Shiver Her Timbers (The Plundered Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  Caressing Quinn’s back, Evan kissed her temple. “Glaighs doona say goodbye, Cap. It puts the end to the wind, and the wind carries with it the truth.”

  “Ah. I have much to learn about Scottish spirituality and beliefs

  Evan snuggled closer. “I am not so easy to forget, eh?”

  Quinn raised her head and gazed into Evan’s eyes. “Forget ya? I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about ya since the moment we met.”

  “See? Impossible.” Evan kissed Quinn softly. “Yer quite a fighter yerself, me pirate captain. I was impressed and slightly excited by watchin’ ya fight. Such passion. Such focus. Yer an amazin’ creature, Cap.”

  “It’s Quinn. Quinn Gallagher.”

  Evan backed her head away slightly. “Would ya prefer––”

  “I prefer Cap.” Quinn leaned down and kissed Evan gently. “And ya? What’s yer real name?”

  “Evangelina.”

  “Truly?”

  “Aye. My parents had high hopes.”

  Looking into Evan’s eyes, Quinn felt her entire being warm and soften all at once. “Answer me this: Did the queen truly cut ya all loose after we left?”

  Evan smiled and reached up to brush a stray hair from Quinn’s forehead. “Honestly? She did so only after Lake sent her a message sayin’ he believed ya and yer men might be in trouble. Lake would have gone with or without her blessin’ and taken the gold she gave with us. It would not have been the wisest move, but he is a loyal man when loyalty is deserved.”

  Quinn suddenly sat up. “How could he possibly have known?”

  “He recognized that stayin’ much longer in her service might commit us to a country that is no longer our home and no longer safe. Elizabeth is too strong for Mary. We understand that now, so he used the only chip he had. Mary shooed him away not a moment after, gave us horses and away we went.”

  “So what happened in Dublin?”

  Flipping Quinn over, Evan lay on her side next to her. “We got to Dublin and started hearin’ aboot the capture of the pirate queen. The rest ya ken.”

  Tracing Evan’s thick eyebrow with a forefinger, Quinn nodded. “Ya returned to Clare not a moment too soon.”

  “Thank the goddess. There were more men on that ship than at first glance. Lake barely managed to get us all out in time. The killin’ was easier than I expected, what with us pinnin’ them and all. Yer men fought like glaighs.”

  “There are a lot of bodies to deal with.”

  “Aye. We’ll deal with those come mornin’. Right now, there is only one body I wish to handle.” Evan lightly kissed Quinn’s lips. “But before I go on, I have just one question. Are ya done with her?”

  “Her?”

  “The woman who makes ya furrow yer brow and pace the deck. The woman who weighs heavily on yer heart and clouds yer mind. Her.”

  “How did ya know?”

  “I got One Eye drunk one night on the ship and asked him what was makin’ yer heart so heavy. He told me aboot Fiona Moynihan.”

  “That bastard. I ought to cut out his tongue.”

  “Not his fault. I got him soused on purpose. I... I needed to ken if yer heart would be open to me or not. After what he told me, I was unsure. After watchin’ ya pace and worra so, I dina believe ya were open to lovin’ another.”

  “That’s over, Evan.”

  “But it hurt yer heart to let go?”

  Quinn nodded. “I won’t lie. I love her still. I probably always will, but we live in different worlds.”

  “As do ya and I.”

  Quinn looked up at her a long time before replying. “As ya stated earlier, I am a sea fighter and ya are a land warrior. We could not be such opposites unless we were the moon and the sun.”

  “And yet, here we are.”

  Quinn nodded. “Yes. Here we are.”

  Tracing her fingers down the center of Quinn’s body, Evan rested her palm on Quinn’s bare belly. “Cap, I have learned a great deal in my time with Lake and the rest of the galloglaighs, and the greatest lesson is that everra day is precious because it could easily be our last. Galloglaighs live hard, fight harder, and love when they can. This moment here with ya may or may not be our last, but it is all we truly have.”

  Laying her hand on top of Evan’s, Quinn sighed. “No promises, then?”

  Evan chuckled. “I canna even promise to be alive at the end of the day tomorra, so no, Cap. No promises. I can give ya all of me right at this moment, but since this is all we have, it’s the best I can do.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Evan kissed her again, her lips traveling down Quinn’s neck, soft Gaelic words escaping her mouth.

  Quinn arched her back and moaned slightly. “Damn, Evan, what are ya doin’ to me?”

  Looking up, she smiled. “Were ya not listenin’, then? I told ya––I am gonna teach ya the ways of the galloglaighs.”

  “But I... I thought ya meant... fightin’.”

  “Fightin’... lovin’... sometimes they are one and the same.”

  * * *

  When Quinn entered the messy banquet hall the next morning, the laoch cuidiches were busily picking up all the spilled goblets and decanters.

  Lake and several of the other galloglaighs were stacking the dead in a pile. The pirates had yet to stir.

  As Quinn walked out to where Lake stood barking orders, her eyes scanned the area for Evan, who had snuck out in the middle of the night to return to her men.

  “He’s gone with that One Eye fella to bring a boat ’round.” Lake’s voice carried to her on the wind.

  “How is it yer already up and at it this mornin’?”

  A deep laugh came from the bottom of Lake’s well. “We’re Scotsmen, Captain. A little revelry canna keep us down. We need to get these bodies out of here before they go bad. If we wait fer yer lads, they’ll pop like full blisters.”

  Quinn stepped back as two fighters carried a rather rotund MacMahon to the pile.

  “Where are ya headed after this?” Quinn asked.

  Lake cocked his head. “We were under the assumption ya’d be headin’ back to Dublin fer Grace. We had planned on goin’ with ya to see if we could devise a plan to rescue her.”

  Quinn looked puzzled, not because of what he said, but how he said the last word––with feeling.

  “Thank ya, Lake. We’ll not go off half-cocked.”

  “Well then, when ya do go off, we’d like to come with ya. Dubliners put up a good fight fer sure, but we want a taste of those Englishmen. If ya will have us, we’d be happy to join ya.”

  Quinn didn’t know if her excitement came from having assistance in Dublin or from knowing she would get more time with Evan.

  Evan.

  Quinn had slept with many women since she donned pirate pants, but nothing, not even making love with Fiona, had prepared her for this kind of lovemaking. It was fiery, passionate, intimate, wild, physical, and fun. Becca was fun, but this? This was transportive.

  Evan was amazing.

  And now she would have her for a few more days at the very least.

  “Don’t these Scots ever sleep?” Innis asked, walking up next to Quinn in bare feet and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “Ya sound envious.”

  “Maybe a wee bit. Have ya seen how much they drink?”

  “Bottomless pits.”

  They both chuckled.

  “Callaghan, it’s time we figured out our next step.”

  “What were yer thoughts?”

  “It won’t be a popular decision, but it might verra well save our lives.”

  Quinn waved to Evan as the boat sailed into the harbor. “Let me hear it.”

  “Fightin’ in Dublin would not only be unwise but might get us more enemies than we need, Callaghan. Ya know it. I know it. It’s too easy to be surrounded in a city. Too many variables. Too many things can go wrong. Too many innocent folks can get in the way.”

  “Agreed. If we don’t go in fightin’, what did ya have in mind?”

>   He turned to her. “Gold.”

  “Gold?”

  “Aye. I say we take the Malendroke, Breeze, and Mystery and plunder our way up the coast until we are so laden with gold and silver we can barely float.”

  “Ya want to bribe her way out of there?”

  “Elizabeth wants her gold back. We’re willin’ to return some of it to her. If they give us Captain O’Malley, we will give them all the gold in our holds. Let’s just see how badly the bitch queen wants Captain O’Malley.”

  Rubbing her chin, Quinn nodded. “Good plan, Innis. Really.”

  “And if we canna bribe them to let her free, we will use the gold to bribe the guards. But one way or another, we are freein’ Grace O’Malley from that bloody castle. Gold, Callaghan, will open more doors fer us than blood.”

  Quinn put her hand on his shoulder. “And that, right there, is why yer her first mate. It’s worth a try, Innis.”

  When Innis walked away, Quinn stared after him.

  Grace O’Malley inspired that depth of loyalty, and it was that loyalty that would save her life.

  * * *

  Eleven days out to sea, we’ve already amassed a sizable collection of chests filled with gold and silver coins. Innis’s idea was really a solid one. Every English ship we board, he tells the captain and crew to let Elizabeth know that unless Grace O’Malley is released, it will continue to cost her.

  I thought that a little reckless until Evan told me a story one evening as we lay together in my quarters aboard the Breeze.

  She told me about the time Lake had been captured by the English... not long after Evan had become a laoch cuidich. It had been a skirmish between the English occupiers and the Irish clans on the southern coast of the island. The galloglaighs had been called in by one of the nobles who wanted the settlers to disperse and leave his lands.

  During the battle, Lake had been hit over the head and eventually captured by the English. Because of his size, they trussed him up and dragged him onto a ship to take back to the queen. Apparently, the English felt he was quite the prize and believed it would boost their esteem in the queen’s eyes to show that they had actually conquered the mighty galloglaigh.

  A trophy.

  Nothing more, nothing less.

  So they took Lake in shackles to tell the queen about the battle and how successful the plantation was becoming.

  Plantation.

  The word makes my skin crawl.

  Anyway, when they finally had an audience with her, Elizabeth looked Lake over like he was nothing but chattel and offered him his freedom if he would only agree to spy on Mary and her troops, as well as try to run the galloglaighs against both Ireland and Scotland.

  Lake refused.

  Elizabeth was not thrilled. She ordered Lake under the lash and then to be released at the border. She wanted to break him... to send a strong Scot home a broken man as a none too subtle message.

  She made the mistake of letting him live.

  When he arrived at the border, bloodied back and all, Evan and a huge contingency of galloglaighs from all over the country were waiting.

  They crushed the English soldiers and lined the border with four dozen heads on pikes.

  That message was heeded, and Elizabeth pulled her men further away from the border.

  Queen Elizabeth hates to lose. She is an excellent tactician and strategist and knows when to ebb and when to flow.

  So as nervous as it made me to allow the English crew members to live, if Lake and Innis both believed sending a message to Elizabeth might get Grace released, I had to hope they knew what they were doing.

  I know what I’m doing.

  I am falling in love with the little laoch cuidich. I have watched her for days now and am impressed and amazed by her physical strength and agility. I am amazed that she is strong one moment and soft the next. That she can run a man through one day and love me up the next. She is wonderful, warm, funny, loyal, and she makes me laugh.

  Yesterday, I sat with the crew while she and another laoch cuidich showed the crew something called Shaolin. According to Evan, Shaolin had been employed by a group of monks a decade ago. These monks used this Shaolin technique to defeat a band of pirates. These warrior monks (who knew there was such a thing?) chased the surviving pirates over ten days and almost twenty miles. The pirates lost over one hundred of their men to the monks’ four.

  I stood, transfixed on Evan as she told the story. Our men were equally as enthralled, not just because of the tale but because of the teller. Evan had the gift of a bard––a finer storyteller I’ve never heard.

  When she finished the tale of the Shaolin warrior monks, she asked the crew one question: What had the monks used to defeat the pirates?

  The crew, like excited children in school, called out everything from axes to cannon balls. When at last they settled down, Evan held her hand up.

  They silenced immediately.

  Even walked over to a mop stick and held it up. “With sticks.”

  The crew went wild.

  I fell harder for her. Then she asked for a volunteer, and that was when things got interesting.

  * * *

  When Evan asked for a volunteer, Connor rose. She had him pull his swords.

  Quinn was slightly nervous about seeing her lover facing a good fighter with two swords while she held just a stick. The stick was as tall as she was, but it was, after all, just a stick.

  Quinn looked to Lake, who leaned against the railing, his arms folded across his chest as if he, too, was enjoying this demonstration.

  Evan told Connor to come at her. He wisely looked to Lake, who nodded.

  When Connor raised his swords, Evan began twirling that stick under one armpit, in front, under the other, in such a manner that Connor froze.

  “Come on, Connor,” one of the crew urged. “He’s a wee bit of a thing.”

  Connor took two steps.

  Evan continued rotating the staff in such a way that Connor did not know where to strike. His hesitance cost him as Evan, in a move that defied her gender, first knocked his long sword from his hand and then his short sword.

  The crew erupted as his swords clanged on the deck. When Connor reached for them, she hit his wrist with the stick.

  To everyone’s surprise, she tossed her stick to Lake, who caught it with one hand.

  “I’ll make it fair,” she said, taking a fighting stance.

  Connor glanced at Quinn. All she could do was shrug.

  “Come on, Connor. Ya outweigh me and are taller and probably stronger. How hard can it be to take me down?”

  Launching himself at her, Connor was swept off his legs by a leg sweep. He fell with an oof to the deck but jumped back up and came at her again.

  Evan blocked his attempt to hit her with her left forearm, grabbed his other arm, flipped him to the ground and pinned him with her knee to his chest.

  “The Shaolin monks used a stick and only their hands and legs as weapons to defeat the pirates. They had many techniques that allowed them to beat even armed opponents.”

  The deck was silent as Evan helped Connor to his feet.

  Connor took three steps before wheeling around, fist cocked and face red.

  Evan dodged the blow, grabbing his fist and driving him to his knees. “Shaolin is the oldest of the oriental arts of defense. It takes years to learn but is one of the best ways fer a warrior to stay alive.”

  When she released Connor, Lake said, “I’d be done if I were ya, Connor. He hasna even begun showin’ ya the damage he’s capable of.”

  Connor took Lake’s advice and sat in the audience. Evan went on to explain to the crew that she’d seen them all fight and they wouldn’t last five minutes against a Shaloin monk. On the deck of a ship, where mobility was limited, knowing how to fight without a weapon was advantageous.

  They were all eating out of the palm of her hand, and for the next three days, the laoch cuidiches and galloglaighs trained Grace’s crew on Shaolin techniques.


  If Quinn hadn’t loved Evan before, she certainly did after that demonstration.

  Quinn, of course, received private lessons from the little warrior, and though she kicked Quinn’s arse every single time, Quinn began to understand the need for this style of fighting.

  This was the end of their twelfth day at sea, and finally, Innis believed they had enough booty to take to Dublin, where they were now headed.

  Dublin.

  Where they would either free their captain or turn their galloglaighs loose on their countrymen.

  Quinn could only pray it wouldn’t be the latter.

  “Lad?” Tavish asked. “Aboot the gold? Ya gotta make a decision here and soon.”

  Quinn closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The crew was getting itchy to get to Grace, to rescue her from her prison. Would doing so cost more lives?

  She knew it would.

  Grace would never leave a man behind. Quinn had seen as much form her captain during and after the fire.

  Turning to the men, she nodded slowly. “Captain Grace O’Malley has fed us, made us wealthy men, and given us a place to call home. If there be enna man who does not wish to repay her fer all that she’s done to give us a home—a family—now is the time to walk away. No disgrace. No judgement. Just know: stayin’ means riskin’ yer lives to save our captain.”

  The men looked around at each other. No one moved.

  Nodding, Quinn raised her sword in the air and shouted, “Then Dublin it is! Time to show the world just what Grace O’Malley’s crew is made of!”

  As the men raised their swords and hollered, Quinn caught Tavish’s eye.

  She could only wonder at how many of them wouldn’t make it back.

  Book three in the Plundered Chronicles is now available. Click here to pick up your copy of Fire in the Hole today!

  www.alexwestmore.net/Plundered

  More from Alex Westmore

  The Plundered Chronicles

  The Pirate’s Booty