The Pirate's Booty (The Plundered Chronicles Book 1) Page 30

  Then he did something that surprised everyone.

  He tackled Sayyida, his weight carrying them both over the side of the ship and plunging into the frothing water below.

  “No!” Quinn yelled, running over to the side.

  Sayyida’s head resurfaced among the choppy waves, as did the brutish head of the English pirate who attacked her.

  “Callaghan!” Kwame yelled, deflecting a potential blow to the back of the head. “No!”

  Whirling around, Quinn jammed her sword tip into the chest of her attacker until it came out the other side. Then she grabbed one of the rigging ropes, tied it around her waist, and cut off the other end.

  “Don’t let me down,” she said, handing the end of the rope to Kwame.

  “How do you know this is even long enough?”

  She grinned. “I don’t. Hang on to me, Kwame. Please.”

  And with that, Quinn jumped, feet first, over the side of the ship, falling, falling, falling, until finally plummeting into the cold water below.

  When she surfaced, a wave slammed into her face, salt water filling her mouth.

  As Quinn sputtered and choked, she was relieved to feel the tautness of the rope, but could barely see anything other than the ceaseless waves pounding her.

  When a swell rolled by, Quinn ducked under it, resurfaced, and saw the pirate swimming toward Sayyida.

  “Sayyida! Over here! Swim over here!” Quinn yelled. In her rush, she failed to yell in Latin, and had reverted back to her native Gaelic. As a result, Sayyida did not move and did not see the pirate swimming toward her like a shark after a wounded seal.

  Quinn put her head down and started digging into the water, arms churning, legs kicking, eyes burning from the salt water.

  The Englishman reached Sayyida first and leapt upon her, both arms on her head, pushing her under the water’s rough surface. Using his weight, he held her there.

  One.

  Three.

  Five seconds, and Sayyida had not resurfaced.

  Suddenly, the Englishman howled and cursed, but he did not let up.

  Seven.

  Ten.

  Finally, Quinn reached him. The look on his face was worth the jump.

  Pulling one of her throwing knives from her sheath, she rammed it, full force, through his Adam’s apple and out the back of his neck. Then she withdrew it and embedded it in his eye socket just to make sure.

  He finally released his hold on Sayyida, falling back into the next wave that wrapped its wet arms around him and pulled him to his final resting place.

  Quinn dove under the water, grabbed Sayyida’s shirt, and pulled her to the surface, where she inhaled a panicked breath only to consume half air, half water.

  As she choked and sputtered, she threw her fists in Quinn’s direction, until Quinn said in a language she could understand, “It’s Callaghan, from Grace O’Malley’s ship! Calm yerself. He is dead.”

  Sayyida, still coughing up seawater, blinked away the salt water. “You.”

  Quinn released the front of Sayyida’s shirt. “Aye. Me.”

  “Where... where is he?”

  “Dead. At the bottom of the sea.”

  Sayyida shook her head. “No. I only injured him with my dagger. Surely, he is––”

  “I finished the job fer ya. Trust me. He is dead. Hold onto me. Yer safe now.”

  She shook her head. “We will not be safe until we can get to the ship, and we need––”

  Quinn showed her the rope. “No one is drowning this day, Captain Al Hurra. We need only swim over ta one of these boats. Our men will drop a ladder fer us. Can ya climb? Are ya injured?”

  Sayyida gazed intently into Quinn’s face. “Thanks to your bravery, I am unharmed.”

  “Good. Here, hold on ta the rope around my waist. The waves are merciless, and I would hate ta lose ya now.”

  Sayyida surprised Quinn by kissing her on the mouth. “You saved my life, Callaghan of Ireland. For that, you shall never lose me.”

  Swimming the ten meters felt more like swimming ten leagues as the waves tried again and again to prevent them from reaching one of Grace’s rowboats.

  When, at last, Quinn grabbed the side with her hand, she knew she had precious little energy left to haul herself up to the boat.

  With her last bit of strength, Quinn pulled herself out of the water and into the boat, helping Sayyida up and over the side before collapsing on the bottom of the small boat.

  Landing on top of Quinn, Sayyida rested her head on Quinn’s shoulder. “We... must get... back to the battle.”

  Inhaling deeply, Quinn nodded. “Aye. I need a moment. I do not believe my arms capable of climbing right now. They are still there, right?”

  Sayyida raised her face inches from Quinn’s. “You are either a lunatic or a fool for jumping in after me. You do not even know me.”

  Quinn stared into her intense dark eyes. “Neither. I am a loyal crew member of Grace O’Malley, and her instructions were clear: protect you at all cost.”

  Sayyida did not blink as she gazed into Quinn’s face. The air around them suddenly quieted, the waves somehow dampened against the side of the boat.

  Ever so slowly, Sayyida al Hurra lowered her mouth to Quinn’s and kissed her for a long, tender moment, a kiss that Quinn gently returned. Sayyida was a consummate kisser with a softly probing tongue and gentle mouth. It was easy to return her affection of gratitude.

  “I... uh... ”

  “Shhh, Callaghan of Ireland—kiss me again. Perhaps doing so will revive your limbs enough to get us back to the ship.”

  Quinn did so.

  “So, lad,” came Fitz’s booming voice, over the railing of the ship. “While we’re fightin’ fer our lives, yer makin’ love with a Muslim pirate? Is that how it goes?”

  Quinn pulled away and struggled to sit up. “I take it by yer jaunty disposition that ya won?”

  There was a slight pause before Fitz replied, “Don’t know what the bloody hell that means, but if yer askin’ if the fightin’ is over, yeah, it is. Ladder’s comin’.”

  Quinn waited for Sayyida to get off of her before informing her that the English had lost the battle. “Taking the English ship was brilliant,” Quinn said, feeling a chill from the cold water as her wet clothes clung to her.

  “My plan would not have worked without Grace’s generous gift of her men.” Sayyida squeezed the water from her long black hair. “And you. You are quite an unexpected pleasure.”

  “Can I inquire as ta how ya two know each other?”

  Sayyida watched as the rope ladder unfurled until it hit the water. “That is not my story to tell. If you wish to know, you must ask Grace.” Carefully rising, Sayyida smiled at Quinn. “She is an astute captain and a brave warrior, but the one thing she is, more than anything else, is a true friend. You are lucky to serve under her, Callaghan of Ireland, and my crew and I are fortunate to call you friend now as well.”

  With that, Sayyida grabbed the ladder and started her climb.

  ***

  The revelry that evening was unlike anything Quinn had ever experienced. Expensive Portuguese wine from the English ship flowed freely as Sayyida produced cask upon cask of the tasty liquid along with dried fish, olives, and a meat Quinn had never tasted before.

  The losses, while minimal, still hurt. Three of Grace O’Malley’s men had died in the fight, and one more struggled to survive his wounds. No one had the courage to ask Captain O’Malley how it was that she and Sayyida knew each other well enough to risk her own men. Speculation abounded until Innis put a stop to it––what did it matter?

  As Quinn drank her second tankard of the heady wine, Shea continued to feed those who would eat a dinner as opposed to drinking it. She seemed almost at home in the galley kitchen and was already reverting back to her happier self as she fed the men and both captains.

  Grace and Sayyida sat together at the bow chatting of something no man was be privy to, clinking their tankards together every
now and then in unison and tossing their heads back and laughing at some inside jest. They reminded Quinn of the way Shea and she would laugh when they got together.

  Kwame’s eyes never left Shea.

  Tavish’s eyes never left Quinn.

  And many other sets of eyes became dazed and glassy.

  The two crews toasted everything from Allah to Zanzibar, grateful for living through the storm and the impromptu battle. It was a night to be remembered on board the Malendroke as the gala lasted into the wee hours of the morning.

  When Quinn had had enough, she went to the bow of the ship—now vacated by Grace and Sayyida—and let the crisp night air wash over her face.

  “I understand you leapt overboard to save my captain,” came a tight voice in choppy Latin.

  “I did.” Quinn glanced up at a mountain of a man who had only one hand, one eye, one ear, and a scar that crisscrossed his cheek.

  She was quite glad they were on the same side.

  “Thank you for it,” the mountain rumbled.

  Quinn closed her eyes again. “My pleasure.”

  The man leaned over and peered at her with his one good eye. “No. I mean it. Thank you. You did what her men should have.”

  “Uh... aren’t ya one of her men?”

  “No. I am Nodul, her brother. My family will forever be in your debt.” He bowed and started to back away, but Quinn caught his wrist.

  “Please. Sit. Drink with me. Tomorrow, we return to work sailing the seas and plundering each other’s booty.” Quinn tipped her tankard against his and then gulped some down, coughing as it went down the wrong pipe.

  Nodul laughed. “Young drinkers. I must check my sister. Once again, thank you.”

  As Nodul lumbered away, Tavish approached. “Careful, laddie,” Tavish said, clapping Quinn on the back. “Trust her, not her crew. A Moroccan can steal ya blind while laughin’ in yer face. Keep yer wits aboot ya always.”

  “Relax, Tavish. Tonight we celebrate. Everything is going to be fine.”

  When Tavish rose, Shea took his seat and turned to Quinn. “I can see why you love this life. It’s written all over your face. These men? They adore you. Captain O’Malley? She needs you.” Shea leaned in and whispered. “Is it dangerous? Bloody right it is, but Quinn, you light up on this silly ship. You are so different as a man––happier.”

  “I have only three or four more days before that is no longer the case. Once I return you to your family, I seriously doubt Father will relinquish me to the deck of a pirate ship once more.”

  “Why does he get a say?”

  Quinn frowned. “A say?”

  “It’s your life. You and you alone are responsible for the choices you make. You’ll never marry, never be what your family wishes you to be, so live your life on your own terms. Stay a pirate.”

  “Stay a––”

  “I said a pirate, not a parrot. It isn’t inconceivable, you know. You’ve lasted this long without detection. I just... I hate to see you give up a life that so obviously brings you great joy.”

  Quinn stared at her. “Umm... I just nearly drowned during a fight with––”

  “Oh pish-posh, Callaghan. You love the risks, the dangers, the whole thing. You wear it on your face. I see it in your eyes. You can’t fool me. You truly enjoy the life of a pirate. There is nothing wrong with admitting it. It doesn’t make you lesser in my eyes.”

  Quinn looked out over the men dancing, drinking, and laughing at each other’s shenanigans, and she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. She just couldn’t see herself living on land anymore, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t spend her entire life pretending to be a seaman. As much as she enjoyed this life, she couldn’t figure out how to keep it going.

  Shea took her hand and squeezed it. “I know we were just little girls that day we swore we would never let a pirate take us, but thank you for keeping your promise to me.”

  Quinn smiled slightly, thinking of the irony of it all. “Kennedy thought me a fool.”

  “She has never possessed your moral fiber, my dearest friend. You saved me, Quinn. You risked everything to come after me.”

  “You would have done the same for me.”

  “Would I? I’m not so sure I could have even if I wanted to.”

  “You’d have found a way.”

  Shea smiled. “Like you did?”

  “You are worth it, Shea, and I would do it again without question. I love you, you know? You are like family to me.”

  “I am family. I have learned a great deal about what makes a family, and it isn’t blood. It is... much more than that.” She waved her hand toward a group of men who were seeing who could pee the farthest. “For better or worse, these ruffians are your family now.”

  Quinn swayed slightly.

  “Are you all right? You look unwell.”

  Quinn closed her eyes. “I don’t feel so well. It’s probably just from swallowing so much sea water.”

  “Or drinking too much Portuguese wine.”

  Quinn forced a smile. “Yes. There’s that. Don’t worry about me, Shea. So much has happened in the last few days, I think it’s all catching up to me. I’ll be fine.”

  Problem was, she wasn’t.

  At all.

  And the next thing she knew, voices faded in and out like a beam of moonlight trying to come through branches of a swaying tree.

  Where was she?

  What had happened?

  One minute, she was talking with Shea, and then... darkness.

  “... fever... rash... ”

  Where was she?

  Whose voice was that?

  So soothing... so caring... but she could not seem to open her eyes to see the face speaking the words.

  “... water...vomiting... ”

  No... two voices. The second, she recognized. It was Shea. Shea was speaking in hushed whispers to another woman.

  Was it Grace?

  “She’s not as hot as she’s been,” came the comforting voice as a hand touched her cheeks and forehead. “That’s good.”

  “Perhaps because you have not left her side but to sleep for a moment. She is out of danger now. Please. Rest.”

  “I will. I just need to––”

  “You need to rest. I’ll stay with... ”

  Quinn faded out again, her body sweaty, her muscles aching. Her entire being felt heavy and fatigued, like her arms had when she’d rescued that pirate... what was her name?

  Whatever was wrong with her, it was bad. She could not seem to think in a straight line.

  “Shea... ”

  A hand stroked her head. “I’m here, Quinn. I’m here. You just rest. Sleep. You’re safe now. You’re in good hands. I won’t... ”

  Out she went.

  When she woke up again, she had no idea if it was day or night.

  How long she’d been asleep, she could not tell, but the hand that caressed her head now also traced her bisected eyebrow with tender fingertips.

  “Shea... ”

  “Shh. She’s sleeping. I’m here, love, and we’re taking good care of you. You are going to be fine, love. Just rest.”

  Quinn sighed. Her body was gone. An angel was tending to her... an angel with Fiona’s voice.

  “Shh... you need to rest, sweetheart.”

  Fiona?

  How did she get on the ship? And where was that sexy Moroccan pirate?

  Morocco.

  Quinn tried to get her eyes to open. She willed her lids to rise, but, like the rest of her body, they refused to cooperate.

  “... typhus... infection... ” a warm hand caressed her face.

  Fade out.

  Fade in.

  Fade out.

  Fade back in.

  The hand lovingly touched her cheeks once more.

  “... needs to drink... ”

  Quinn had no concept of time, but the dryness of her mouth and the emptiness of her stomach told her it had been quite a few days.

  “Drink some wat
er,” the soothing voice said, a goblet of water pressed against her lips. It sounded like Fiona, but how could it be her when Fiona had never been on a ship?

  Slowly, Quinn’s eyes cracked open. She immediately regretted it as the light felt like it had reached in and burned her. She closed her eyes before she could see the face of her nurse.

  “Stop struggling. You are as safe as you can be, and you are over the worst of it.”

  Quinn sipped the water. It felt cool and comforting as it slid down her throat. She took a few more sips before lowering herself back to the bed.

  “Rest. I’ll let nothing happen to you. You contracted... ”

  Fade back out.

  Fade in.

  Voices around her.

  Quinn carefully opened one eye.

  Darkness. A single light source burning on a table. A candle?

  A hand on her cheek.

  “Her fever’s gone.” Shea. It was Shea. She was sure of it this time.

  “Thank god.”

  “God did not save her. We did. I cannot thank you enough for all you’ve done. She might have died had you not sent someone for Bronwen so quickly.”

  “Your captain was wise to bring her here, but I believe it was your voice that kept her grounded to the earth to stay with us.”

  Quinn closed her one eye and sighed. “Shea... ” The only voice she recognized.

  “I’m here, Quinn.”

  “Where... is here?” Her voice did not even sound like her own; her lips moved, but she could barely feel them.

  Long pause.

  “Shea?”

  “Shh. Conserve your strength.”

  “What’s... what’s wrong with me?”

  “Typhus. But we’ll talk later. Sleep. Rest.”

  “How... long?”

  “Ten days, but you’re through the the worst part. It moved on to find another victim.”

  Quinn nodded and fell back to sleep.

  When she woke up again, her body no longer ached and the fever was gone. A hand gently played with her hair.

  Slowly opening her eyes, Quinn waited for the face looking at her to come into focus. When it did, her heart seized.

  Fiona.

  “There you are,” Fiona said softly. “You had us worried, my love. So so worried.” Tears sprang into her eyes.

  Quinn started to pull up the covers, but Fiona lightly laid her hand on top of hers.