X Marks The Spot (The Plundered Chronicles Book 6) Page 7

  “Well, here I am. Sayyida and I are two of many, I imagine.”

  “And… just what are you?”

  Quinn looked down at her clothes and tried to imagine what it was Ayse saw when she looked at her.

  A woman nearing six feet tall with shoulder length auburn hair dressed like a man, stranding like a man, and who drank and fought like a man – though the latter two Ayse could not see or know, but Quinn was certain her posture gave it away.

  “I am a woman living in a man’s world under my own terms.”

  “And to gain their respect you must appear like them?”

  “At times, yes. I prefer this attire to those of…” Quinn let her voice trail off.

  “Those of a noblewoman.”

  Quinn bowed her head and barely nodded. “Aye.”

  “No uneducated pirate could speak the level of Latin you do.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “You came for me. Why? I am no one to you.”

  Quinn explained why as well as how she’d come to know Sayyida. “Perhaps not, but Sayyida and I have known each other a long time. Sometimes as friends, sometimes as enemies. When she came to me to ask for my help, I came. As she would have done for me.”

  Ayse listened intently, not ever interrupting. When Quinn finished, Ayse reached up and lightly caressed Quinn’s cheek. “You were lovers, weren’t you?”

  Quinn blinked and hesitated.

  “You need not say. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice when you say her name.”

  “We are no longer lovers.”

  This seemed to surprise Ayse. “Then another holds your heart?”

  Quinn started to nod, then thought better of it. “Like Sayyida, my true mistress is the sea.”

  “A poor bedfellow at that, I imagine, but then, loving a sailor is like trying to hold water. Eventually, your hands will be empty no matter how hard you try to keep it in the palm of your hands.”

  Sighing, Quinn nodded once more. “Then you have tried.”

  “And failed, like all the other women born of land. A pirate is a very sexy creature, Captain Callaghan. There is an allure about you that draws people in. Unfortunately, coming in and staying in are quite different, yes?”

  “Aye. Yes.” Quinn waited for the reason behind the visit.

  “So you know who my grandfather is?”

  “Sultan Suleiman.”

  “They call him Suleiman the Magnificent because he is a very powerful man. Superior in every way to European monarchs who bicker and engage in petty rivalries and allow their religion to reign over their rationality.”

  “And yet, you are here in Europe.”

  She grinned. “I am. And now, I am returning with Sayyida. I have come for two reasons. The first, I heard you were a woman like Sayyida, and secondly, I believe my mother might… have use of your services. There might just be a way out of this after all.”

  “My…services?” Quinn’s eyebrows rose in question.

  “Oh, nothing lurid like that, Captain. Presently, this disgusting display of barbaric behavior by Dragut Reis prevents me from removing you from here, but my grandfather will hear all about what has transpired.”

  There was something about the way she spoke that made Quinn trust that she was more than a young woman of some import. Her eyes and words held a wisdom that belied her age. “Why are you and your sister here and how is it Dragut did not know?”

  Ayse stepped closer and lowered her voice. “You are not the only one with secrets, Captain Callaghan. I am here at my grandmother’s request. Do you know of the woman, the European, called Roxelana?”

  “Actually, I have. I understand she is quite a powerful woman.”

  “That, she is. She is very active in the governing of our people. We were on our way to France to meet with their queen when our ship came here for repairs. Two days later, Dragut arrived.”

  “Yet you did not make yourself known to him.”

  “We had our reasons.”

  “I imagine you did. Whatever would you be meeting with Katherine D’Medici about?”

  Ayse grinned. “There is so much to tell you and so little time.”

  “Just why are you here, Ayse? What is it you want from me?”

  “You will find out soon enough. Now, you have my word that you will remain unmolested by Dragut’s men. If my grandfather hears otherwise, there will be more than Italian heads on the poles.” Ayse stepped up and stood on tiptoe to kiss Quinn’s cheek. “Would that there were more women out there like you. Be safe, Captain Callaghan, and I will see you soon.”

  When Ayse was gone, her presence still lingered, and Quinn was left to puzzle out her cryptic words and strange visit.

  The third day after Sayyida had left, the door opened once more to reveal Fatma and a younger version of herself. The two women spoke quietly in Turkish before the young woman nodded and shooed her mother from the cell.

  The young woman was quite beautiful – more so than her mother, with smooth skin and clear, dark eyes. She was much shorter than Quinn and had to look up to make eye contact.

  “I am Beren, daughter of Fatma and Dragut.” She surprised Quinn by bowing her head slightly.

  Quinn bowed at the waist. “Captain Callaghan, but you already knew that.” Her reply was in Latin, the language Beren had opened with.

  “Indeed. May I sit?”

  Quinn motioned with her hand. “Please.”

  “Will you join me?”

  Quinn sat next to her on the small bench. She could feel Beren’s eyes on her as she did so. “To what do I owe this pleasure in the bowels of this disgusting cell?”

  “The other day, my mother brought the Princess here to see you. When she returned, my mother said you were quite a handsome woman and suspected you to have a…peculiar taste in women. Is that true?”

  Quinn could barely contain her surprise and shock at the question. “Peculiar taste?”

  Beren nodded and looked up in thought. “Perhaps I used the wrong word. Preference instead of taste? You have a—”

  “A love of women,” Quinn finished for her.

  “Yes!”

  Locking eyes with the young Turkish woman, Quinn shrugged. “I have no preference, peculiar or otherwise.”

  “No? Were you not once romantic with Sayyida al Hurra?”

  Shit.

  “Those tales are largely exaggerated.” Quinn felt a tiny prickle of warning run up her spine. “We kissed once or twice, but Sayyida al Hurra is not my kind of woman.”

  “I see. I do not mean to offend, Captain. You see…” She furrowed her eyebrows in thought. “If it is a rumor, it is quite widespread and included a story of you stealing her ship.”

  Double shit.

  “Do you think if that were true, I would still be alive? Surely, she would have killed me upon finding me.”

  “I believe women forgive those they love. You arrived here with Sayyida al Hurra, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Quinn hesitated. These women belonged to Dragut. Clearly, they had been sent to gather information. “We came to retrieve the Sultan’s granddaughters and take them home.”

  “So you made a…deal with Sayyida to help her in exchange for passage among the Corsair pirates. Is that so?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “And you believe her.” It was not a question.

  “What point are you coming to, Beren?”

  “Many of my people believe Sayyida al Hurra fell in love with a female pirate and forgave her for spoiling her reputation. I am just trying to see if you are worthy of that forgiveness.”

  Quinn inhaled deeply. The cell stunk of her body odor, rat feces, spoiled food, and mold. “The pirate code is that she would have to kill that pirate to restore her reputation.”

  “So you are saying it wasn’t you. Perhaps it was Grace O’Malley then?”

  Quinn shrugged. “I’ve heard rumors but I know not of whom you speak.”

  “
Yet here you are, in this filthy cell because Sayyida al Hurra asked for your help.” Beren tilted her head. “Then you must love her.”

  “I love my crew. I love my ship. I love the sea. I love Ireland. There are a great many things I love, but Sayyida al Hurra is not one of them. I care for Sayyida. We are friends and allies.”

  Beren slowly rose. Quinn rose with her.

  “I respect the loyalty you have shown to Sayyida al Hurra, Captain. What a good friend and ally you must be.”

  “Is that what you came for?”

  Her smile was enigmatic. “You are a good person, Captain. I will see what I can do to have you moved to more comfortable quarters.”

  “More comfortable quarters? I don’t understand.”

  Beren smiled. “You will.”

  The next day, Quinn was escorted aboard one of Dragut’s ‘home’ ships where his family stayed whenever he was out for long stretches at a time.

  The guard, who did not speak to her, showed her into a room that was colorful, filled with pillows of reds and golds and netting, and incense. A hookah sat in the middle of one room also surrounded by silk pillows. The room was very light and bright for a room on a ship, and Quinn could see it was specially built just for the family.

  Or…

  “Welcome to our—” came a voice from behind her.

  Turning, Quinn faced Fatma. “Harem.” The word just sort of fell from her mouth.

  Fatma covered her mouth as she laughed. She wore a multi-layered dress vibrant with oranges, yellows, and blues. “Our harem is at home. Not on this ship. This is Beren’s room when we are away from Turkey.”

  “It’s…” Quinn faced her. “You speak Latin.”

  Fatma grinned. “We all do. My husband felt it very important we are able to understand the Europeans.”

  “Wise.”

  “Yes, he is. My husband loves his family. It is that love which is why we live on the water for half our lives.”

  “It is very beautiful. The room.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Why am I here?”

  Fatma shook her head slowly. “You Europeans are all alike. No patience.”

  “I apologize. It seems I am at a disadvantage here. One moment I am locked in a dungeon, the next I am in luxury. I suppose it is important to me to know why.”

  “All will be revealed in time. Please. Make yourself comfortable.” With that, she left the room.

  Quinn walked around the room before glancing out the window she could probably get through before checking the door.

  Locked.

  So she wasn’t quite a visitor.

  There were fruits and nuts on a plate with four ornate wine goblets. A full decanter sat in the middle. She cast her gaze toward a large bed protruding from one corner with four posts wrapped in a sheer fabric. Across the bed was what appeared to be men’s lounge wear.

  Lounge wear? For her?

  Quinn had just reached for it when the door opened and in walked Beren wearing the feminine version of the clothes on the bed. “Did you pour yourself some wine?”

  Quinn shook her head. “I’m more of a whiskey drinker, but thank you.” The door closed with a loud click. “Why am I here?”

  Beren poured herself some wine and took a small sip before answering. “I told you I would make you more comfortable. I kept my word.”

  Beren sat in front of the hookah and took another sip of her wine. “I have found so few people interesting in this world, but you, Captain, you are quite the find. You are, in a word, captivating.”

  Quinn looked at the pillows, unsure of whether to stand or sit. Beren made it easy by patting the pillow next to her.

  Sitting down, she watched Beren watch her. “This room, this whole ship, is beautiful.”

  “Indeed. My father spares no expense for his wives and daughters.”

  “So this is where you live away from home.”

  “Yes.”

  “And this is…your room?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. This is where we come to relax and enjoy company.”

  “So I’m… company.”

  Beren turned to Quinn, her full lips curling into a smile. “Oh, you’re much more than that or I would have left you in Vieste, awful little city that it is. Europeans are so dirty.” She lit the hookah and then pulled on the mouthpiece and blew out a cloud of light blue smoke. “You did not like the term peculiar the other day, so I will call it as it is. You are a woman who loves other women.”

  Quinn looked away. She had no idea what being so honest would mean here on a ship owned by a Turkish Pasha, but one thing she was sure of: dishonestly would be a wrong step. “I am that, yes.”

  Beren grinned at her before sucking on the hookah one more time. “Very well. I am glad we’ve cleared that up.”

  Quinn waited for more.

  “To lie with a woman, to be enveloped with her softness must be like Heaven. Tell me about it, please.”

  “You… you want to hear what it is like bedding another woman.”

  Beren leaned in. “Every. Single. Detail.”

  Quinn licked her lips then started. “There is nothing as soft or as delicious as the inner thigh of a woman. It is so soft and delicate, so much so you want to bite it, but you don’t. You softly nibble it as you caress her warmth with your fingers. You can tease a woman for hours, watching her get wetter and more excited with every stroke.” Quinn could practically feel the heat rise in Beren as she spoke.

  “Keep going. Please.”

  Quinn did, and for nearly an hour, she described what making love to a woman was like in intimate detail. Beren sat enraptured, tugging on the hookah mouthpiece in between asking very specific questions.

  When Quinn finished, Beren was glassy-eyed and wearing a huge grin. “You are a fabulous storyteller. In Turkey, great story tellers are revered.”

  “I am an educated pirate. No more, no less.”

  “Oh, but that is where you are wrong, Captain. So very wrong.” Beren scooted closer. “You are charming and sexy, witty and thoughtful. I can understand why so many women would fall in love with you.”

  And right there, Quinn’s suspicions were confirmed: she was now a prisoner of another sort. “Thank you for thinking so, Beren, but that is hardly the truth. A little of me goes a long way, I’m told.”

  Beren was practically in her lap now, her eyes betraying whatever it was in that hookah. “I would gladly settle for just a little piece of you, Captain Callaghan.”

  Yes. There it was.

  “You…er…wh…want to—”

  “Bed you? Oh yes. Yes, I do. More than I have wanted anyone in my life.”

  Quinn blinked. Words escaped her. What had she gotten herself into? While she was no longer in that cell, she was still a prisoner in the lap of luxury. “But… your mother—”

  “Made all of this possible. My mother knows I must marry one day, so she allows me the opportunity to taste forbidden fruit before that happens.”

  Forbidden fruit?

  Quinn nearly choked.

  “I see I’ve caught you off-guard.”

  “Well…uh… of course. This was most… unexpected.”

  “Unexpected yes, but… unwanted?” Beren cocked her head, her glassy eyes unblinking at Quinn.

  The odds of escaping that dungeon were slim compared to the odds of escaping this ship. As long as she stayed on this ship, she had a much greater chance of escaping. There was only one way to answer that question. Closing her eyes, Quinn leaned in and gently kissed Beren’s eager moth.

  The kiss, which started out gentle and sweet, slowly deepened as it went on and on like two lovers who had known each other before and were reluctant to pull away.

  Beren slowly withdrew, her eyes even more glazed and her face flushed. “Oh my, but that was far better than I ever dreamt it would be.”

  Quinn smiled softly. It was a very intimate kiss, to be sure; one she soon followed up with another, only this time, she held Beren’s fac
e in her hands.

  A thousand thoughts raced through Quinn’s mind, none of which she had the answer to.

  When Beren pulled away, she laid her palm on Quinn’s cheek. “I have heard it said that no one can please a woman like another woman. I believe that must be true. Your kisses are… in a word… perfect.” Beren locked eyes with Quinn. “Men are so hard, their kisses and touches so aggressive, but you…” She smiled dreamily. “You know the exact pressure, the perfect amount of tongue, the right time to end it.” Closing her eyes, Beren sat still with her palm still on Quinn’s cheek.

  Suddenly, there came a knock on the door and the guard spoke through it.

  “Please excuse me.” Beren slowly rose, opened the door a crack, and spoke in hushed tones to him. When the door closed, she made her way over to the bed and picked up the attire. “I would like to bathe you before you put these on.”

  “Bathe me?” Quinn felt slightly dizzy and wondered if it was from the clouds of smoke lingering in the center of the room.

  “It is what we do to show respect and honor. Muslims wash our hands, feet, faces, and necks before entering the temple as a show of great respect. I wish to do so for you.”

  Again, Quinn saw no other option but to play along with this strange scene. “Would you not prefer to bathe with me?”

  Beren’s eyes grew wide. “What a lovely idea. Perhaps next time. For now, I would like to show you our ways.”

  An hour later, a tub was brought in and filled with hot water that took a dozen or so trips in and out of the room before it was halfway filled.

  When she was a young noblewoman, Quinn took warm baths several times a week, but as a pirate, it was more like a few times a year if she was lucky.

  When the last bucket was poured into the tub, Beren spoke softly to the guard, who nodded before backing out of the room.

  “Come,” Beren said, reaching her hands out to Quinn.

  Standing in front of the tub, Quinn watched in silence as Beren’s fingers methodically worked at the buttons on her shirt.

  When the shirt was completely open, Beren took a quick breath and uttered something in Turkish. Placing her hands on Quinn’s waist, she slowly moved them up her naked skin until they rested just beneath her pert breasts. “Such soft skin I have never felt before,” she said, almost to no one in particular. Gently cupping one breast in her right hand, she seemed to be gauging its weight or size.