talon muttered.
Marcus touched his sleeve. His eyebrows furrowed as he whispered, “You won’t be here long, will you, sah? I sees it in yo’ eyes. When you leave, will you...?”
Talon sat back on his haunches and frowned. “What, Marcus?”
He glanced over his shoulder with a pitiful gaze. “Please, sah, take me with you! I’s a good worka’ and I likes you. You been good to me. I’s can help you spy. You saw how good I am in the shadows.”
Taken aback by Marcus’ request, Talon sighed. He wished he could save the lad. Even in the face of his suffering, Marcus had a contagious enthusiasm.
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