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AUGUST 8, 1798
Somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean
Talon lay in his hammock in the crew’s quarters, gazing up at the wooden beams on the ceiling. They’d left port a sennight ago, but he was bored out of his mind sailing across the sea.
The crew occasionally asked him to join a game of cards, but he refused. He needed to explore his surroundings, but Alberto had urged him to stay put else he risk exposing the real purpose of their mission.
And he had yet to meet the elusive Miss Aringosa.
His blood pulsed through his veins like an irritating itch he couldn’t scratch. If he was going to kidnap the Aringosa chit, he needed to know how best to accomplish it. Granted, they still had six weeks of ahead of them, and Alberto had promised to arrange dinner with her in due time.
Be patient, Señor.
As Alberto’s pleas infiltrated Talon’s thoughts, he smirked. When had he ever been reasonable? He’d be lucky if he didn’t start a brawl just for laughs. Turning in his hammock, he wriggled against the threadbare blanket. “I wish the bugger would hurry. I’m going bloody crazy staring at nothing night after night.”
“Psst, Massa Talon!”
Talon chuckled as the captain’s deckhand, a little Black boy no older than ten, peered up at him from the shadows. “I can see you, Marcus. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
The lad was an amicable child with a broad smile and an insatiable appetite for knowledge. He often visited Talon in the evenings to keep him company. They’d lapsed into a first-name basis almost immediately. It was nice to have a friend aboard the ship.
Climbing out from under the hammocks, the boy clutched his torso. “I’s couldn’t sleep. This here wooden beas’ make mah belly churn.”
“I thought you’d be used to it by now.”
The boy wrinkled his nose. “No, sah. Cain’t keep suppa down mos’ nights.”
Placing his hands on the back of his head, Talon leaned back in his hammock. “And where are you off to this evening?” Since he’d told Marcus about his exploits in France, the boy was obsessed with espionage. He usually informed Talon of his secret plans before he attempted them.
“I’s sneakin’ to the cargo hold. They’s got the new bondsmen there.”
Talon scowled. He knew all too well they were transporting a load of slaves to the New World. The haunting sound of whips and screams often ricocheted off the beams of the bulkhead. As the small children cried, the slavers punished their mothers to quiet them. Talon stuck pieces of hardtack in his ears to muffle the horror most nights.
He swallowed the bile churning at the back of his throat. Of all the ideas the people of the new world came up with, slavery was the worst. What was wrong with man? Why treat human beings like animals? It was difficult to turn a blind eye to it while the brutality literally sat beneath his feet.
Unfortunately, his little friend had suffered, too.
Rolling over, Talon gave Marcus his full attention. The boy’s body, his skin as black as the night sky, showed obvious signs of starvation. His long, lanky legs and knobby knees knocked together bone to bone as his ribs pushed through his chest. With every visit, his soulful brown eyes tore at Talon’s heart.
But the lad was up and energetic at midnight. That’s more than he could say for himself. “What will the captain say if he sees you out of bed?”
The boy pulled a blanket over his shoulders and grinned. “They’s can’t see me, Massa Talon. I hides in the shadows.”
“Aye, I suppose you do.” Feeling adventurous, Talon climbed out of his hammock and donned his hat hanging on the hook beside his bunk. “Perhaps I’ll join you this evening.”
“Yes, sah. But quiet, Massa Talon. You’s so big, you make too much noise.” Arching an eyebrow, Talon silenced him with a finger on his lips, and they snuck toward the door so as not to disturb the rest of the sleeping sailors.
The ship lurched to and fro as the dog watch on the top decks called out their status. Talon and Marcus approached the staircase that led to the lower decks just as the midship watch ascended from below.
Ducking into the shadows of the overhead beams, Marcus motioned for Talon to find a place to hide. Winking, Talon quickly concealed himself behind a wooden beam on the other side of the boy. Fortunately, the seaman walked past them without any indication he’d seen them.
Talon grinned as the lad silently whooped in triumph. He held a finger to his lips. “Don’t celebrate yet, lad.”
Peering down the hallway, they descended the creaky wooden stairs as quietly as they could. Making their way through the galley, Talon nicked a piece of dried salt pork from the cupboards and handed a slice to Marcus.
The young ones wailed from the bowls of the ship. The crack of the slave driver’s whip pierced the air, and one of the girls yelped in pain. They were close. With haste, Talon followed Marcus to the galley stairwell to get a better look.
At the last rung, the pungent smell of urine and feces hit him square in the face. He gagged. Slapping his little hand over Talon’s mouth, Marcus glared at him. Talon shook off the urge to vomit. Wasn’t he the one who had volunteered to go with the boy?
Marcus pulled on his sleeve. “Come on, Massa Talon.”
Without a sound, he followed his sidekick to the nearest corner of the hold. The ship’s stores were stacked to the ceiling, and they crouched behind the crates quietly to observe.
Talon gasped. “Bloody hell, look at all of them.”
Disgust and pity warred for dominance as his stomach churned. As meager as his existence had been, it was palatial compared to this squalor.
The poor women were chained as close together as possible, manacled to their neighbors at the ankles. A wooden bucket covered in feces and urine sat between every other slave. The floor surrounding them was caked in muck as nobody had bothered dumping the waste.
Worse, the women had naught but a central water vessel to share. Flies landed everywhere... on the buckets, the water, and the slaves. The little ones waved the pests away in their sleep.
Bile gurgled in Talon’s throat. Surely, nobody would drink such polluted filth. Unfortunately, these people had no choice in order to survive—if they didn’t get dysentery from the taint.
His lip curled up “There must be fifty women here.”
“This ain’t a big load, eitha’. They’s sometimes carry more than a hundred slaves aboard this ship. An’ there be only women and chillen’, no men.”
Scanning the hold, Talon frowned. “Is that typical?”
Marcus shrugged. “Depends. These gals are prol’ly goin’ to the brothels.”
Pulling on Talon’s shirt, Marcus shushed him quickly. A crewman dropped off the ladder at the entrance to the hold, his boots thumping loudly upon the wooden floor as he approached the sailor with the whip.
Speaking swiftly in Spanish, the man handed his comrade his crop and surveyed the women shackled together. Licking his lips, he motioned to a light-skinned girl no more than sixteen. He cricked his finger with an indecent leer.
The hair on the back of Talon’s neck prickled. He couldn’t understand the man’s vernacular, but the meaning was all too clear. Apparently, the girl understood as well. The whites of her wide eyes gleamed as she shook her head vehemently. When the sailor grabbed her shackled wrists and hauled her across the floor, she struggled in protest.
Clenching his fists, Talon hissed. “Where’s he taking her?”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “To his bunk, where yeh’s think? That happens a lot with the gals, ’specially the pretty ones.”
Talon stared at the ten-year-old incredulously. The child was worldlier than he was, for certain.
“Alto, Señor!”
A loud thud at the threshold caught their attention. As a sensuous voice echoed off the crates in the hold, the lovely Miss Aringosa announced her presence with a regal flair. Talon crouched lower, his heart pounding. Wearing leather breeches and a white flowing blouse like some pirate wench, she stood in the doorway with her fists on her curvy hips. Her brown leather boots hugged her toned calves tightly to her knees.
Playing with a ringlet of her hair, the beauty gave the sailors a sensual smile. With grace and finesse, she sauntered across the hold.
The woman had tenacity, to be sure. Shifting on his haunches, Talon tipped up the brim of his hat and eyed her suspiciously. For the millionth time during this journey, something peculiar nagged at him like a splinter festering in his thumb.
His first impression of Miss Aringosa had been off. She wasn’t just some rich Spanish debutante. She obviously knew how to take care of herself. In fact, he’d wager five hundred pounds the woman wasn’t what she seemed. Aye, he could live a good life on his wages doubled.
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 his 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.
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