Pure Temptation
Page 13
Smacking his lips together, Talon unraveled his body from fetal position and pushed himself up. He devoured the food in two bites. “Water?”
Marcus went to the bucket and brought him a small cup of dirty mop water. “I’s sorry, sah. This be all we have.”
Without thinking twice, Talon gulped it down. He didn’t care. It was the first bit of sustenance he’d had in two days. A sharp pain jetted through his kidneys and he winced. “Damn you, Vargas.” He pulled on Marcus’ shirt. “You have to get out of here, lad. As soon as we dock, get off this ship.”
Marcus sat at his feet. “Stop worryin’ about me. You and the Miss be more important.” He leaned in. “An’ she be in danger, sah.”
Talon’s heart stuttered. “How do you mean?”
“I think Massa Perez is sweet for the Miss. He goes to her cabin a lot. I’s seen the way he looks at her.” Marcus shook his head. “It ain’ right.”
Adrenaline spiked through Talon’s veins. Growling, he pulled against his restraints. The scabs at his ankles began to bleed, but he didn’t stop. “Marcus, get behind me. What’s the lock look like?”
The boy scrambled to Talon’s backside. “It be an old, rusted one, sah.”
“Maybe we can we pick it. Find something... a nail or a tool of some sort.”
“Yes, sah.” Marcus ran silently up the wooden stairs. In five minutes, he came back with a rusty awl. As the boy fiddled with the metal apparatus, the chains clanked against Talon’s wrist bones. Holding his breath, he staved off the pain.
A few minutes later, Marcus sat back on his haunches with a sad sigh. “I’s not good at pickin’ locks.”
Giving up his fight, Talon slumped. “Don’t fret, lad. We’ll find a way.”
The boy’s eyes lit up, and he bounced to his feet. “Massa Vargas has the keys. We’s can attack him when he brings food.”
Talon lifted his iron chains. “I can’t do anything with my hands and legs bound, son.”
The boy thumped his chest. “I can.”
Talon gazed at Marcus’ emaciated form. Leaning against the child, he sighed. “Nay. I’d never forgive myself if you were injured. We can’t risk it.”
Plunking next to Talon, Marcus blew out a breath. “What we’s gonna do?”
“I don’t know.” Talon closed his eyes, dread settling in his chest like a plague. Two months ago, he was lamenting his lot in life with his Romani brethren. And now he was waiting in this stinking hell hole to die.
And for what? Adventure? Money?
He glanced at the boy curled up at his feet. There was no way they’d make it off this vessel without a miracle. He wished he could have saved the lad. Hopefully, Talia could get him off the ship safely.
Dear God, please...
Chapter 12
“ROT IN HELL, YOU NO good gamin.”
Her patience at an end, Talia spat on the ground near her assailant’s feet. Perez laid unconscious upon her bed, the smell of alcohol permeating his breath. He released a guttural moan. Streaks of blood oozed from the gaping wound at his temple, marring the blanket.
Pulling her torn sleeve up her bare shoulder, she scowled. As she rolled him over, she muttered, “It’s your own fault, Monsieur.” Hadn’t he brought the bottle of rum to her room?
Two Hours Earlier
“Señorita Montrose, I have your meal.”
As Perez unlocked the oak door, Talia scampered under the covers and feigned sleep. An exasperated sigh left her jailor’s lips as he set the tray on the table. “You can’t keep up this charade forever. You aren’t that good of an actress.”
Talia opened her eyes. Huffing, she threw back the wool blanket and glowered at him. “This is pointless, Perez. I’m already on my way to a death sentence. Just leave me be.” Taking a hunk of bread off the tray, she scarfed it down in two bites.
Sitting at the desk, he opened a bottle of rum. “Would you care to imbibe? Drown your sorrows?” He poured two glasses, offering one to her.
Talia’s lips curled up in a grimace. “I don’t want your swill.”
Arching an eyebrow, Perez poured her serving in his glass and shrugged. “More for me.” Propping his dirty boots on the table with a thud, he raised his glass and drank deeply. “Caribbean rum is the best in the world. Señorita, have I told you the tale of my life in Guadeloupe?”
Talia rolled her eyes heavenward. “I find it hard to believe I haven’t heard it all, Monsieur.”
He poured himself another glass of the amber liquid and tossed it back as quickly as the first. “We’ll be docking in beautiful Basse-Terre in less than twelve hours. Perhaps you’d like to hear about the city and my adventures there.”
With her nose in the air, Talia bit out, “You’ve shared more about your life than I care to know, Señor, and I could care less.”
Perez’ nostrils flared. With his fists clenched, he rose from his chair and stalked toward Talia. Raising his hand, he issued a backhanded blow to her face.
Pain erupted from her cheek as tears welled at her eyelashes. She touched the stinging welt and glowered at him. She refused to cry.
“You’re stronger than I thought, Señorita.” Perez grabbed his glass and imbibed in another shot of the demon rum. “I have half a mind to take you to my plantation in Guadeloupe and defy that upstart, DuPont. He’s only going to waste you. At least with me, you’d keep your life—although you would service me.” Eyeing her bosom, he raised his glass with a smarmy smile.
Glaring defiantly at the man, Talia crossed her arms and refused to speak. Sitting on the bed, he patted the space next to him. She gave him a haughty look. His fists clenched and his eyes narrowed menacingly. As he pushed himself to standing, she reluctantly moved to his side.
“Bueno. You’re learning quickly. I could easily break your spirit.” Perez took another drink. “So, let me continue. Guadeloupe is one of the most beautiful islands in the Caribbean. I have lived there for over three years—since my employer began his infiltration of the islands. He’s a very persuasive man.”
Patting the fan at her hip, Talia perused Perez carefully. He was talkative this evening, more so than usual. She snorted. “DuPont is an imbecile.”
Perez snorted derisively, slurring his words as he poured himself another shot. “Dios, querida! DuPont isn’t my employer. He and I are equals. We work for the same man.” He paused. His eyes glazed over as he said, “No, it is more than just employment. Ours is a righteous cause.” He tossed back another.
“Is that so?” Opening the fan, Talia lifted an eyebrow with a provocative pout of her lips. “I assumed you were in this for the money. Like Alberto.”
“I don’t need money.” He stared at her as if such banality were beneath him. “With the right man in charge, our world will be a better place. France is already making headway in New Orleans. With General Bonaparte’s leadership, we shall take the islands from the British and establish the proper foothold we need. We’ll all be rich.” Listing to his left, he gulped the rum and splashed a few more ounces in his glass.
Talia sat back and eyed him cautiously. This is better than breaking into the man’s office. The mattress sank as she sidled closer to him and linked her arm through his. “What does an old Spaniard like you care about French imperialism? Aren’t you tired of war?”
Perez slumped against her. “Sí, so tired. I just want to live at my lovely island home. The rebellions won’t stop until the French take back what is rightfully theirs, including the American Territories. With my contacts, I will help him overthrow the Spanish and British usurpers in New Orleans.”
Like Ricardo perhaps?
Talia grabbed the bottle of rum, emptying the contents into his glass. “What do you gain from this?”
A drunken smile curved at the man’s thin lips as he issued a silent toast. “A life of peace—and the governorship. What more does one need?”
She placed her hand on his lanky leg. As her fingers inched up his thigh, his member twitched against his breech
es. She hummed. “What about DuPont?”
Waving his glass in the air, the man tottered from side to side. “That idiota is just some ne’er-do-well of the French National Assembly. My employer uses him to influence members of the government. He isn’t important.”
Talia frowned. “So, DuPont is just a pawn like the rest of us.”
Perez rotated his head in a full circle and slurred. “Eggshactly. Jus’ like us. We’re all pawns in the Frenchman’s game. Except for me. I’m his loyal servant.” The man saluted himself proudly.
Taking a deep breath, Talia steadied Perez. The mission was more complicated than she thought. Ricardo had mentioned the Lafitte brothers, but now the French government was involved? Was Talon aware of these plans?
Crossing her legs, she leaned against Perez and exposed her thigh. Gently touching his lower lip with her fingertip, she purred, “Ramón... Who is the Frenchman?” Her hand stopped short of his hardening member.
With wide eyes, the man shifted against her hand. “I-I can’t tell you.”
Standing in front of him, she massaged his thighs. She unbuttoned his ragged shirt and fingered his hairy chest seductively. “Come now, Monsieur. I can make it worth your while.”
“Puta!” Perez burst up and seized her by her hair, staggering as he stood. Talia cried out in pain as he hauled her across the room in a stupor. “Your wiles won’ work on me. I will never exshpose Señor Chambers. He’s our savior! He’s—” Perez’s face went blank. “Dios mio...”
Wrenching away from him, Talia hissed, “Merci, Señor.”
With wild eyes, he clutched the sleeve of her gown and pulled. The silk at her bodice ripped, exposing her breast. Perez’ eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath. “Dio...”
As Perez was distracted, she snatched the empty rum bottle from the table. Heaving it with all her strength, she clobbered him over the head. Glass scattered everywhere as he fell to the bed with a thud.
Talia waited for a few moments, hoping to God the watch hadn’t heard her their scuffle. Everything was silent. “Bon.”
Wresting the keys from her captor’s person, she stuffed them in the knapsack she’d hidden beneath the bed. She looted his pockets. Finding a few bank notes, she took those as well.
With a last look around, she grabbed her fan and opened the door. She stopped. Turning toward Perez, she squinted at his crumbled body and smiled. “Just one more thing before I leave, Señor...”
“MASSA, PLEASE DON’ go to sleep. We’s gonna find help. I promise!”
As Marcus wept at his feet, Talon touched the lad’s shoulder and coughed. The movement sent a sharp stab through his lungs. The last several hours, he’d faded in and out of consciousness. The loaf of bread he’d eaten hadn’t been enough to sustain his energy.
He lifted his head from the floor with uneven breaths. His hair clung to his shoulders in clumps, sodden from perspiration. He closed his eyes and panted. The hold was always ungodly hot. If he didn’t get fresh water soon, it would only be a matter of time before he succumbed to death. “Marcus... water?”
“You knows I don’ have any.” The boy put his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth, sobbing harder. “Don’ die on me, sah.”
Light filtered from beneath the heavy oak door at the end of the cargo hold. As a small creak echoed off the hull, Talon pushed against the boy with his feet. “Hide, son.”
Marcus scampered to his corner, and Talon steeled his spine. He’d be damned if he went down begging for mercy. If he were going to die, he’d do it his way.
The figure drew closer. Talon scowled. “I don’t know what else you want from me, Vargas, but I’m almost dead. Slit my throat and be done with it already.”
A curvy figure stepped out of the shadows. As Talia’s exotic scent wafted around him, his breath caught. It was as if she’d been sent from above. “Thank God you’re safe...”
Sitting on her haunches at his side, she stroked his brow, pity etched in her beautiful eyes. She kissed his forehead. “I’m not ready to let you die yet, Monsieur. We have unfinished business.”
“TALIA? I CAN’T BELIEVE it. How did you escape?”
Pain pierced Talia’s heart as she regarded Talon’s sorry state. She stroked his hair. “Dieu, look at you. I shouldn’t have taken so long.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Is that so?” Talia inspected Talon’s bindings. They were solid, too sturdy for her to break. “Maybe if I just...”
As she lifted his shackles covered in blood, Talon groaned. “Nay, love. I’m done for. Get Marcus and save yourselves before the first mate—”
Talia smirked. “Perez is all tied up at the moment.” Setting Talon’s leg on the ground, she grabbed a nearby lamp from the wall. As the flames illuminated the hold, she clapped a hand to her mouth. “Mon dieu, what have they done to you?”
No wonder he was so weak. Dried blood caked every inch of him, gashes of different sizes and depths marring his handsome face. Another day of this, and he would have been dead. She hoped to God she and Marcus could get him off the ship.
Examining the lock at his shackles, she whispered, “Who has the keys?”
Boots thudded upon the stairs. With a cry of surprise, Alberto stormed across the hold. Settling his gaze on Talia, he rushed toward her. “How did you—?”
He seized a set of shackles, swinging them wide as he circled her. Talia jumped away from Talon. One smack of the heavy iron would take both of them down in an instant. “Let us go, Alberto.”
“Don’t be silly. You can’t escape, Señorita. We’re too far from the coast. Even if you made it off this ship, you’d never survive.”
The man feinted to the right. With agile steps, Talia dodged his advances and ran in the opposite direction. “We’ll take our chances. I’ll be damned if some reeking Spaniards choose our fate.”
Vargas laughed. “You have the courage of a lion, Señorita. Unfortunately, you have the strength of a lamb.” He swung the chains again.
Talia zigzagged, trying to avoid the slave women who were cowering. She ducked one last time. Pain jolted through her body as Vargas’ chains skimmed her backside.
“You can’t win. Join us. We’ll make a deal.”
Pushing herself up, Talia ignored her wound and hobbled toward the staircase. “I’ve heard all I need to about your deal, Monsieur. Do you really think L’Archambeau will pay you for losing me?”
Alberto screamed out from behind her. “You son of a—I’ll kill you.”
Talia whipped around. With his legs draped over Alberto’s torso, Talon gritted his teeth and panted. He’d trapped the man as she passed him. “Go, Talia! Get Marcus to the boats.”
Pushing away from Talon, Alberto scrambled to his feet. Wrapping the chain around his arm, he raised his hand in the air and twirled the metal like a lasso. “Adios, Señor Barberry.”
“Non!” Talia raced to Talon’s side. Jumping in front of him, she wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes.
Shock hit her like a torrential wave as the realization hit her like a tsunami. She would die for this man. She squeezed him tighter, her heart breaking into shards of glass.
A horrific crunch preceded a long groan, followed by the cheers of the slave girls. Clinging to Talon’s shoulders, Talia opened her eyes and gasped. Vargas had collapsed to the floor, landing upon his chains.
Marcus stood behind Alberto with his teeth bared, pure hatred plastered across his young face. A long wooden plank dangled from his hands. His eyes widened. Dropping his weapon, the boy cowered behind Talia. “I’s sorry, Miss! I’s—” The slaves yelled louder.
“Quiet,” Talia hissed. As the din died down, they listened silently. The ship bobbed upon the ocean, the waves crashing upon the hull. The floorboards of the old ship creaked. But nary a sailor came.
“Dieu, that was close.” Rolling Alberto over, Talia snatched the keys from his belt. Sweeping Talon’s cheek gently, she unlocked the irons at his hands and feet.
Pity broke her heart as she glanced back at the slave girls. They held out their legs, murmuring in their strange language, begging her to release them.
Marcus shook his head. “Please, Miss. We gotta get Massa Talon outta here. I’s can’t do it myself.”
Bidding the girls a hasty apology, she crouched low, ducking under Talon’s arm. Marcus did the same on his other side. “Ready? Up.”
Attempting to heave Talon to his feet, Talia staggered backward. Even in his emaciated state, she couldn’t support his height or weight.
Marcus dropped to his knees and panted. “How’re we gonna get him up the stairs? He be too heavy, Miss.”
“Leave me.”
She clenched every muscle in her body. Pulling on Talon’s limbs, she gritted out, “I won’t leave you behind.” Not after he saved her life. And kissed her. “Talon, please. You have to help us.”
Marcus pushed from the other side. “Come on, Massa Talon. I gots a boat ready, we jus’ gotta get there.”
Talon gazed at Talia and Marcus and held out his hands. “Lad?”
“I’s got you sir.”
As the boy hefted from his left side, Talon forced himself to his feet with a grunt. His face went ashen, and he buckled in front of them. Turning away, he vomited into one of the open hogsheads.
Wiping her hands on her breeches, Talia sighed. “This will be more difficult than I thought. Come, Talon—once more.”
It took all their efforts, but they finally assisted him up the stairway to the galley on the deck above them. Talia stopped for a moment to catch her breath. They’d come too far to give up now.
“The watch should be circling soon.” Marcus released Talon. “I’s go an’ scout, Miss. I’ll whistle when it’s clear.”
As the child crept out of the kitchen, Talon fell to the wooden floor. Talia sat next to him. Grabbing her hand, he kissed her knuckles. “You saved me.”