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“I’M DISAPPOINTED IN you, Talia. How could you trust this scoundrel?”
As Captain Rousseau broke into Talia’s thoughts, she blinked rapidly, attempting calm before the tears fell. She’d spent the last hour devising a half-hearted plan with Alex and Jean-Jacques. Unfortunately, she could only think of Talon. It had taken all her emotional strength to concentrate on the mundane task at hand.
Right now, she wanted nothing more than to go to her cabin and cry. Apparently, Talon believed she’d chosen Alex over him. Couldn’t he see she’d already given him her heart and soul? That he thought she was somehow using him hurt beyond measure. She’d only released Alex because he’d met L’Archambeau in person and might know what the man was planning.
Glowering at Alex leaning against the bureau, Rousseau chewed on the end of his pipe. “Barberry is right—this won’t end well.”
Fighting back tears, Talia blew out a breath. The last thing she needed was to be chastised. “Papa’s in trouble. If what Alex says is true, this L’Archambeau is on his way to Temptation Hall to kill him. We can’t let them get there first. We need Alex’s expertise.”
Jean-Jacques sighed. “You are so young and naïve, ma cherie. What of your mother? Surely, they won’t kill Fernando while Monique is there, especially if they’re hiding behind these revolts.”
“Maman isn’t home. She sailed to Paris to visit my Aunt Hélène for the holidays. Apparently, she’s been quite lonely. Since Papa’s busy with the harvest, Maman thought it a good time to travel. A saving grace, I would say.”
“Perhaps.” Lifting an eyebrow, Captain Rousseau lit his pipe. He puffed pensively. “Has she ever ventured so far without your father?”
“Non, but again, it is harvest time. He had no choice but to stay and oversee the operations.”
Clearing his throat, Alex raked a hand through his hair. “Captain, how close are we to Guadeloupe?”
“Perhaps half a day.”
Turning to Talia, Alex rested his palms on Rousseau’s desk. “My orders were to take you to DuPont at the governor’s administrative office in Basse-Terre. From there, his son Pierre was supposed to sail with you to New Orleans.” His lips curved into a cheeky grin. “Fortunately, that gamin is no longer an issue. If we’re lucky, a shark took care of him for us.”
Talia tensed her shoulders. “What are you suggesting we do?”
Alex drew his brows together and rubbed his forehead. “We have to plan something convincing. DuPont doesn’t trust me. It’s only a matter of time before L’Archambeau discovers I’m working for Ricardo as well.”
Pushing his chair back, Rousseau stood. “When we get to Guadeloupe, we’ll room at the inn. Lafitte can inform this colonel that we’ve captured Talia Montrose and that we expect payment before we hand her over. Then, we’ll hand L’Archambeau to the authorities.”
Alex rolled his eyes heavenward. “Except DuPont is the ruling hand in Guadeloupe. He was sent there by the French government to clean up the mess of the slave rebellions.”
Rousseau sat back with a grimace. “Oui, that is a problem.”
Stifling a yawn, Talia rested her head on the desk. She was tired of this inane chatter. Right now, she needed to return to her quarters and bury herself under the covers. “Can’t we finish this plan in the morning?” She glanced at Alex. “Where will you sleep?”
Standing, the captain smoothed the lapels of his overcoat and glared at Alex. “Lafitte can bunk with the sailors like Monsieur Barberry—if the man doesn’t throttle you on sight. I don’t condone violence aboard my ship, but for you, Monsieur, I’d make an exception.”
Talia’s stomach churned as Alex forced a smile. She could see that fight coming a mile away. With a tip of his hat, he grabbed his rucksack and bid her good night.
As he walked out the door, Rousseau chuckled. “Mayhap I’ll follow him and see how this ends.”
Talia smiled. Alex had no idea how protective Talon could be, especially where she was concerned. Was it so terrible that she wanted that from Talon Barberry?
*****
RESTING IN THE BOTTOM hammock, Talon stared at the bulkhead, brooding once more. He wasn’t sure how everything was going to end, but one thing was certain. He needed to put Talia Montrose out of his mind and get his affairs in order.
As Marcus snored loudly above him, his heart swelled with love. Finding the boy had been the bright light in this disaster of a mission. Now that they’d been reunited, they could plan their lives accordingly. And he had every intention of making Marcus his son.
They could return to London. He’d find more permanent employment in the city, to be sure. But doing what? Unfortunately, his work had always been tied to the Romani way of life. All he knew were horses. And he wasn’t sure his family would accept his young ward.
Talon squirmed against the knotted ropes as a sudden dread infused his body. He didn’t want to go home. He hated city life... the rude people, the obnoxious smells, the noise. How would he survive?
Pushing himself up, he smiled. Perhaps they’d stay in the Americas, maybe travel to the northern states where Marcus could be free. Talon could buy a small place and raise his own stock with the wages Talia had promised him.
Talia Montrose.
He crossed his arms and sank into the netting, his mood darkening. The rich debutante had used her feminine wiles to get him into bed—ultimately, to use him. He was more than just angry. And hurt seemed too ordinary a word to describe the damage she’d done.
His heart was wounded beyond repair.
Not since Lina had he given himself so freely to a woman—for good reason. Once again, he’d let his guard down and opened himself to vulnerability. This time, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to fully heal. That she’d chosen an upstart like Alex Lafitte only drove the pain deeper.
The door to the bunkhouse swung open. “Speak of the devil,” Talon muttered. He slid a glare at Laffite as the weary man trudged forward.
Without glancing in his direction, Lafitte took an empty hammock near the port side of the bunk deck. Removing the ostentatious bicorne hat from his head, he placed it on a nearby hook. He unbuttoned his billowing shirt and fancy silk breeches and removed them accordingly. Fortunately, he turned over and quickly fell asleep.
Talon rubbed his temples as reality set in. Talia and Lafitte were cut from the same cloth. She came from a wealthy family of French and Spanish descent. Lafitte didn’t look like a pauper, to be sure. With his ties to the Territories, he was a more acceptable suitor for her.
Talon’s heart pounded mercilessly. The thought of her spending the rest of her life with that rake burrowed a six-foot hole through his insides. All that was left was a soul-deep ache that would surely be his undoing.
Gripping the sides of his hammock, he wrested over the edge and placed his feet on the floor. Fastening his boots, he donned his hat. He paused to cover Marcus with the light blanket, tousling his head gently.
Making his way to the top deck, he ran into Captain Rousseau taking his nightly stroll along the bow. The man puffed on his pipe, staring across the blackened sea as rings of smoke circled his head.
Talon plodded across the wooden planks and ambled to the rails, accepting Rousseau’s outstretched hand.
“Where are we headed, Captain?”
“We’re mere hours from Guadeloupe. We’ll continue there as planned.”
“And from there?”
Rousseau sighed. “I’m conflicted, mon ami. I would like nothing more than to confront this DuPont myself, but I’m under Monsieur Taylor’s employ. I can’t accuse the man without cause.”
Talon grunted. “DuPont and his son need a good whipping.”
“I agree.” Rousseau became pensive. “Monsieur Barberry?”
“Please, call me Talon.”
“D’accord, Talon. Talia said something that may be important, yet I can’t tie it together.”
Talon frowned. “What was it?”
“Lafitte claims this L’Archambeau is on his way to Temptation Hall to kill her father and take control of their plantation.”
Talon barked a laugh. “The cretin has quite an imagination.”
Rousseau sucked on his pipe. “Perhaps. However, Talia’s mother isn’t in New Orleans. She is on her way or most likely has arrived in Paris to stay with her sister.”
The hair on the back of Talon’s neck tingled as he rubbed his chin. “That’s convenient.”
“Oui, c’est vrai. I’ve never known Fernando to allow his wife to take such a dangerous voyage alone. Perhaps this Frenchman is close to the Montrose family—or closer than would appear.”
Talon leaned against the deck to contemplate the man’s theory. “L’Archambeau—what do we know about this man?”
“I frequently travel these islands, yet I’ve never heard of him. Perhaps we should question Lafitte about him on the morrow.”
“I don’t trust that upstart,” Talon muttered darkly. “Likely he’s involved with the whole thing.”
Rousseau tapped his fingers upon the rail and gave Talon a guarded look. “If I may interfere, Monsieur, I’ve known Talia most of her life. Lafitte may think he’s in love with her, but she has never once led the boy to believe there was anything but friendship between them. She’s never fancied young, immature pirates.”
Lifting an eyebrow, Talon let out a bitter laugh. “Are you saying she’s better with someone like me?”
“Why are you so desperate to rid yourself of a beautiful woman you obviously care about, one that cares deeply for you?”
Shaking his head, Talon huffed a sigh. “You can’t possibly understand, Captain.”
“You think not?”
Threading his fingers through his hair, Talon looked away. “I’m not a Spaniard, I’m Romani.” Like Talia, Rousseau’s brow furrowed in confusion. “A Gypsy.”
Rousseau shrugged. “And?”
Blinking, Talon rubbed his chin. Surely, this old pirate had heard of Gypsies. “We aren’t very well thought of by most—especially in London and Paris.”
Rousseau’s boisterous laugh punctured the night air. “And buccaneers are?” He clapped Talon on the back. “My Patrice is from a well-to-do Creole family outside of New Orleans. Her Papa hated me. Did it stop me—or her? My feisty wife stowed away aboard my ship in the cargo hold before I sailed for Martinique. It caused quite a scandal for her father. But he relented.”
“It isn’t the same,” Talon bit out. “My people have strict rules. In fact, my father is arranging my marriage for when I return.”
“Is that what you want?”
Talon harrumphed. “It doesn’t matter. Defying his wishes would mean being shunned by my family. We live by a code of honor that no gadjo can understand.”
Scratching his beard, the old man pushed his hat up with a sigh. “I’m not sure what you called me, but I don’t see the problem here. Haven’t you already dishonored yourself and Talia?”
Talon tampered the urge to be sick as he leaned against the rail. “You’re right. I’ve shamed her.”
“The heart’s wishes cannot be controlled.”
“It might not seem reasonable to an outsider, but taking something that wasn’t mine? It’s killing me, sir.”
Rousseau chuckled. “Love cannot kill you. It may give you grief from time to time, but killing you? Non.”
Talon shook his head. “What am I going to do?”
“Do you love her?” Talon squinted at the horizon, offering nothing. Rousseau gripped his shoulder. “Be truthful with yourself, mon ami. You can’t live a lie your entire life. It isn’t healthy. Besides, you could do a lot worse than Talia Montrose.”
Misery gripped Talon as he returned his gaze to the sea. The man was right. His Uncle Mica was living proof. He’d loved another, yet he’d sacrificed happiness and chosen the Romani way.
And he died from heartbreak.
“Fortunately, you have plenty of time to decide your fate,” Rousseau said. “It is a long journey to New Orleans.”
Indeed.
Talon offered the man his hand. “Thank you, Captain. You’re very wise.”
Tipping his hat, Rousseau smiled. “Any time, mon ami. Bonne Nuit.”
As Rousseau descended the stairs to the lower decks, Talon stared at the water. Sage advice notwithstanding, he had no idea what his true feelings were for Talia. Evidently, the woman had a hold on his heart, but he was afraid to let her have it completely.
And what of his family? He could never talk to his own father about such things. Yet this salty pirate was lecturing him about being true to himself. Would he ever find his way?
A warm breeze blew softly against his face. The sweet smell of exotic flowers and coconut filled his nostrils as Talia’s silhouette wavered near the bow. Talon chuckled. “You don’t have to lurk in the shadows, love.”
She stepped into the light, nibbling on her bottom lip as a crimson stain crept across her cheeks. She was hastily dressed in a long night shift that was obviously too big for her and a pair of satin slippers. Despite the ridiculous enormity of the garment, the blush of her rosy nipples peeked through the soft fabric.
Hunger overthrew piety as his gaze roamed over her. Pleading for his body to behave, he swallowed. “Madame Rousseau must be a rather robust woman.”
Talia held her arms out, and the billowy gown blew in the breeze like a tent. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oui. Patrice has a rather large bosom, among other things.” Joining him, she leaned against the rail. “I need to explain about Alex.”
Prickles rankled Talon’s nerves, effectively destroying whatever animalistic reaction he’d had to her. With his jaw set in a firm line, he held up his hand. “No need, Miss Montrose. As your guard, I promised to see you safely to your home. Your relationship with Mr. Lafitte isn’t my affair.”
Her eyes shot sparks as she blew out a breath. “There is nothing going on. Alex is like a brother to me. I’ve known him since I was eight. I met him on the pier in Martinique when my father first took me to the island.”
“It isn’t my concern,” Talon reiterated stubbornly.
Talia stamped her foot, anger etched in her delicate features. “Zut alors, you’re an infuriating man. Alex is the only one who knows what’s happening with Ricardo. We need his help.”
Talon stared at her intently. His heart stuttered. Darker shades of green sparked in her emerald gaze. Her cheekbones lifted as her jaw clenched. His cock hardened.
Brushing a hand across her cheek, he gave her a crooked smile. “Your eyes change color when you’re angry, did you know?”
Talia kicked him in the shins. As he grunted, she poked a finger in his chest. “You deserve that, Talon Barberry. Your seductive voice won’t work this time. You deserve to be cast out and lonely for the rest of your life for enticing me to fall in love with you. I hope you rot somewhere in England. Obviously, you don’t want me, and I don’t need you.”
As she stormed down the deck, Talon cut her off, grabbing her around her waist and hauling her to his chest. Without allowing her room to breathe, he crushed his mouth against hers. Weaving her fingers through his hair, she melted against him.
His manhood throbbed. He slid his hands beneath her gown and brushed her pebbled nipples. As his tongue laved a path down her neck to the opening of the dress, she whimpered.
“Talon... please.”
Breaking the kiss, he pressed her up against the rail and gazed deeply into her eyes. Rousseau was right. He had to be truthful with himself. He loved this woman more than he’d loved any other.
But he couldn’t say it. He feared those words more than any danger he’d encountered. The last time he’d shared his feelings, his betrothed had shredded his heart.
His pulse accelerated. “What is it you want from me?”
Talia’s lips parted, her eyes searching his as she arched her hips to meet his hardened shaft. “I want you.”
As the waves crashed noisily against the hull of the ship, the watch called out the time from the bow. A flush crept up Talon’s neck, and he pulled back, suddenly aware they weren’t alone.
Following his gaze, she grabbed his hand with an alluring smile. “Come with me.”
Talon trailed her to her cabin without putting up a fight. Evidently, his heartstrings were owned by this wily puppeteer.
At the door, she invited him in, but he shook his head. “Isn’t the captain sleeping in the next room?”
Talia rolled her eyes. “Jean-Jacques isn’t stupid. He knows what is going on with us. How do you think he met his wife?” She placed her soft hands on his unshaven cheeks. “Please, Talon. I need you to love me.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought her lips to his.
Groaning, he opened his mouth, savoring her honeyed warmth. He couldn’t resist her any longer. While she was asking him for more than just physical love, he wasn’t sure he could ever make a commitment to her. But her seductive voice and tender kisses drew him in.
If I’m going to die on this voyage, better it be like this.
Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to the bed. He deepened the kiss, trailing off to nip a path gently down her neck. He laid her back and ripped the horrid shift from her lithe body. “Much better.”
Kneeling between her legs, he took her breasts in his hands, kissing each milky-white mound as she quivered against him. Her underclothes were a lacy thing that fit rather well, but he rid her of those too. He needed to feel her. He wanted to caress her body and make love to her like he did every night in his dreams.
He ran his hands across her silky skin, reveling in her softness. Lying beside her, he skated his fingers down her torso and circled the rim of her sodden folds. Pressing into her, he caressed her dewy core.
She gasped and arched toward him. Palming his hard shaft through his breeches, she rubbed her wet rosebud against his hand. “Oui, Talon, I need you. Dieu, more than life...”
As her verdant gaze smoldered with unadulterated love, he could hardly contain himself. Right then, he knew he could never let this woman go.
His lips devoured hers. Quickly shedding his clothes, he covered her body with his and slid his aching cock into her warmth with a moan. She moved her hips in perfect rhythm, grasping his shoulders to force him deeper.
Making love to Talia was more intoxicating than Taylor’s rum. They cleansed themselves of the pent-up angst from the last few days. He savored each thrust, driving himself further into her velvety core. As she raked her hands down his back, crying out her pleasure, their sweet song began its crescendo. A few moments later, he soared after her.
Physically spent, he laid embedded within her, never wanting to leave. She snuggled against his chest. Touching her face, he swept her damp hair out of her eyes. She gazed at him, so trusting... so innocent. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Talia Montrose.”
Tears brimmed at her eyelashes as she ran a finger over his lips. “I love you, Talon Barberry.” Closing her eyes, she fell asleep in his arms.
Gathering her close, he buried his face in her hair. For the first time in his life, he felt complete. He never wanted to leave her warmth and loving protection. His heart needed hers.
Forever.