Pure Temptation

by Auria Jourdain

  As the arrogant waitstaff descended the staircase at the end of the hall, he beckoned Alex to join him. “Monsieur Lafitte? Colonel DuPont will see you.”

  Alex released a breath and hardened his resolve. He had to make this look convincing. He’d donned his bedraggled clothing for that reason. Brushing the dirt from his overcoat, he swept a hand over his bruised face and gave the man a curt nod.

  The gentleman escorted Alex through a pair of double doors. DuPont sat at a long, mahogany library table, buried in papers. His formal wig and overcoat were thrown haphazardly over a chair. Hunched over his desk, the man appeared frazzled.

  “You’ve returned to Guadeloupe safely, it seems. Pray tell, did you find Mademoiselle Montrose?” DuPont spoke without looking up from his work.

  Taking a deep breath, Alex traversed the length of the room with long strides. Halting at DuPont’s armchair, he towered over the man with a menacing glare. “Is that all you have to say for yourself, Monsieur?”

  Removing his spectacles from his nose, DuPont gazed up at him with wide eyes. Pushing his chair out, he stood. “Sacre bleu, what has happened to you? And where is Pierre?”

  Folding his arms, Alex stood toe to toe with DuPont. “I threw your scheming son off my ship in Martinique because he was a pain in the hindquarters. As to the state of my appearance, I was captured by pirates and barely escaped with my life!” Slamming his fist on the table, Alex snarled in dramatic fashion. “Where is L’Archambeau? I’m tired of dealing with his lackey. I should be talking to him about this nonsense.”

  DuPont peered down his nose at Lafitte and sniffed. “L’Archambeau left three days past for Nouvelle Orleans. We are supposed to meet him there with Mademoiselle Montrose, although it looks like he will be sorely disappointed. Where is our prize and her faithful sidekick?”

  Alex plopped in one of the chairs and kicked his dirty boots upon the colonel’s workspace. He sat back with his hands behind his head, eyeing DuPont suspiciously. “That, mon ami, is what I would like to know. I don’t know what game it is you play, but I assure you my cousins will hear of your deception.”

  The man pulled at the collar of his shirt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We told you when and where Jonathan Taylor’s ships were due to sail.”

  The man jumped back as Alex lurched forward. “Oui, but you didn’t inform me that those Spanish imbéciles had their own motives—and a new plan to boot.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Perez and Vargas. Their Spanish amigos were waiting for us in a cove outside of St. Pierre. We had Mademoiselle Montrose and her bodyguard in our hands until the filthy pirates climbed aboard. Perez shot Barberry and tossed him into the sea. Then he and Vargas sailed away with my crew and Mademoiselle Montrose, throwing me off halfway to Guadeloupe.”

  DuPont sat back, his mouth gaping as he stared at Alex incredulously. “How in God’s name did you make it here?”

  Alex growled, “I swam, damn you. Fortunately, neither Perez nor Vargas have a brain in their heads. I wasn’t far from one of the inlets. A fisherman found me.” Alex stood slowly, clenching his fists as his knuckles cracked. “Now, are you going to give me the whole story or am I going to have to beat you within an inch of your life for deceiving me?”

  Shaking his head, DuPont rubbed his temples. “I never anticipated those two idiots would double-cross L’Archambeau. This certainly wasn’t part of our plan. Perez and Vargas must be acting of their own accord.”

  “What exactly is the plan? If I’m going to get paid for kidnapping Mademoiselle Montrose, I want the whole story.”

  DuPont sighed and sank into his chair. “L’Archambeau has been stoking our Jacobin movement in the colonies. Not long ago, he instigated the slave riots in Guadeloupe. Our goal is to help General Napoleon win back the colonies in the new world with an army of rebel slaves, and New Orleans is our new target.”

  Alex frowned. “L’Archambeau said he wanted to use Talia as a bargaining chip for her family’s plantation. From what I hear, New Orleans is full of French dissidents that would love to help his cause. Why does he want Temptation Hall?”

  “Its position on the river is perfect. Apparently, General Bonaparte intends to invade the mainland and take back what is rightfully ours. According to his contact, Temptation Hall has easy access to the Mississippi River. The land is the largest in the Territories. And apparently, Montrose has the most slaves on the banks.”

  Alex threw his hands up in mock exasperation. “So L’Archambeau plans on stirring up a revolt at the Montrose home? Who is this man that thinks he has enough power to take New Orleans? Do you know him personally?”

  “Only through business dealings. He’s an advocate who settles the affairs of noblemen throughout France and her colonies. He claims he has General Bonaparte’s ear and that his orders come directly from him.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  A look of defeat crossed DuPont’s face. “Who’s to say? Our momentum in Paris is lost. We were elated someone had interest in our cause.”

  Alex shook his head. “Perez and Vargas are probably halfway to Saint-Domingue with Talia, and her bodyguard is dead. What do you suggest I do?”

  DuPont thick brows shot up in surprise. “You still wish to continue?”

  “Bien sûr. That money will set me for life! As you know, the Lafittes are trying to acquire new business ventures.”

  DuPont stared at Alex for a moment. Pressing his lips together, he nodded. “D’accord. I will write L’Archambeau a hasty post explaining our situation. I suggest you sail to New Orleans and meet him there. Do you have a ship?”

  Stroking his chin, Alex hummed. “Non, but I can find one. However, I am not cleared to sail these waters. It would be infinitely easier if I had permission, especially after this recent escapade.”

  DuPont sighed. “Bon. I will give you your marque so you may travel without issue. Where are you staying? My courier will deliver it to you on the morrow.”

  Alex stood to leave. “The Brownstone Inn. Don’t be late, Monsieur. Most ships sail with the morning light.” He faced the man. “And just so you know... when I find Perez and Vargas, I will kill them.”

  Colonel DuPont saluted him with a smile. “You have my blessing, Monsieur.”

  Chapter 23

  AS THE SOUNDS OF BASSE Terre filtered through the open windows, Talon stretched his arms over his head. His little sidekick snored beside him. Talon rubbed Marcus’ head and stood.

  Making his way the bureau, he stared into the mirror. Lines snaked from his eyes, but he felt well rested after his short nap. He couldn’t wait to spoil Talia this evening. The landlady had agreed to arrange a romantic dinner for them in the small café next door.

  Raking his hand across his scruffy face, he looked at the clock. He could use a good scrubbing. Perhaps Talia was finished bathing. Slipping on his boots, he walked down the stairs to the find the innkeeper. He would need a proper shave and wash before dinner.

  “Mrs. Arnold?”

  Approaching the abandoned bar, he frowned. Weren’t there any other guests? Except for a loud ruckus in the kitchen, the place was deserted. He ventured through the double doors to investigate the cacophony.

  As he walked around the corner, a slight woman with long, dark hair bound back with a vibrant gold scarf slammed a pot onto the nearby butcher block and cursed.

  Talon cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Miss. I can’t find Mrs. Arnold. Do you know where she is?”

  The slight woman turned at the sound of his voice and wiped her hands upon her apron. “Nay, sir. She isn’t—”

  Talon’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, Lina?” He strode forward quickly.

  With wide eyes, she jumped behind the butcher block. “Pardon sir, do I know you?”

  Raising his palms in truce, he halted. “Lina, it’s me. Talon Barberry.”

  A gasp left her lips as clapped her hands over her mouth. She squinted at him. “Talon? Good lord, is
it really you?”

  Tears illuminated her brown eyes and she ran into his arms. He embraced her warmly. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

  She pulled away from him and frowned. “What are you doing here? You didn’t come all this way to find me, did you?”

  He chuckled. “Nay. I had no clue where you’d gone. I’m working. I had to stop for the evening.” He lifted her arms, examining her curves. It had been nigh on twelve years since he’d last seen her. “Blimey, you’re all grown up.”

  She laughed. “Aye, sir. You as well.” She turned him around, tousling the curls at the back of his head. “I hardly recognized you without your ponytail.” She touched his cheek. “But I see the boy I once knew. You’ve added some wrinkles.”

  Talon chuckled, fingering the wisps of gray escaping her scarf. “You have a few yourself. What are you doing here? You left England without a trace.”

  Sadness filtered through her dark eyes, replacing the smile on her face. “It’s a long story.”

  “Care to talk about it?”

  A few minutes later, they were sitting in the empty tavern. Lina had poured them each a cup of coffee. As he added two cubes of sugar, he sipped the black liquid and winced. “It’s been nigh on fifteen years. What happened to you? Where is your husband?”

  Lina shook her head, tears pooling at her eyelashes. “I have no clue where Robert is. The gadjo left me for another woman. We lived in London for a few years, but when we ran out of money, we sailed for the colonies. Somehow, we ended up here. He took work on a local plantation and I was hired as a lady’s maid. Our son and daughter were born a few years later.” She grunted. “Fatherhood wasn’t Robert’s cup of tea. He took up with the mistress of the house, and she threw me out. I haven’t heard from the bastard since.”

  Talon grabbed her hand from the table and squeezed it affectionately. “Lina, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s my fault.” Her bottom lip trembled as she brushed the moisture from her cheeks. “I should have stayed with my family. With you. You never would have shamed me so.” She gazed at him with soft brown eyes. “I hurt you, my friend. I’m sorry.”

  Cocking his head, he studied his former betrothed, attempting to find the lost feelings he’d once felt for her. There was nothing there. Despite the lines snaking out at her temples, she still had an innocent beauty. But the flutters of excitement that had accompanied any thoughts of her were gone... replaced by a green-eyed temptress with chestnut curls.

  Scratching his beard, he sat forward. The realization that he’d wasted years pining hit him over the head like a wooden beam. His feelings for Lina had been nothing but a child’s love. The earth-shattering emotions he had for Talia took his breath every time he looked at her.

  Grinning, he grasped Lina’s hands in his. “I forgive you. It was long time ago, and I’m getting along fine.”

  She took a sip of coffee. “Did you marry?”

  Talon shook his head. “I never did.”

  Her brown eyes widened. “Is that so? What does your father think of that?”

  “If it were up to him, I’d be the ideal son, like Carlos. Hitched with several kids and running the breeding program for our horses. But I’ve been preoccupied.” He spent the next hour regaling his tale of life during the revolution, his adventures with Contesse and Eric, and his trip across the sea with Talia.

  “La, you’ve been busy. And this girl?” She nudged him and winked. “You’ve mentioned her twice.”

  Shaking his head, Talon sighed. “It doesn’t matter. She isn’t Romani.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You know how it is.”

  She crinkled her nose and muttered, “Aye, unfortunately. Robert was a jackass to be sure. But I couldn’t stay in England. I had to get away from the pressure, the rules. I wanted to marry someone I loved, not—” Her eyes met his, and her mouth gaped.

  Talon squeezed her fingers. “We were young, Lina. I’m not holding any grudges or regrets. Papa let me go because I was dying inside. I had to find myself as well.”

  “Do you plan on settling down?”

  Glancing at his cup, he stirred the liquid absentmindedly. He wanted to profess his love for Talia, but he hadn’t been able to wrap his head around how to do it—not even within himself. “I have no clue what’s in store for me. Right now, I have a job to finish.”

  As Mrs. Arnold’s voice pierced the air, Lina stood and readjusted her apron with a sigh. “T’is wonderful to see you again. When do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow morning, early.”

  “I have dinner to prepare. We only have a few guests, but I’d like you to meet my children, Arden and Antonia.”

  “I promise I’ll say goodbye before we depart.” Pushing his chair back, Talon stood and embraced her. For the first time in many years, his heart felt light.

  TALIA SOAKED IN THE tub until nearly sundown. With a sigh of contentment, she took a deep breath, inhaling the bath salts that smelled like the sweet violets flourishing on the island. Reclining against the smooth copper, she embraced the welcome warmth.

  As the sun started to descend beneath the louvered window, she reluctantly left her haven. Patting herself dry with the linen cloths left on a chair near the tub, she tied the robe around her waist. A flush of excitement swept through her. It was her first official dinner with Talon. Tonight, she would preen herself to perfection.

  He won’t know what hit him.

  She hurried back to her room to prepare herself for a night of passion. As she rounded the corner and entered through the back door, voices echoed off the walls. Peering into the restaurant, Talia gasped. Talon sat at one of the tables, holding the hands of a handsome woman with a golden scarf tied around her head.

  Talia’s temples throbbed. Sacre bleu, who could he possibly know here? She hid behind the bar, unable to hear a word they said. However, when he stood and hugged the woman, a pang of jealousy pierced Talia’s heart.

  His friend was older with infinitely more curves than Talia had. Her long black hair was similar in color to his, and her eyes were a soft brown. His broad smile lit up the room as he squeezed the woman’s hand, as if he’d found something he’d missed.

  Talia’s heart shattered. Perhaps this was his long-lost love.

  Talon placed a hand on the woman’s cheek affectionately. As she pressed his forehead to his, he whispered something in her ear. When their moment ended, Talon ascended the stairs, whistling a jaunty tune. The woman returned to the kitchens.

  Sinking lower, Talia wrapped her arms around her knees. Pain gripped her chest as she swallowed the thickness settling her throat.

  She’d told Talon she loved him, but he hadn’t responded. He’d been withholding his feelings for so long. Was it because he still loved another? He’d been vague about the details of his betrothal. If this woman was his lost bride, it was obvious she still loved him.

  Anger tore through Talia as she swiped the tears from her eyes. How could she be so stupid? Ever since she’d seen Talon Barberry in the cargo hold, she’d wanted him. He’d been hesitant to have a physical relationship with her because of his strong sense of honor. She snorted. Guilt, more the like. He’d given in only because she’d offered herself to him like a fancy dinner.

  And she only had herself to blame. She’d given her heart to a man that loved another. And now she had to live with his rejection.

  Rising from the floor, she swept the dirt from her robe. “Zut, I don’t have time for this. I have to save my father.”

  Ascending the stairs to her room, she slammed the door and emptied the old carpet bag Talon had borrowed from Jean-Jacques. As his favorite hat tumbled from its depths, she held it to her nose, inhaling his virile scent.

  Placing it in the bag with her clothes, she penned a quick message and left it on the rustic night table. Donning Patrice’s old garb, she grabbed her things and hiked her skirts before walking out the door.

  Knocking on Alex’s door, she drew in a deep breath. As he opened the door and stared a
t her, she started to cry. Gathering her close, he kissed her forehead. “Come, ma cherie. I will take care of you.”

  She sobbed harder. To hell with Talon Barberry—he didn’t deserve her.

  “MARCUS, DID YOU FIND me a decent pair of breeches? These are so damn uncomfortable,” Talon grumbled, pulling at the fancy silk trousers Lord Taylor had given him. He wasn’t made to wear such frippery.

  “Yes, sah. You’s like wool, right? I’s had to borrow these from one of the coloreds.” The boy handed the black garment to Talon, shaking his head. “You’s gonna roast in ’dis heat, sah.”

  Talon slid his legs into the openings and drew them over his small clothes with a sigh of relief. “I don’t care. I can’t wear those confounded silk things.” He pulled a fancy blue cloth from Marcus’ shopping bag. “What the hell is this?”

  Marcus grinned. “Is a cravat, Massa Talon. You wanna look nice for the Miss, don’ ya?”

  Lifting his brow, Talon squinted at the boy. “Are you trying to play Cupid?”

  The boy cocked his head and frowned. “Who ’zat?”

  With a chuckle, Talon threw the tie aside. “Never mind. What else?”

  “New shoes.”

  Talon cringed as Marcus placed a pair of black buckled loafers in front of him. “Nay. I refuse to put those repulsive things on my feet. I won’t wear anything but my boots.”

  “But they’s look nasty, sah.”

  “My feet want comfort, that’s what they get.” Talon slipped his well-worn boots over his calves, giving Marcus a stern look. “What do you mean they look nasty? I buff the leather every night.”

  Marcus giggled. “Whateva’ Massa says.”

  Talon winked. “Where’s my lucky hat?” He wasn’t going to wear that white monstrosity tonight.

  The boy looked around and frowned. “Don’ know. Did you bring it?”

  “It’s probably with Talia’s things.” He tousled the boy’s head and opened the door. “Lafitte should be back soon. Sup with him and get a good night’s sleep. We’re leaving early tomorrow.”