He refused to let her move. Brushing the hair from her face, he kissed her neck and spooned her body against his. Her sweet breath warmed his arm. As he kissed her forehead, she snuggled closer. She fell asleep, and he kept a silent vigil, breathing her in.
As the waves slapped against the sides of the ship, gently rocking the Winged Runner, the importance of this assignment sank in. Hélène had hired him to guard Talia at all costs. And that’s just what he planned to do. But not because she’d hired him to do so.
Talia Montrose was his. And no man would ever take her from him.
Chapter 20
“WE SHOULDN’T JUST BE sitting here.”
Talon paced the captain’s quarters with his hands clenched at his sides, readying for a fight. The activity above deck had begun to pick up an hour ago, and they still didn’t know what was going on.
Curled upon the bed, Talia glanced up from her book, her lips curving into a sensuous smile. “But you aren’t sitting, mon cher.”
Crossing his arms, he arched an eyebrow. “How can you be so calm? Vargas and Perez are just outside, waiting to return us to DuPont—or whomever oversees this bloody fiasco.” Not that he’d let that happen.
Abandoning her position, she strode across the room and took him in her arms. “Talon, I trust Jean-Jacques. He’s like a father to me. As hard as it is to be patient, we must follow his orders.”
“I’ve never been good at waiting.” He stared up at the ceiling as the crew stomped across the top decks. Sailors chanted as they pulled on the rigs, and the captain’s muffled voice boomed something unintelligible.
Suddenly, the unmistakable boom of a cannon reverberated off the walls. The ship lurched to the left. Talon ran to the small porthole window. “What in the hell is he doing?”
Pushing him aside, Talia said, “He’s maneuvering us toward one of the other islands.” Her eyes widened. “He’s trying to outrun the ship.”
“Is that possible? This is just a merchant vessel.” Talon’s eyes darted nervously from the window to the cabin door. He had no idea about sea going warfare, how fast ships could go or the differences between types of crafts. The anticipation was driving him mad.
As the captain roared above the din, cannons thundered around them once more. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air, and Talon started for the door. “This is ridiculous. We have to help!”
As if this were a regular occurrence, Talia stepped in front of him, touching his chest with her palms. “Calm down. Let Jean-Jacques deal with it.”
He threw his hands in the air and huffed. “Has this ever happened to you?”
“No,” she admitted. “But Jean-Jacques tells some animated tales about his exploits at sea.” She gazed at Talon nervously. “He used to be an illegal privateer before he got his marque from Martinique.”
Talon’s eyebrows shot up. “So, he’s a pirate, too?” The man didn’t resemble any bandit Talon had ever—
What in the hell am I thinking? I’ve never met a damn pirate.
She arched her eyebrow as if chastising a wayward child. Forking his hands through his hair with a heavy sigh, he sank into the rickety chair near the bed. “If you trust the man, that’s good enough for me.”
They stayed hidden in the cabin for what felt like hours. Talia had fallen asleep in Talon’s arms as he tried to doze off between the blasts of the cannons and the sailors’ commotion above deck. Just as the sun began its descent in the west, a loud knock startled him awake.
He jolted up and strode to the door with Talia on his heels. Pressing his ear to the frame, he put a finger to his lips.
“Who is it?” she screeched in Talon’s ear, mimicking an unnaturally high-pitched voice.
Talon rolled his eyes skyward. “For the love of God...”
“Talia? Talon?” Jean-Jacques called from the other side.
Pulling the key from his pocket, Talon began to unlock it. Thinking twice, he hesitated. “Are you alone?”
The captain’s muffled chuckle slid through the cracks. “It’s just me and Fitz, mon ami. We are safe now.”
Talon whipped the door open, cracking the wood at the hinges. “Good Lord, man, we’ve been waiting for hours. What happened up there?”
Captain Rousseau entered with his first mate at his side. Removing his bicorne hat, the captain set it upon his desk and sank into the chair with a sigh. “Merci à dieu, I thought that would never end.”
“Again, any information would be useful,” Talon growled.
Talia rested her hand on Talon’s arm. “Really, Jean-Jacques, we’ve been worried sick. You had to use your cannons. I’ve never known you to do that.”
The old man grinned. “No worries, ma petite, the old girl never gave us any concerns. She started shooting from the get-go, so we fired back, trying to evade as best we could. We turned the Runner about, and when the other ship closed in on us, we released the hooks and took down her sails.” Rousseau laughed. “Never saw it coming. The captain gave up without a fight. I bet he didn’t think we’d have such good fire power.”
Talon stepped forward. “Was it Perez?”
Stroking his beard, Rousseau eyed them, settling his gaze on Talia. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “It was La Dame de La Mer.”
The color drained from Talia’s face. Her eyes went wide as she stared at Rousseau. “Pardon?”
Rousseau sighed. “You heard correctly. He’s being held in the brig. He turned himself in without a fight. Truth be told, it didn’t seem like his heart was in it. But he knew you were aboard.”
“Non! He would never betray me. We’ve been friends for years.”
“Apparently, your friend will do anything for a price,” Rousseau said dryly. “Not that I’d expect anything less from a Lafitte.”
Crossing her arms, Talia jutted her chin out and shook her head. “He wouldn’t. I know my father hates Alex, but still, he’s my—”
Jealousy sparked a fire deep within Talon’s soul. Clenching his fists, he barged toward her. “Lafitte? The bloke you were speaking of earlier?”
“Oui.” She waved her hand and began to pace the room, apparently occupied with other thoughts.
Anger poured through Talon’s veins. “And he attempted to capture you? I thought he loved you.”
Flecks of green ignited in her eyes and a crimson flush stained her cheeks. She bit out, “Your pettiness isn’t needed, Monsieur.” She turned to the captain. “Jean-Jacques, I need to speak with Alex.”
Rousseau shook his head. “Non, ma petite, it isn’t safe.”
“Perhaps it isn’t what we think. Mayhap he came to rescue me.”
Talon barked a laugh. “Are you really that dense?”
With a frosty glare, Talia placed her hands on her hips. “Do you mind?” Grabbing Rousseau’s, hands, she pleaded with him. “I’m begging you, Jean-Jacques. You said he surrendered easily.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow it. We’ve captured the Spaniards as well, along with a ship full of slaves and sailors. Some of my crew will be sailing his ship back to Martinique to await extradition.”
Tears pooled at Talia’s eyelashes. “I can’t believe it. Alex Lafitte betrayed me?”
Guilt conquered jealousy as Talon sighed. “Captain, perhaps I should escort Talia to her cabin. We’ve had a rather trying day.”
As she attempted to protest, Rousseau wrapped his arms around her. “Monsieur Barberry is right. Rest. Have a good meal. Tomorrow, we will decide what to do with Lafitte.”
“D’accord, Jean-Jacques. Merci.” She kissed his fuzzy cheek and followed Talon out the door.
TALON WAS EMOTIONALLY exhausted. Recalling the activity of the day, he couldn’t help but wonder how Talia was faring.
His heart ached as remorse and jealousy battled for his soul. He wanted to go to her and hold her, but she seemed too concerned about the deception of the Lafitte fellow. It was all too familiar to Talon. He couldn’t wait for some woman to make up her m
ind. He’d done that with Lina, and there was no way he’d do it again.
To make it worse, Perez and Vargas were sitting two decks below him in the pen. “Bastards. I’d love to give Alberto a kick in the arse.”
As he squirmed in his hammock, a high-pitched squeak emanated from the corner of the sailors’ bunks. He frowned. Most of the crew were still at dinner, although a few sailors had returned.
Again, a tiny peep like the sound of a rat reverberated just behind him. Talon shuddered against the net. “Just what we bloody need... a ship riddled with more vermin than we already have.”
The animal squealed intermittently, as if taunting him. Pulling his knife from his boot, he rose quietly so as not to attract attention. Crouching low, he tracked it slowly, listening for its movements. The creature was moving. Keeping a focused vigil, he followed it.
Several sailors burst through the doors, boasting loudly about their adventure at sea. Standing, Talon leaned against the doorway and gazed out the porthole. The men settled into their hammocks without minding him.
Waiting a few more moments, Talon closed his eyes and listened. Nothing. The animal must have scurried off. Sheathing his knife, he started back toward his hammock.
“Squeak!”
“Damnit.” Talon shoved through the door and into the hallway toward the staircase. “I’m going to skin your tiny hide.”
He halted. Something was crawling up the back of his leg. His heart battered his chest like a drunken boxer as it grabbed his trousers and tugged.
He ripped his knife from his boot. “What in the world—”
“Stop, Massa Talon!”
“Dear God. Marcus?” Indeed, cowering in front of him was the little slave boy he’d taken under his wing aboard the Nueva Linda. Talon grabbed the lad, squeezing him in a bear hug. “I can’t believe it. How? What in the hell are you doing here?” He glanced around, pulling the boy into the corner where several crates of fresh fruit were stashed. He looked him over quickly. “Are you hurt?”
Marcus shook his head, a grin plastered across his face. “No, sah, I’s fine. Perez done gave me to Massa Lafitte. He don’ pay no attention neither, but he ain’t as bad as Perez.”
“How the hell did you get on board?”
Marcus shrugged. “I’s little. They was dealin’ with Massa Lafitte. They didn’t notice a thing.”
Talon embraced him once more. This child was a survivor. “I felt terrible leaving you with them in the first place.”
“Don’ worry ’bout me, sah.”
“Indeed,” Talon chided him. “You hide in the shadows.”
The boy’s grin faded. “I’s been followin’ Perez an’ Vargas. You and Miss Talia be in danger, sah. They’s planned on takin ’ the Miss from the beginning.”
Talon sighed. “We know. I think we figured it out.”
“No, sah, it be worse,” Marcus insisted. “The Frenchy in charge be on his way to N’awlins to start a riot at Miss Talia’s home.”
Talon frowned. “You mean DuPont?”
Marcus scoffed. “Not that Pont guy. Massa Lafitte threw him overboard for bein’ cheeky. They’s call the Frenchy Archambo or somethin’ like that.”
Talon stroked his beard. How many were involved in this plan? He glanced into the galley. The sailors were still filling their plates and talking about the day. Talon took Marcus by the shoulders. “We need to find Miss Talia. Can you do that? She’s in a guest cabin on the captain’s deck.”
Marcus nodded exuberantly. “’Course sah. I’s bring her to you. What are you gonna do?”
“I’m going to the brig to have a little chat with our prisoners.”
As Marcus snuck up the stairs, Talon sank against the wall. Thank God the boy was alive. He’d never been so happy to see someone in his life. Taking a deep breath, he muttered, “Focus, mate. This isn’t over yet.”
He gathered his hat from his personal effects before setting off for the brig. Thankfully, it was easier to move about the Winged Runner since he was a true guest. Following the long corridors from deck to deck, he found the stairway that led to the hold of the ship.
Creeping quietly to the bottom landing, he peered around the corner. In between barrels filled with grain and foodstuffs, two iron pens were situated at the starboard bow. A sailor dozed nearby in a rickety chair with his feet cocked up on the bars, the keys dangling from his hands.
Slinking closer, Talon hid behind one of the crates and scanned the hold. One pen held the Spaniards. Perez looked peaked, his eyelashes fluttering as he swayed on his feet. Vargas was snoring on the ground, his back to the bars. Much to Talon’s chagrin, neither man was shackled.
Is it too much to ask?
The man in the other hold sauntered toward the bars. Brushing his curly brown hair from his eyes, he hissed, “You gamin. Tell the captain I wish to speak to Talia Montrose. We work together.” The guard barely acknowledged him.
This is the infamous Mr. Lafitte?
Shifting his stance, Talon crouched lower. The whelp hardly looked a day over five and twenty. His hazel eyes darted around the holding area suspiciously. His haggard clothing hung off his body in strips, as if he’d been in a knife fight. What in the world did Talia see in a man-child like this?
“Excusez-moi!”
The sailor kicked the gate and barked, “Shut it, ye filthy pirate!”
Lafitte gave his gaoler a brooding stare, and Talon scoffed. He knew that look—he’d been young once. In a way, Lafitte reminded him of himself at that age. Gripping the cold wood, he pressed his fingers to his temples.
That’s an uncomfortable thought.
As the waves lapped against the hull, the sailor guarding the prisoners drifted off again, snoring. Or perhaps it was Vargas.
Squaring his shoulders, Talon slipped from the shadows, walking toward the guard with a spring in his step. He kicked the iron, and the guard jolted awake with a grunt.
Talon cleared his throat. “Cheerio, my good chap. Care to join the crew for dinner this evening?”
Startled, the sailor placed his feet on the ground with a sleepy gaze. “Ye daft, man? My replacement ain’ here.”
“I wouldn’t mind helping out a bit. You and your fellow mates helped us out of a sticky situation today, so I’d be more than happy to take watch for you.”
Talon tipped his hat as Lafitte crossed his arms and squinted at him. To give the man-child credit, at least he didn’t rat Talon out. Perez’s eyes widened, apparently trying to protest, but Lafitte pounded on the man’s back. Perez coughed in his hand.
The sailor glanced at his pocket watch and sighed. “I don’ know. Captain said the pris’nors ain’t allowed to have visitors.”
Talon rolled his eyes. “I’m not visiting with them, man. I don’t even know them. I just thought you’d fancy a bite before the stew gets cold.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his belly. “Mmm, it was delicious. One of Cookie’s best, I dare say. And the biscuits?”
Smacking his lips, the sailor vacated his chair. Stretching his arms above his head, he handed over the keys. “No harm in it I s’pose. Thanks, mate. Michel will be ’ere at eight to take over.”
Patting him on the shoulder, Talon smiled. “Anytime, my good man.” As the sailor disappeared up the stairway, he turned and glared at their captives. Removing his knife from his boot, he marched toward Perez and positioned the blade in front of the iron bars.
Watching them intently, Lafitte laughed. “The Spaniard’s reputation precedes him, oui?
Plastering himself against the back of the pen, Perez whimpered. “No, Señor, it wasn’t me! It was Alberto. He beat you and left you for dead!”
Talon growled, “Too right, mate—but I’ll never forgive you for hurting Talia. Let’s see how much pain you can handle.”
Lafitte’s jaw clenched and he grabbed Perez by his shirtfront. “Merde! What did you do to her?”
“Non, stop!” Talia jumped from the shadows.
A childlike grin spread across La
fitte’s face as he released Perez and pushed to the bars. “Talia? Merci à dieu!”
As she marched toward them, Talon glared at her. “How long have you been there? Marcus was supposed to bring you to the bunks.”
Her brow furrowed. “Marcus is on board? I haven’t seen him.”
Rage muddled Talon’s blood like a rogue stallion as Talia threw a sultry look at Lafitte. Talon stepped in front of her. “What are you doing here, Mademoiselle?”
“I have to talk to Alex.”
Pulling her out of earshot of the prisoners, he whispered vehemently, “Why? So you can free the lout?” Talon stood akimbo in front of the door to block her way. “Rousseau is right. There’s something sinister going on... more than either of us realize. Ask Marcus. He’s been tailing Perez and Lafitte for days.”
Holding her head high, she folded her arms and sighed. “Very well. We’ll talk to the boy. But I need to speak with Alex first.”
Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Rousseau said no for a reason, Talia. Don’t push it.”
She placed a hand on his arm. Her forehead puckered and her eyes glistened with tears. “Wouldn’t you want to know why your friend betrayed you?”
Clenching his fists, he turned and glowered at Lafitte. The man’s smirk was infuriating. With a sigh, he raked his fingers through his hair and stepped aside. “Fine, but I’m not leaving you alone with him.” As Talia opened her mouth to protest, Talon crossed his arms with a stubborn tilt of his chin. “Your aunt hired me to protect you, and that’s what I’m going to do, woman. I will stand guard as you talk. Do it quickly.” Rolling her eyes skyward, Talia pushed past him.
Lafitte stood at the bars in his bare feet as they approached. “Talia, ma cherie. So glad you could visit me in the brig.” He issued her a cheeky grin, uncovering a row of perfectly white teeth.
Swinging her hips seductively, Talia strode toward him. “If it isn’t my good friend Alex Lafitte.” Her gaze turned to stone as she grabbed his hands through the bars.
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