Shiver Her Timbers: The Plundered Chronicles Read online

  “I wish to see him as soon as possible. He––”

  “Risked his life fer ya. Fer all of us. I’ll send him to yer quarters as soon as Lake has finished with him, but ya must get some rest. We got a lotta work ahead of us to get this ship back in shape, and the crew needs to see yer in fightin’ shape. Rest.”

  “It was rest that caused me to sleep through the worst of it.”

  “We tried wakin’ ya, but we were takin’ water deep and didna have the time”

  “I can’t thank you enough, Tavish.”

  “Not just me. Kwame and Murphy got the galloglaighs to put that muscle to good use. This ship is still afloat ’cause of the glaighs. Be sure to thank ’em.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “We’ll come fer ya when the decks are all cleared.”

  “Or you find Captain O’Malley.”

  “Aye. Either way, ya will be the first to ken.” Tavish opened her door. “Ya screwed the pooch, Callaghan. Ya drank too much, ya made a shitty decision, and ya nearly got Evan killed. Next time the glaighs start drinkin’, I say step away.”

  Quinn trudged past him and flopped on the bed. Every muscle in her body ached. “No more whisky for me. I got that, Tavish. It feels like someone bashed my skull with a mallet.”

  He chuckled. “Och. Aye. I’ll send young Evan to ya as soon as I see him.”

  When the door closed, Quinn laid her forearm over her eyes. She was exhausted. Bone-weary. The wind, the rain, and the sea had all battered her like a boxer, and she felt heavy and thick. As she felt her body melt into the bed, she felt a hand on top of hers.

  “Ham Hock said ya wanted to see me.” Someone laid a hand on top of hers.

  Quinn opened her eyes and focused on Evan’s blue eyes. They were like two sapphires looking down at her. “Ham Hock?”

  “Aye. ’Tis what we call yer man Tavish because his fists look like huge ham hocks.” Evan lifted his hand from Quinn’s and gently stroked the hair from her forehead. It felt comforting, until she realized she was allowing another man to touch her like that.

  “Evan––”

  “I ken yer hesitancy, Cap, but there’s nothin’ wrong with ya acceptin’ comfort and gentleness from another. Give yerself a moment to accept some kindness from another. No one need ken.”

  Quinn closed her eyes, blew out a big breath, and felt her body loosen up. “Ya Scots... I do not believe I will ever understand ya.”

  “We are not so unalike, ya and I.”

  “Perhaps not, but ya did what no other might have done. Thank ya.”

  Evan smiled softly. “Yer welcome.”

  Slowly opening her eyes, Quinn looked into Evan’s face. “Why did ya risk yer life fer me. Why?”

  Evan pulled the chair up to the bed and continued stroking Quinn’s forehead. “Well now, I could answer the obvious: I was savin’ the captain of our ship. Or I could lie and say I’ve always wanted to be a hero. Then there’s that pesky truth. The thing is, I like ya, Cap. I really do. This world is a better place with pirates like ya in it.”

  Quinn tried to keep her eyes open, but they were too heavy. Like the rest of her body, they had a will of their own and refused to cooperate. “I’ll never drink Scottish whisky again.”

  Evan lightly chuckled. “Aye. The crew’s not real happy with ya, Cap. It was yer job to keep us safe, and ya kinda fucked that up.”

  Quinn closed her eyes. “Is that what ya think?”

  His caressing made Quinn feel like she was floating outside her heavy body. “Without ya... me and the ship might just be at the bottom of the sea.”

  “I like to believe ya’d have done the same fer me.” Evan slowly retracted his hand, but Quinn’s left hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

  “Stay. Please. It... please.”

  Freeing his wrist from her hand, Evan scooted closer and continued stroking Quinn’s hair. “Yer a verra courageous soul, Cap. Yer men and me warriors will speak of today fer a verra long time, and it is not easy to impress these warriors. Ken what they love more than fightin’ and killin’? A great story. Ya and me gave them a great story, Cap.”

  Quinn’s lips barely twitched. “Callaghan.”

  Evan frowned, his hand never ceasing its smooth caress over her forehead. “Eh?”

  “My name. It’s Callaghan.”

  “Maybe so, but ya will always be Cap to me.” Evan’s voice faded as Quinn felt sleep take her away.

  As the fringes of sleep slowly crept over her, images slowly appeared in Quinn’s dreamlike state. Becca’s smile. Fiona’s naked body. Gallagher’s chubby legs. Her life in pictures wafted lazily by until she wasn’t sure if she was awake or asleep.

  So when she felt soft, gentle lips upon her forehead, Quinn had no idea if they were real or just another dream moment coming to claim her.

  As the last vestiges of awareness floated away, Quinn mumbled, “Thank you” before succumbing to much-needed sleep.

  * * *

  “Where is he?” bellowed a voice so loud that it woke Quinn from a dreamless slumber.

  Her door crashed open so hard it flung back and almost closed before it slammed open again.

  “Callaghan? Are ya ill?”

  Quinn leapt to her feet, regretting it as she did. The leg the rope had wrapped around was stiff and sore. “I am well. It is so good to––”

  Grace took one long step into the room and embraced Quinn tightly. “My god, Callaghan, what in the goddesses’ names were ya thinkin’? When the storm separated us, I thought the worst. I thought––” Grace pulled back and checked Quinn over. “The crew had told me the story ’bout what ya did. Have ya lost yer mind? I put ya in charge to keep my crew safe.” Grace looked Quinn over once again. “Ya stink like the inside of a flask. Get yerself cleaned up, and don’t let this happen again.” Grace pulled the chair up and motioned for Quinn to sit down. “Ya climbed the mainmast durin’ a storm? The other person crazier than ya is the Scot who climbed up after ya. Ian?”

  “Evan.”

  “Aye. I’d like to meet that one. The rest are smelly fighters reekin’ of whisky.” Grace sat on the edge of the second chair. “But that Evan... savin’ ya like he did. There’s gold fer his purse when this is all over.”

  Quinn nodded. “I’m sorry about the ship.”

  Grace waved the remark away. “Nothin’ ya coulda done. Both galleys took a bit of a beatin’, but nothin’ we can’t fix. A few repairs and we’ll be on our way. I’m just so happy to see ya all made it.”

  “Everyone on the other ship?”

  “Fine. A few wounded here and there. Innis did an admirable job durin’ a storm that tested even my abilities, but ya almost let me down.”

  “I understand. I have to say, you make it appear easy. It is not.”

  “No, Callaghan, it is not. It was made even harder because ya carry so many Barrians, them land-lovin’ arses, instead of sailors, but yer safe now.” Grace rose and put her chair back under the table. “We’re goin’ to haul ya into Castle Bay, the next port, fer repairs.”

  Quinn also rose. “But that means––”

  “Aye. Collectin’ the galloglaighs again and gettin’ them back aboard the ships. I think I know the best way to get their sodden arses back on board. Ya leave it to me... and stay away from the whisky.”

  Not long after Grace left her quarters, there came a knock at the door.

  It was Evan.

  “Ya look keener than ya did when I left. Yer Captain O’Malley told me ya were awake and thanked me over and over. Yer special to her, Cap. That much is obvious. I just came to see if ya needed ennathin’.”

  A slow grin crept on Quinn’s face as she opened the door all the way and beckoned Evan to enter. Evan was a good man. A kind man. He was someone she could talk to and share stories with.

  But how could it be any more than that? She’d never been attracted to any man.

  “I need nothin’ save yer good company... well, and help with my boots. Apparently, my body does no
t wish to bend quite yet.”

  Evan took Quinn’s worn leather boots and turned them over in his hand. “My god, Cap, ya could use a new pair. These are broken down to bits.”

  “I don’t fancy new leather. Too stiff and too hard to break in.”

  “That’s because yer wearin’ nasty Irish leather. Ya folks doona ken how to beat leather into submission. When we land at Bagh a Chaisteil, let’s find ya some boots fit fer a captain of this ship.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe I’ll have time fer boot fittin’, Evan. It’s gonna to take all of my time and energy to herd yer guys back onto the ship.”

  Evan waved this away. “Ah, Cap, ya are worried fer nothin’. The island of Barra has no love lost fer Highlanders, and the last place our fighters want to be is left stranded on a hostile island. Ya will see. They’ll drink at the port, but they willna let the ship out of their sight. Remember––most canna swim.”

  Quinn studied Evan’s soft features. “Yer not like most Scots, are ya?”

  Evan tipped his head back and laughed. “I doona ken. What, pray tell, are ‘most Scots’ like?”

  “Well, I suppose a lot like yer weather... a bit cold. Somewhat harsh. Often unreachable.”

  Evan helped Quinn with her left boot. “Unreachable? Och, aye, but ya do have a low opinion of us.”

  Quinn watched Evan put on her other boot. “I see I need to revise my opinion.”

  Evan looked up at her. “Good to hear. It is never wise to lump together an entire group by another’s opinion. We are all different and yet, at the same time, all alike.”

  As Evan rose, Quinn’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. “Ya have been more than kind to me, Evan. I do not know how to thank ya.”

  He glanced down at her hand. “That’s easy. I like ya. Ya have a big heart, Cap. And besides... yer not like most Irishmen.” He laughed an infectious laugh before starting for the door. “I’ll make sure the fighters return to the ship.”

  “Thank ya. Again.”

  Stopping at the door, Evan turned. “Yer wrong aboot Scotsmen. It is because of the cold and damp that we are fiery and passionate. Ya’ve never really been loved until ya’ve been loved by a Scot.”

  With that, Evan left Quinn, who rose and pulled her boots up, staring down at their weathered and beaten leather.

  So much had changed in the last six years that she shouldn’t have been at all surprised she was attracted to a man.

  But she was.

  There was something about Evan she couldn’t look away from, and it was such a strange sensation. Still, she had never, not once been attracted to a man, so it was more than a little disconcerting to find that she was so enamored with young Evan.

  “Port ahead,” Kwame said, sticking his head through the door.

  “Comin’.”

  As Quinn left her quarters, Tavish sidled up next to her. “I’ll keep an eye on the fighters at the pub, Captain. Ya just make sure the riggin’ gets repaired.”

  “Aye.” Quinn looked at Tavish as he studied her. “What is it?”

  “Ya doona see it, do ya?”

  “See what?”

  “That Scot boy. He is quite taken with ya. Risked his life fer ya.”

  “For us. For the ship.”

  “Ya shoulda seen him, Captain. He scaled that nettin’ like he’d been doin’ it his entire life. Before enna of us could even move, he had skittered on up.”

  “That doesn’t mean he is smitten with me.” Quinn thought about the soft kiss on her forehead, the gentle way he had caressed her hair. There was no denying the fact that Evan cared for her.

  How odd was it that she cared back? What strangeness was this? Quinn was befuddled by it all.

  “Ya see it, too, dontcha? Be careful, lad. Doona get mixed up with a laoch cuidich whose fighter is a tree trunk of a man.”

  “Mixed up? Tavish, do you know what you’re sayin’?”

  Tavish leaned in close and whispered. “Aye, lad, I do. Be careful is all I’m sayin’.” With that, Tavish walked away, leaving Quinn wondering just how much Tavish really knew about her.

  * * *

  The port at Castle Bay was a bustling metropolis of the small island, but the galloglaighs saw none of it. They made a straight line for the nearest tavern, just as Evan had said they would.

  Evan did not go with them. Instead, he hung back and kept an eye out by the perimeter of the tavern, along with four other laoch cuidiches.

  “It’s their job,” Tavish whispered from behind Quinn, who stood on the dock watching Evan.

  “It’s their job to guard?”

  “Guard, scout, secure, ya name it, lad. The galloglaighs I ken stay alive by always bein’ vigilant––always bein’ aware of their surroundins.”

  “Even in Scotland?”

  “Especially in Scotland.” Tavish started toward the blacksmith’s. “Do what the captain said and stay near the ship. I’ll be back with some of the couplers we lost.” Tavish took one step and then turned back. “The islanders have no love lost fer the Highlanders, lad. Stay on yer toes until we can make the repairs. Doona trust them or ennaone connected to them.”

  “So the Scots are as balled up as we are?”

  “Balled up? Oh, aye. We got nothin’ on yer clans, but Catholics versus Protestants can be just as deadly. We want to be in and out as soon as we can.”

  Quinn nodded as Tavish walked away. They had sails that needed repair, ropes that needed to be bought, rigging that needed a blacksmith. She couldn’t imagine shoving off anytime soon. It would take at least a day just to repair the rigging.

  “We’ve got a bit of a problem, don’t we?”

  Quinn found One Eye standing next to her. “Ya mean if they won’t get back on the ship?”

  One Eye put a fist to his good eye and rubbed it. “If they won’t, Innis and Connor are gonna try to talk to the captain and call off the trip. It isn’t wise fer us to be in Scotland without aid.”

  Quinn nodded. “Why do I get the feelin’ there’s more to her relationship with Mary of Scotland than meets the eye?”

  “Oh, I’m sure there is. Innis would know. Ask him if yer curious. Me? I just want off this lowbrow island and back onto the sea.”

  Cocking her head, Quinn asked, “Lowbrow?”

  “Aye. Barrians. Barrians despise Highlanders, and vice versa. If we get them out of here without any problems, I’ll be surprised.”

  Quinn hated surprises.

  * * *

  Three hours after they landed, the Barrians of Castle Bay made their wishes known to Grace, who stood with Quinn and Innis as they directed the crew here and there about the dock.

  “Can we have a word with ya?” a plumpish elderly gentleman called to her. He wore a green plaid kilt with a brown leather jerkin stained in several places.

  “Ya can talk in front of my men, sir,” Grace replied. “What can I do fer ya?”

  “My family is the MacNeils, and this here castle and land belong to the MacNeils.”

  Grace did not reply, but waited patiently for his point.

  “The MacNeils willna be pleased to ken yer here.”

  “We’re not here fer either them or their castle, so ya can relax and go on yer merry way.”

  The man took a step toward Grace and was met with three swords pointed at him. He raised his hands in surrender and stared up at Grace. “Ya might wish to rethink yer position.”

  Thirty Barrians came out from behind various buildings. All wielded weapons. Four had arrows notched in their bows.

  Quinn, Innis, and every crew member around pulled out their swords.

  “Put yer weapons down, Captain O’Malley,” the Scotsman ordered. “Or ya and yer men here are dead where ya stand.”

  Grace lightly touched both Quinn and Innis’s wrists. “Put them away.”

  Innis shook his head. “We do and we’re dead men, sir.”

  The Scot in the kilt slowly lowered his hands. “We got no quarrel with ya, Grace O’Malley, or with the Iris
h, but ya brought them disloyal mercenaries to our home. Broken ship or not, ya better take them off this island in yer one good ship, or ya will meet the same fate as they.”

  Grace took a step forward so she was now in front of her men. “Threatenin’ me and mine is not a verra wise thing to do. The MacNeil clan and the O’Malleys have always been allies—otherwise I’d never have pulled up here.”

  “Allies doona bring enemies to our doorstep.”

  “Not our intent. Look, no one is botherin’ ennaone right now. The galloglaighs are partakin’ of some sorely missed Scottish whisky. We’ll fix our sails and be on our way without incident.”

  “Ya will be on yer way without the Highlanders, Captain O’Malley.”

  Grace inhaled deeply. “Yer queen will not be pleased to know––”

  “She’s not our queen enna more than yer the queen of Ireland. I’ll not tell ya again. Ya and yer crew have safe passage out of here in the one ship not needin’ repairs. We’ll call the two ya leave payment fer a... fer yer lack of good judgment.”

  Grace O’Malley heaved a sigh. “Then it appears we have no other choice but to leave. I’ll not risk my men fer a buncha turncoats, but ya can rest assured I’ll be back fer my ships, and if they have been ill treated, I’ll come after ya and all the MacNeils still on this shitty piece of land.”

  “As ya wish.”

  Grace turned to Innis. “Ring the Malendroke’s bell.”

  Innis just stared at her.

  “Three times so they hurry on up. It will throw everraone off.” To Quinn she said, “Get all our men off the Breeze and the Mystery and get them to the Malendroke as soon as possible.”

  “What about you?”

  Grace looked down at the pudgy Scot. “I believe he means to hold me until ya have completed yer tasks.”

  The MacNeil nodded. “They said ya were shrewd... fer a female.”

  “Astute enough to know when it is best to leave well enough alone. Go on,” she said to Quinn and Innis. “Both of ya. I’ll have myself a seat over there and will wait.”

  Quinn and Innis exchanged looks before both took off running.