Shiver Her Timbers: The Plundered Chronicles Page 7

  Quinn nodded, but did not respond. Instead, she kicked her horse lightly to get a faster pace going. She didn’t think they would be able to make it back to the dock before dark, but she had to try. The Englishmen were bound and gagged under the tarp, but they would be coming around soon enough. That could be problematic when they did.

  They rode in silence for some ways; the wagon clattering along really slowed them down, but Becca proved to be tougher and more resilient than Quinn gave her credit for, and it appeared they would make it back to the docks before dark.

  They were not far from the water when Becca turned, reins in hand, and said, “Ya oughtta go to her now, ya know? Time’s gettin’ close.”

  Quinn stared straight ahead. “I know, but I cannot. Already, the Englishmen are coming round. I must take care of this first and foremost.”

  It took a moment before Becca replied. “Ya will likely never forgive yerself if ennathin’ happens to her. I know how important Grace is to ya, but ya can’t leave poor Fiona in case the worst happens. She’ll never forgive ya, and ya will never forgive yerself. I wish ya’d reconsider.”

  Quinn barely nodded. “I know, but my duty to Grace O’Malley comes first.”

  “Always?”

  Quinn nodded. “Always. I am a pirate first and foremost, Becca. I cannot turn my back on this in order to hold Fiona’s hand no matter how much I might want to.” Quinn paused a moment, letting her own words sink in.

  They went a little further before Becca said, “When we first met, ya were a faux pirate—a woman pretendin’ to be a man. But now... now ya truly are a pirate if ya can miss the birth of yer beloved’s child in exchange fer dumpin’ bodies out to sea. I hope ya understand what all ya are givin’ up to remain this pirate, my love, because Fiona needs ya now maybe more than she ever has.”

  “I am a trusted member of our queen’s crew, Becca. With that comes a great deal of responsibility. It isn’t a choice I’m making. It was made for me the moment I stepped on board the Malendroke.”

  “Oh, love, but it is. Whether or not ya ever wish to admit it, that captain is yer mistress, the sea yer monarch. The rest of us are merely bit players––somethin’ fer ya to do in between piratin’ adventures.”

  Now Quinn turned to her. “Bit players? If this were true, why would either of you stay?”

  Becca sighed. “Stayin’ is our job, Callaghan. We anchor ya to the land. Without us, ya might never have the balance ya need to stay alive. We both know it. We spoke about it together when ya were sick all those years ago.

  Quinn stared ahead, Becca’s words banging into each other in her head. “I’ve never thought of it in such a manner.”

  “Of course ya haven’t. Ya. Are. A. Pirate. I would guess that the only time ya truly think about either of us is when yer on yer way back from some peril and have an itch that needs scratchin’.”

  Quinn’s silence prompted a chuckle from Becca. “See? Ya cannot even deny it.”

  “That has little to do with how I feel about you.”

  “Which is what?”

  Quinn blinked. There seemed to be something caught in her throat, and she was pretty certain it was the unspoken truth.

  Becca slapped the reins so the horses picked up speed. “Ya feel fer us when it is convenient. Do not get me wrong, my love. Our... arrangement suits me just fine. But Fiona? She has it all. She has a family and a husband who loves her. She has money, power, land, family connections... everrathin’. If ya continue to put her second to Grace, it is only a matter of time before it wears thin and she leaves ya once and fer all.”

  Quinn fully turned in the saddle. “And why would you care? If Fiona were no longer in my life––”

  “I would seldom, if ever, see ya.” Becca locked eyes with Quinn, something unreadable behind them. “It is yer love of and need fer Fiona that brings ya to shore. I have always known that. Do I wish yer feelins fer me were that strong? At times, yes, but at the end of everra day, at the conclusion of each journey, I know whose bed ya will come to before ya head out once more. Fer now, that is enough.”

  Enough.

  The word was a dagger to Quinn’s heart. Was her presence, or lack of it, making Becca feel less than? Did she go through her day believing she wasn’t enough? And if that was true, how could Quinn keep doing that to her?

  “Maybe I need to––”

  “No ya don’t, Callaghan. Ya don’t back away from me because ya think it would be better fer me. No sir. Ya do not. Ya do whatever it is ya need to do fer yer life, but ya do not get to make decisions fer me.”

  Quinn turned when she heard men coming toward them. It was One Eye with eleven others.

  “Kwame said ya needed a ship and a crew, eh, Callaghan?” One Eye asked, grinning.

  “Aye. We need to get this cargo on board without ennaone bein’ the wiser and we have to do so quickly, man.”

  One Eye turned to look at the horizon. “It’ll be dark soon. We can load them up then.”

  “Excellent. Tell the men to be prepared to shove off at dusk.”

  “They’re ready, Callaghan. All we need is that cargo.”

  “Then would ya take the wagon so I can deposit Becca off at the tavern?”

  “Oh, aye.” One Eye hopped onto the sideboard. “Permission to commandeer the wagon, miss?”

  Becca nodded once. “She’s all yers.” With that, she threw her leg over Quinn’s saddle and wrapped her arms around Quinn’s waist. “Let’s away, shall we, lover?”

  Urging her horse on, Quinn headed for the Oxtail Inn with one woman against her back, one in her heart, and one on her mind.

  * * *

  The bodies made loud kerplunking sounds when they hit the water, quickly disappearing beneath the busy waves. When the last one vanished from sight, Quinn strode over to the bound and gagged Englishmen who had witnessed the scene. Connor stood over the men, hand casually resting on the hilt of his sword.

  “There. Now that that’s done, which of ya will be the first to follow them?” Quinn leaned over. “Ennaone. Ennaone at all?”

  The men looked at each other, eyes wide with a combination of fear and loathing.

  One Eye walked up to the oldest of the men and pulled out a long, sharp knife and held the blade to his cheek. “Well, since ya don’t want to use ’em, we’ll take yer tongues. Did ya know a man can bleed to death through his tongue? Yep. That is, of course, if ya don’t drown in yer own blood first.”

  It was the younger of the men who spoke up. “Stop. Just stop. Whattya want to know?”

  The older man turned so quickly, the blade cut his cheek. “Shut yer mouth, boy.”

  “I’m not dyin’ fer two countries I don’t give a bloody horse turd about. We were to get those bodies to Mary of Scots. We failed. No reason fer us to die fer it.”

  Quinn stood tall in front of him and jerked her head at One Eye, who removed the blade. “To what end?”

  “To place the blame on yer leaders, of course. To show the Scots how barbaric ya people really are. Elizabeth wants Mary to turn on ya.”

  “In other words, to start a war between Scotland and us.”

  He shrugged. “Come what may. It is not my place to explain why Her Majesty does what she does.”

  Quinn blew out a breath. “Thank ya. I appreciate yer honesty. I wasn’t expectin’ it, to be frank.”

  “They’re gonna kill us ennaway, ya moron,” one of the men said. “Keep yer stupid yap shut.” This came from the older man.

  “Actually, I am not.” Quinn pulled out a couple pieces of paper. “If ya sit still, and keep yer eyes on the top of my head, ya have my word I will release ya unharmed.”

  The older man chuffed. “The word of a bloody Irish pirate who follows a bitch to the sea?”

  One Eye moved so swiftly, no one could have stopped him. With his short blade, he sliced off the old man’s ear.

  “Son of a –– ya barbarian!”

  “Enough, One Eye.” Quinn skewered the ear and held it up
to the Englishman’s face. “The word of a pirate is about all ya have at the moment my friend.” She nodded to Connor, who held the man’s bleeding head still.

  “Ya cut off my fuckin’ ear!”

  “It’ll be yer nose next. Be respectful of Callaghan or ya will wind up in pieces at the bottom of the sea, One Eye growled.

  Blood ran down the old man’s neck. “Respect an Irish pirate? Let me outta these ropes and earn my respect, boy.”

  Quinn slowly shook her head. “I wish ya hadn’t said that.” Turning from him, Quinn waved her hand in the air to Connor. “Throw him over.”

  One Eye and Connor grabbed the old man roughly and yanked him to his feet.

  “Wait! No! Fine! Fine! I apologize! Don’t throw me over! Please. I got a family.”

  Quinn motioned for the two pirates to stop. “Verra well. Then have a seat and do as I said, and all of ya will be dropped off at Penn an Wlas, where ya will be free to go.” Quinn moved a lantern closer to her. “But speak ill of our captain again, and all of ya will go into the drink. All of ya.”

  The young man stared at her. “Go? Ya would let us go?”

  “Aye. Scurry back to Elizabeth like the rats ya are and tell her the Irish won’t fall prey to her schemes. If she wants us, she’s gonna have to fight us straight up.”

  The younger one nodded, but the old man chuckled. “Are ya daft enough to threaten the queen of England?”

  “Not just me. The whole of Ireland. Just tell her. Tell her the Irish have no desire to be her lap dog and to back off. Now, once more, look at me.”

  The men did as they were told.

  Sitting on the deck, Quinn sketched each face until she had them as complete as she could. When she finished, she rose and studied her drawings beneath the lantern. “These will have to do.” To One Eye, she said, “I want two men guardin’ them at all times. If one attempts to escape, kill them all.”

  “Aye. Everra last one a them.”

  With that, Quinn went to the bow of the smaller galley and stood with her hands behind her back, loving the feel of the wind on her face. Several women’s faces floated by her mind’s eye, but only one smiled at her.

  “Hang on, my love,” Quinn whispered as she’d done every night since Fiona told her she was once again with child. “I’ll be there shortly.”

  This side trip away from Fiona was taking far longer than she was comfortable with, and if Fiona delivered or had issues and Quinn wasn’t there again... Quinn couldn’t even bear the thought.

  But that was the greatest issue with all of this gadding about. How often had Fiona needed her and Quinn was out to sea? How many times had Quinn missed an important event in Fiona’s life because she was on board the Malendroke? How could she possibly sustain any relationship when she was coming and going?

  “Something troubling you, Callaghan?”

  Quinn half turned to find Kwame. He was hard to see in the darkness, but being on ships in the middle of the sea at night had sharpened her senses dramatically.

  “There’s much on my mind these days, Kwame.”

  “You do not doubt what we are about to do? You are preparing to send a message to the queen of England that we spat in her shoes. I am not even sure that is an act the captain would have done.”

  “Maybe not. Perhaps once Elizabeth sees we are not as easily manipulated as the Scots, she’ll return her attention to them.”

  “I can understand why she would want to pull them to her. After all, they share the same island, but we do not. To poke that dog in the eye at this time might not be wise.”

  Quinn shook her head. “The captain is doing what she needs to do, and so am I, and it is high time we let the English queen know we Irish bite back.”

  “Aye, we do, but that woman is as greedy as her father was. No, we will have to face her sooner or later.”

  They stood quietly together for some time before Quinn turned her head. “Is there something you need to share?”

  Kwame remained silent for so long, Quinn began to wonder if he’d heard her.

  “I fear I might incur your wrath.”

  Quinn stared straight ahead––a trick she’d learned from her years with Grace. “How so?”

  “A husband leaving his wife alone when there are strangers in town is not a good husband.”

  “You checked on William while waiting for Becca and me to arrive.” It was not a question.

  Kwame shrugged. “You must have as many eyes and ears in port as the captain.”

  Quinn hid her smile. “No. Actually, it is precisely what I would have done in your position, and you would have disappointed me if you hadn’t. What did you discover about William’s purported business?”

  “I expected to find him with a whore or another woman.”

  “And you did not.” Again, it was not a question.

  “I wish I had. Then I could have killed him and been done with it. No, William was not with a woman. Worse. He had a meeting with Deputy Sidney.”

  Slowly turning back around, Quinn waited for more.

  “The deputy came back to restore Calvagh O’Donnell to his place and to establish an English garrison financially. He continues to be pro-England. He supports the Tudor plantation and the move to plant the English in eastern Ulster.”

  Quinn flexed her neck back and forth. “The Tudor intention to assimilate our upper class in an effort to subjugate those beneath them will never go away.” She used her regular verbiage with Kwame, who was far more educated than most of the crew since he had been raised on an English trading vessel. As a child, he had been a voracious reader and was therefore one of the few men Quinn could speak freely with without editing her vocabulary.

  “And what if they succeed?”

  Quinn rocked back and forth. “They might very well, but we’ll never be English. Never.”

  The wind died down suddenly, as it was wont to do.

  “William is hedging his bets that Elizabeth will succeed. I hear he has Sidney in his pocket. He wants a title and the deputy will give him one. Sidney tosses those out to every Englishman who wants one, and William does.”

  “Well, be that as it may, as long as the man continues to take care of Shea, I’ll have no grudge with him and neither will you.” Quinn stepped closer. “Neither. Will. You.”

  Many minutes went by without a reply, to the point that Quinn thought she was alone.

  Finally, when Kwame spoke, his tone was much different. “If he puts Shea in harm’s way, Callaghan, you’d best step to the side because no man––not you, not her father, not the pope–– will stop me from dealing him a blow he’ll not recover from. Are we clear on that?”

  Quinn didn’t answer.

  She didn’t need to.

  As long as Kwame was alive, Shea would forever be safe, and that was all that mattered.

  * * *

  There were no incidences with their English prisoners when they dropped them off on a small Scottish island north of Ireland. Untied and without weapons, the men hung their heads in silence as they walked off the ramp. With strong headwinds, Quinn and company made it back to Galway in seven hours and into the dock before two o’clock.

  As the galley pulled into the bay, One Eye called for Quinn to look through her scope.

  Pulling out the telescope Grace had given her two years ago, Quinn surveyed the dock to see what it was that had caught One Eye’s attention.

  It was Becca.

  Waving a huge flag.

  Quinn lowered the telescope and began barking orders. “Get this thing in as fast as ya can, boys! Heave ho!”

  The men put their backs into it and quickly maneuvered the smaller galley into the dock.

  When Quinn hustled off the ship, Becca met her on the pier, her eyes big and worry lines etched across her face.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s Fiona! It’s her time. I have the fastest horse I could find behind the tavern. Ya must hurry, Callaghan. It... it does not bode well.”

&nb
sp; Quinn’s greatest fear was reflected back to her in Becca’s eyes. “Is she––”

  “The babe has turned, Callaghan. If they cannot get it out, they will both die. Hurry! Waste not one second.”

  Quinn was on the dapple-grey and spurring it forward, riding faster than the wind twenty seconds later. Head low, she urged the horse over fences, creeks, and anything else in their way.

  Fear like she’d never before experienced flooded through her as she rode low and fast. While losing another babe might destroy Fiona, losing Fiona would wreck Quinn in ways she couldn’t imagine. And to not be there when she had promised her she would was like a hot dagger in Quinn’s heart. Had she chosen the wrong woman to help out this time, or was this just the fate of their bizarre relationship?

  When she reached the garden of the Moynihan castle, Quinn was off the dapple-grey before she even came to rest.

  As she landed, two guards had drawn down on her.

  “Easy there, fella, where do you think you’re going?”

  It took Quinn a moment to realize she had not changed her attire.

  “It is I, you boobs. Can you not tell?”

  Both men blinked and stared before the taller one leaned forward and finally said, “Mistress Quinn. Yes! My apologies. It’s just... your attire.”

  “Never mind that. Where is she?” Quinn had already taken off for Fiona’s chambers.

  “In m’lady’s chambers—”

  On legs that felt more like noodles, Quinn rushed up the stairs and passed the wide-eyed gazes of the servants and Robert, who sputtered unintelligibly, until finally she burst through the chamber door.

  Lying on the bed with two women holding her legs apart was a very pale Fiona.

  “I’m here,” Quinn said, kneeling down at her side. “I am here.”

  Sweat dotted Fiona’s forehead, her eyes filled with pain and... something else.

  “You... came.”

  “Of course I came. I promised you.” Stroking Fiona’s damp head, Quinn leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  Robert marched into the room and was opening his mouth to yell something at Quinn when his gaze caught sight of Fiona’s gaping body.