Pure Temptation

by Auria Jourdain

  Nodding, Talon ruffled Arden’s hair. “Take care of your mother and sister.”

  Arden gave him a toothy grin. “Aye, sir!”

  As he strolled down the gangplank, he met Fitz at the shore. Glancing at Lina, he gave the man a lopsided grin. “Take good care of her, chap. She’s like a sister to me.”

  Fitzpatrick glanced up at her, his eyes softening. “Aye, Barberry, have no fear. I’ll take good care of her and her children.”

  Talon grinned. “Thank you, my friend.”

  As he and Marcus disembarked, he gave Lina a wave and rested a hand on his young ward’s shoulder. “Come, lad. We need to find a place to stay.”

  “Follow me, Barberry.” Rousseau slapped him on the back amicably. “I know the perfect place. Cozy establishment called The Lucky Lady on Rue Bourbon.”

  Talon halted his steps. “Where the hell are you going, Rousseau?”

  “With you. You can’t face this L’Archambeau by yourself, mon ami.” As Talon began to protest, Rousseau cut him off. “Fernando Montrose is a good family friend, as is his daughter. I want to be sure they are both safe.”

  “What of Perez and Vargas?”

  “Fitz will sail them to Martinique for their just punishment.” He chuckled. “I hear indentured servitude in the colonies is quite popular.”

  Talon stifled a smile. “And your wife?”

  “Patrice is with our daughter and new grandson. She’ll be gone for months.” Donning his hat, Rousseau bowed. “I am at your service, Monsieur. It is a pleasure to introduce you to this glorious city.”

  Following Jean-Jacques, Talon traversed the bricked streets and absorbed everything in a daze. Saloons lined the way, the din escalating as people strolled the busy thoroughfare.

  They approached a vast square graced by a white church topped with a golden cross and flanked on either side by wrought iron. People of all colors walked amongst each other, nattily dressed in their finest.

  “This is quite a sight compared to the islands,” Talon said.

  Rousseau nodded. “The rebellions have forced the gens de couleurs refugees from Saint Domingue to the territories. They’ve influenced the culture here tremendously.”

  As Marcus caught up with them, Talon grabbed his hand. With the boisterous activity of the evening, he’d hardly noticed the child missing. “Where have you been? Don’t wander off. You could get lost in this crowd.”

  Handing a leaflet to the captain, Marcus caught his breath. “One of the coloreds gave me this. Wha’s it say?”

  “Les Societé des Amis.” Rousseau handed it to Talon. “The Society of Friends? Meeting held off site on Friday night.”

  Talon frowned. “Sounds like that extremist group DuPont led in Paris.” Talon stuck the flyer in his pocket. “This confirms Lafitte’s information. Off-sites could mean Temptation Hall. Maybe this L’Archambeau is here to start trouble.”

  Rousseau pulled his hat lower over his brow. “We’d better keep our heads clear. We need to get settled and find out more.”

  “Aye,” Talon muttered.

  They arrived at a lively salon three doors down from an empty blacksmith shop on Rue Bourbon. Common men were playing cards, swearing, drinking rum, and picking fights. Talon pulled Marcus closer. “Don’t run off.”

  They entered the establishment. Numerous women of ill-repute draped themselves over ruffians groping them provocatively. Scanning the crowd, Talon held his hands over Marcus’ eyes. “Jesus, what is this place?”

  Rousseau sighed. “Merde. Seems like it’s gone to the rabble.”

  “Hey, Mista.”

  Frowning, Talon gazed around, looking for the owner of the snide voice.

  “Yeah, you—the Spaniard with the colored boy.” The crowd went quiet.

  Talon whipped around. “Are you talking to me?” Every muscle in his neck tensed as Marcus cowered behind him.

  The barkeep sneered at him. “We don’ allow niggas in here.”

  Anger engulfed Talon like an incoming storm. Striding to bar, he wrapped his fingers around the lanky man’s throat and growled, “Care to say that again, mate?” The barkeep’s eyes bugged out grotesquely as he grasped Talon’s hands.

  Rousseau seized Talon’s shoulder. “Pardon mon ami, Monsieur, he’s had a long journey.”

  Releasing the man, Talon held Marcus at his side. “Indeed.”

  Coughing, the keep summoned a rough character from the balcony above. “Get out. We don’t serve your kind.”

  As the din of the crowd escalated, Talon clenched his fists, prepared for a fight. He’d had enough snobbery to last a lifetime.

  Suddenly, a screech filled the air. “No good gamin!”

  The patrons fell silent. A petite woman with strawberry blonde hair sauntered toward them in three-inch heels, heightening her presence amongst the rabble-rousers. A sapphire blue dress cut deeply down her bosom and high up her thigh accentuated her svelte figure. Her hips swung provocatively as she tossed them an alluring wink.

  With clenched fists, the bruiser started down the stairs, but the woman pointed at him. “Charlie, you sit.” She glared at the barman. “Tais toi, Percy. Captain Rousseau is a good friend of old Maude’s.”

  Talon nearly choked at her insinuation. Rousseau nudged him with a chuckle. “Isn’t this a grand city?”

  Her deep brown eyes sparkled as she stared at the patrons. Her porcelain skin stood out against the tanned plantation hands that littered the place, but she was clearly in control. Waving her hands dismissively, she barked, “Go back to your games. This is none of your business.”

  As the patrons returned to their boisterous merriment, Talon stifled a smile. “Indeed it is.”

  Draping an arm over the captain’s shoulder, she arched an eyebrow. “Bonjour, Jean-Jacques, good to see you again.” She spoke perfect English with just a hint of an accent. Her derriere rounded as she placed her long leg on the bar stool. Running her hand along her skin, she drew attention to the fancy stockings that barely covered her shapely calf. She pulled a silver flask from the lace garter attached to her thigh and took a sip with rosy red lips. “Haven’t seen you for a while.”

  Rousseau chuckled. “Maudy, you look magnifique, ma cherie. How long has it been?”

  Maude pouted prettily. “Too long, mon Captain. “You were always one of my favorites. You’ve been married for ages.” She leaned over, exposing the tops of her bosom as she traced a finger across his cheek. “Unfortunately, I haven’t persuaded you to stray.”

  Glancing down at her half-clad breasts, Rousseau’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Yet you’re still working hard to accomplish it, I see.”

  The woman leaned delicately on the counter. Kissing her fingertips, she placed her hand to her backside and winked. “What can I say? I have long legs and a derriere that won’t quit, Monsieur.” Giving him a cheeky grin, she patted him on the arm.

  Talon stifled a laugh. Never underestimate the power of a beautiful woman. Scratching his beard, he frowned. In fact, this woman’s antics were eerily reminiscent of Talia’s dramatic play.

  “Maudy, we need a place to stay for a few days. And we need to talk. Comprends-tu?” Rousseau issued her a somber look.

  The woman straightened her shoulders and gave him a firm nod. All business, she directed her attention to the barkeep. “Percy, show these fine gentlemen to my two best suites.”

  “But the nig—”

  Flaring her nostrils, Maude snatched a shot glass from the top of the counter and threw it across the bar. The glass shattered at the feet of a trapper, and once again, the entire establishment fell into a stony silence. “You good for nothing idiote. Do as I say. Now!”

  “Y-Yes, ma’am.” The foppish man jumped into action, his brown hair drooping comically in his face. “Come, sirs. The rooms are next door.”

  He led them through the kitchen doors and out the back alley to a courtyard littered with femme fatales of every color and their prospects of the night. Talon covered Marcus’ eyes.
Jesus, what had they gotten themselves into?

  They passed through an archway to the building next to the pub. An expansive courtyard encompassed several buildings. As they strolled through the magnificent gardens, flames from the lanterns flickered off the brick walls, highlighting the silhouettes of numerous lovers.

  “These residences are all hers?” Talon asked.

  Rousseau whispered, “Oui. Maude is one of the richest women in town. She owns several businesses, mostly along this street. Her husband was a successful shipping merchant until his death ten years ago. He made more money than Croesus on the seas.”

  Talon barked a laugh. “You mean he was a pirate like you.”

  Rousseau shook his head. “Non, Monsieur. We’re buccaneers, not pirates. There is a difference.”

  In name only.

  Talon let the comment die in his throat. “How did she acquire all of this?”

  “Maudy was left a sizeable fortune, and she invested it wisely. She is quite the entrepreneur. You’ll find women here are more free-spirited than in the European homelands.”

  Talon thought of Talia yet again, and his heart ached. “Aye, they’re more rambunctious, to be sure.”

  Percy led them into a building and up a small staircase to a hallway with four wooden doors marked with formal names. “Monsieur, you have La Vielle Dame and Captain, La Coquette.” Handing each of them a key, he gave Marcus a dirty look and turned quickly on his heels.

  Reading the small round plaques engraved with the French names, Talon grabbed the bags and unlocked the door. “Shall we, Marcus?” Upon entering the room, he set the key on a French bureau topped in solid marble. He blinked rapidly. “Blimey, this is a palace.”

  The papered walls in subtle blue and gold stripes broke at the top of the ceiling where ornate moldings rose another three inches. Like most of the fancy chambers he’d been in as of late, an ornate, crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Ornamental pillows and a dusty blue duvet adorned the hand-carved, mahogany four-poster bed.

  He strolled to the window to capture the view. A wrought-iron balcony ran the length of the whole building. Vines of tropical flowers wound their way around the posts, their heavy aroma wafting in the evening breeze. As the rowdy din of the patrons filtered through the streets, he smiled. It was hard to believe such lavish quarters existed near the lurid nightlife of the city.

  He sank into one of the chairs and extended the long arms. Propping up his feet, he leaned back to relax. “Feels good to be back on land, aye Marcus?”

  “Sho’ does, Massa Talon.” The boy abandoned his hiding place beyond the drapes to help him remove his boots.

  Talon rubbed the child’s head affectionately. “You don’t have to do that, lad. You can keep up pretenses in front of others if you must, but to me, you’re my boy. My equal.” Marcus’ eyes wandered to the window, and Talon laughed. “Go. Enjoy the fresh air.”

  Grinning, the boy scrambled to the balcony as Talon kicked his boots to the floor. Upon hearing a knock at the door, he groaned.

  “Barberry, Maude will meet us downstairs in a few minutes,” Rousseau called from beyond the door.

  With a heavy sigh, Talon slipped his boots back on his aching feet and stood. “I’ll be there soon. Marcus, stay here. I’ll find food. Don’t wander off.”

  “Yes, sah.”

  “Merci, Monsieur. Would you care for a drink?”

  As Talon settled back on a tufted settee in a large library on the first floor of the Frenchwoman’s suites, he rubbed his eyes, exhausted. Hopefully, this meeting would be short and sweet. “Anything but rum, Madame.”

  Maude’s melodious laugh tinkled like the fine crystal on her cart. “Not everyone takes a liking to the demon water.”

  Talon grinned. “I can’t say I acquired the taste. I’ll have whiskey if you please.”

  Tending a small bar well-stocked with various liquors, Maude handed him a shot. She poured Rousseau a snifter of brandy. “Still your choice, mon Capitain?”

  “Oui, merci beaucoup.” Rousseau settled into a nearby chair with his drink.

  “And a cognac pour moi.” Sitting opposite them, Maude crossed her legs. “What can I do for you fine gentlemen this evening?” Their hostess had changed into a more modest dress. While the garment wasn’t cut as low as the previous one, it still showed plenty of her attributes.

  Rousseau smacked his lips. “This is my good friend, Talon Barberry, and we are on a mission, to say the least.”

  Maude’s dark eyes glimmered. “How interesting. You need a woman perhaps?”

  Talon squirmed in his seat, but Rousseau came straight to the point. “We’re looking for Talia.”

  Maude’s smile disappeared “I haven’t seen her since she left the city with Ricardo and Carina.”

  Rousseau sat forward. “It’s important, Maudy. We think she’s in danger.”

  “Sacre bleu.” Her forehead puckered as she stared at them intently. Gulping her drink, she licked her lips. “I truly don’t know where she is, Jean-Jacques. What has happened?”

  Talon’s nerves had been on end for nigh on six weeks. The look of fear plastered across the woman’s face didn’t assuage his feelings. “Miss Montrose and I were partners until recently when we lost each other at sea.”

  Her eyes widened. “I had no idea she was on a mission,” she stammered. “Ricardo and Carina returned from London a sennight past, but he never mentioned any wrongdoing.”

  “What did Mr. Aringosa say?” Talon asked.

  She rose and paced the marble floor. “Nothing out of the ordinary. He mentioned Carina’s lovely wedding. She and her new husband will sail for Guadeloupe on holiday.”

  Rousseau stroked his beard and sighed. “Talia will be happy to know Mademoiselle Aringosa is safe.” Sitting forward, he eyed the Frenchwoman. “We need your help. Have you heard of any uprisings in New Orleans? We have reason to believe Ricardo is involved in something sinister.”

  “Dieu, of course not,” she snapped. “Why would Ricardo rouse trouble in his own city? He’s the governor.”

  Rousseau set his drink on the table and squinted at her. “You know him better than most.”

  “What is your relationship with Talia, Madame?” Talon asked.

  Maude folded her hands in her lap and sighed. “She and I worked together. We often scouted the parties of New Orleans for Ricardo, but with her gone, I’ve been working double time.” Glancing at Rousseau, she released a weary sigh. “A sennight past, Ricardo told me I had one last assignment. He paid me my sum and took his leave, promising to return in a few days.”

  “What was the job?”

  “To follow Monsieur Montrose to the Harvest Masque and listen in on a meeting with some diplomat from Paris.”

  Talon glanced at Rousseau. Their Frenchman, perhaps? “What else?”

  She shrugged. “I was supposed to follow Monsieur Montrose closely.”

  Rousseau hummed. “Did the Parisian say anything of import?”

  “I never saw the man. Unfortunately, Montrose is smarter than most. He lost me before he met his guest. Ricardo wasn’t happy.”

  “We were given this parchment this evening.” Talon handed Maude the flyer. “Does this mean anything to you?”

  Perusing it quickly, she frowned. “I have heard nothing of this. Surely, you don’t think Ricardo planned such a rabble. Why would he sanction this?”

  Rousseau sighed. “We don’t know. But Aringosa arranged Talia’s mission. Surely, you know why.”

  “Non, I do not.” She lowered her voice. “I care about Talia, c’est vrai. But business is business, mon capitain. Ricardo has his ways. If I want to keep my establishment, I have to follow his rules.”

  Rousseau eyed Maude carefully. “We think the Lafitte family is involved.”

  Her eyes snapped open. “What?”

  “Oui. Talia is with one of them right now.”

  Her eyes darted to Talon, and he cleared his throat. “It’s true. Talia and I were suppo
sed to leave for New Orleans together, but she left us in Guadeloupe and sailed here with Alex Lafitte. By choice or by force, we know not.”

  Maude shook her head with a laugh. “Monsieur Lafitte abducted Talia? It doesn’t make sense. He works for Ricardo, too. Alex and Talia were partners.”

  Rousseau held up his palm. “Most likely, Talia left of her own free will. But Lafitte gave us some interesting information before they left. He said a Frenchman plans on taking Temptation Hall.”

  Maude snorted. “Preposterous. Monsieur Montrose would never allow it. He’s invested too much! He’d protect that plantation with his dying—” Maude swept a hand over her forehead. “Mon dieu!”

  “You see how dire the situation is,” Rousseau said. “This Frenchman might be using Talia as bait to force Montrose’s hand. And we think Aringosa is the middleman.”

  Folding her arms beneath her bosom, Maude traversed the wooden floors, her heels clicking like a watched clock. “This is unbelievable. Ricardo would never involve himself in such common antics. He always sends someone else to do the dirty work.”

  Dread churned in the pit of Talon’s stomach. Mayhap Talia was in more danger than he thought. He took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. Talia believes Aringosa devised the whole thing.”

  Rousseau gave Maude a hard look. “We need to know what Ricardo has planned. Can you listen about town the next few days? You have more contacts here than we do.” He tapped the handbill. “Barberry and I have to focus on this angle. This L’Archambeau is involved with this group, and he’s stirring slave rebellions on the islands. He might be aiding Aringosa.”

  Sliding him a glance, Maude twirled a stray curl around her finger. “Let me talk to Ricardo. There has to be a good explanation for this.”

  Rousseau arched an eyebrow. “We aren’t sure what his role is, Maudy. He might be dangerous.” He clutched her hands. “I’m begging you to heed caution. For Talia’s sake.”

  Closing her eyes, she sighed. “Bon. I’ll do as you say.”