X Marks The Spot (The Plundered Chronicles Book 6)

by Alex Westmore

  “Aye. For bringing a crew together. It matters not what they’ve done in their past. I am not their judge and I do not know of their guilt or conscience. What I do know is how to build a crew that will work together, fight together, and live together, so I will accept your gracious offer as soon as I consult with my men.”

  “And when you do, come meet me at my ship. We are docked behind your ship. Have dinner with me.”

  Quinn smiled and stepped away. “Just dinner.”

  “Aw, Callaghan, your reluctance to enjoy physical dalliance with me hurts my heart, but yes, just dinner if you wish. We have much to discuss.”

  “We do?”

  Sayyida’s smile pierced the darkness. “Oh yes, my love, we certainly do.”

  The meal on the table before her was fit for a queen – which was precisely what Sayyida al Hurra Bint Ali Ibn Rashid al-Alami, Hakimat Titwan, queen of Tetuan was. There were kebabs, baklava, söbiyet, rice, vegetables, and cheese.

  Quinn had finished off her first kebab before Sayyida began. “I had my cook make us my favorite dishes. I hope you enjoy them.”

  “By the way I devoured that first stick, I’d say I loved it. Very tasty. Your spices are subtle yet powerful all at the same time.”

  Sayyida patted her mouth with a napkin. “Indeed. Our dishes here are sublime.” She pushed her plate away. “I understand you and Haseki communicated about the group.”

  “The group. You speak cautiously, my friend.”

  “I must, as you by now well know.”

  Quinn continued eating. “I do. Why did you really want me here, Sayyida?”

  Leaning forward, she lowered her voice. “A messenger is coming to Tangiers. She will be carrying a message specifically for you.”

  “How do you know it’s for me?”

  “Because Haseki told me to expect a messenger for you and that I was to take said messenger to you in Ireland, but since you are here, it makes it easier for everyone by staying until the messenger arrives. Please stay.”

  Quinn looked up from her food. “Now there’s a word that seldom finds passage through your lips.”

  Sayyida locked eyes with her for a long moment before she laughed. “Only you would deign to speak to me thusly, my love, but yes. If please will get you to stay, then I will offer a thousand pleases.”

  “One will suffice. I will take you up on your offer to train my criminals and let my men know it is a break for them to enjoy Tangiers.”

  “Your criminals. It makes me nervous to think of you with all of those low-brow men.”

  “We are all pirates, Sayyida. No one is lower than us.”

  “I love how you think, my sweet one. Then tomorrow, at noon, we will meet your crew at the dock and work with them on your ship, the Karga.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask. What does it mean? Karga?”

  “Crow.”

  “Nice. We will be there. Noon.” Quinn continued eating. “And then my Irish crew will need to release some pent up energy, if you know what I mean.”

  “Our harems have the most beautiful of women. I’m quite certain your men will enjoy our women and our wine.”

  “Not to mention your food,” Quinn said, talking with her mouth full.

  “Yes. There is that. Can I interest you in some very splendid Moroccan sweets?”

  Quinn gazed unto Sayyida’s eyes. She knew very well what she meant.

  But saying no to any queen was always difficult. To say no to one as sexy and passionate as Sayyida after three goblets of Spanish wine, nigh impossible.

  Not long after dinner, Quinn found herself in Sayyida’s bed having “Moroccan sweets.”

  “Beni delirtiyorsun askim.” Sayyida raised her hips as Quinn licked her from stem to stem, while slowly moving her fingers in and out of Sayyida’s very warm, very wet slit.

  “Callaghan…” Sayyida grabbed Quinn’s hair and held her face to her as she grinded on Quinn’s face.

  The orgasm was loud, long, and left little to the imagination. And when Sayyida’s hips finally lowered back to the bed, Quinn wiped her face on the linen as she crawled up on top of Sayyida.

  “No one knows how to do that better than you, my Irish lover.”

  “I doubt you allow enna one to get close enough to be able to.” Laying half on and half off Sayyida, Quinn gently caressed her hair. It had always been the softest hair she’s ever touched.

  “You know me too well, Callaghan. It is true. I have had many lovers, men and women, but I do not allow them into my heart the way I do you.”

  “You trust me.”

  Sayyida raised up on her elbow. “I do. Do you?”

  “Trust you? Absolutely. You could have killed me for stealing your ship, but you did not.”

  Sayyida grinned and leaned in to kiss Quinn. “I meant, do you trust you? Do you have any idea how much the group must trust in order to preserve their safety? They are prepared to trust you – as I do – but it a great responsibility. The secrets we all possess keep us in constant danger.”

  Quinn blew out a breath. “I do trust myself, Sayyida. I would have to in order to take on a ship of hooligans, aye?”

  “I suppose so, but I want you to understand your power, my love. You affect people. Men want to follow you, women want to bed you. It is your charm, your integrity, and your deep-seated loyalty that draws them like moths to a flame. That is why the group chose you. When the messenger arrives, you’re going to have to make a decision that will change your life forever.”

  Quinn’s eyebrows furrowed. “Because I’ll be someone’s messenger?”

  Sayyida’s face transitioned to one of excitement. “No. Because you will become part of history, my love. You are an educated, well-travelled woman. Piracy can hold your interest only so long. Even now, I think it means less to you than keeping your men together, happy, and healthy.”

  Quinn could not disagree. The tedium of pillaging was wearing thin. “Well, let’s see what this messenger brings and then we can see if it works with me and my men.”

  “Your men will follow you through the depths of Hell and you know as much. This isn’t about them, my love. It’s about you. Just ask yourself what you wish to be doing if not pillaging and plundering. Being part of something that could very well change the world is heady business. It is something to think about.”

  Quinn kissed Sayyida for a long time before pulling away. “I do not have to think about it any longer, Sayyida. I know what I need to do.”

  “So do I.” Sayyida quickly rolled Quinn over and returned the favor, bringing Quinn to a swift, if not someone loud climax.

  The next morning, as Quinn and Tavish watched the Irishmen train the Turks in close-quarter fighting, Tavish leaned closer to her and whispered, “Please tell me yer not gonna be Sayyida’s lover again, lad. That’s a bad, bad idea.”

  Quinn did not look at him. “No, Tavish, I am not.”

  “Then what’s got ya so deep in thought?”

  Quinn stepped away from the action and pulled Tavish with her before explaining everything to him. When she finished, he nodded and spit overboard. “Well, seems to me ya already broke one a the rules by confidin’ in a man.”

  “Aye, but you’re not just enna man, Tavish McGee. You’re my best friend and I trust your advice.”

  Tavish chucked. “Oh laddie, the advice ya need is my wife’s, so I’ll try to give ya what I think she’d say. I think, for once, Sayyida is right about ya needin’ a bigger purpose. Ya’ve outgrown piratin’ fer the sake of it. Some people are roots, some are leaves. Yer a grower… a doer. Ya want to see the world and be part of the change. Problem is, yer the captain of a buncha roots. All they ken is being pirates. If ya can mix the two up like ya’ve been doin’, everra body will be happy. If not, ya need to cut the boys loose to make their own choice. But if piratin’ doesna make yer heart sing, they’ll ken it fer sure.”

  “I can’t even imagine not being your captain enna more, but I cannot lie to you, my friend.”
<
br />   “No one says ya have to, but ya do have to let the crew ken what yer thinkin’. They’re loyal to ya, lad. Ya owe them as much of the truth as ya can give. Not the whole truth, mind ya, but enough so’s they can make their own choices.”

  “I appreciate your honesty, old friend.”

  Tavish chuckled. “Lad, I told ya that was what my Maggie would say. My response is a bit different.”

  Quinn couldn’t help but smile. “Let’s hear it then.”

  “Yer our captain. Make decisions based on what is best fer the crew. Doona second guess it. Doona doubt it. As long as yer best interest is in our men, ya can never go wrong.”

  Quinn draped her arm across his shoulders. “I think I prefer your advice.”

  Tavish smiled. “Yer more like us than ya are like her. Remember that.”

  “Yo, Captain!” one of her men yelled from The Edge. “Captain Sayyida says to meet her on the bow!”

  Nodding, Quinn told Tavish to feed and whiskey the two ships and prepare them for travel in the morning.

  “Yer not gonna wait fer the messenger?”

  Quinn shook her head. “I believe the messenger is already here.”

  When Quinn entered Sayyida’s captain’s quarters, she knew her hunch was correct.

  “Callaghan, this is Marie La Fontaine, the woman I spoke to you about.”

  Quinn bowed and pulled out the third chair from the small table in Sayyida’s quarters. “Please. Sit. Can we get you something to drink? Wine perhaps?”

  The woman looked to Sayyida. “This… this is not… Grace O’Malley, is it?”

  Sayyida shook her head. “No. She trained under Grace.”

  Marie’s face transformed to one of understanding. “She is the protégé?”

  “Better than that. Quinn is not as attached to Ireland as Grace is. She has been chosen by the group because of her many talents.”

  “Ah. Excellent. She suspected my contact would be the pirate queen and she had misgivings about that.” Marie turned to Quinn, her eyes travelling up and down Quinn’s body. “Fascinating, the penchant for wearing men’s clothing, swinging a sword and taking their lives. I would imagine that the future will not look kindly on your position.”

  Quinn threw her shoulders back and locked eyes with her. “Bold words coming from a woman who is but a messenger.”

  Sayyida sucked in her breath. Marie’s expression did not change.

  “Callaghan—”

  Marie held up a gloved hand to stop Sayyida’s words. “No, no. Do not chastise this poor girl because she speaks with ignorance, Sayyida al Hurra. She clearly does not know—”

  Quinn glowered at her now and spoke in fluent and flawless French. “First off, I am no girl, m’lady. I am many things, but not that.”

  “I meant only—”

  “If comfort and power are ignorant, then yes, indeed, I am. If leadership and physical activity are ignorant, then I most certainly must be. If speaking five languages fluently, travelling the globe, and aiding monarchs makes me stupid, then carve the word into my head.” The words were icicles dripping with cold water.

  Marie tilted her head, her eyes dancing. “Oh my. It seems I have offended her.”

  “Not offended, little messenger. Underestimated, and there are hundreds of bones at the bottom of the sea of men who did the same.” Quinn turned to Sayyida. “What is wrong with the bloody French?”

  Sayyida, wide-eyed, could only shrug.

  A slow grin inched across Marie’s face. “Oh yes. She will do quite nicely, Sayyida. Quite nicely, indeed.”

  “Do?” Quinn said harshly. “Did it ever occur to you that I might not wish to do ennathing for your little tea party?”

  “Callaghan, please.”

  Quinn held her hand up. “No, Sayyida, let me finish. I lead nearly four hundred men, none of whom have ever spoken to me as disrespectfully as you have. I do not suffer fools so if you are representative of this group, then I must respectfully bow out.”

  “My dear Captain. Do you not believe respect ought to be earned?”

  “I believe, Madame La Fontaine, that respect is one of the things most required for honest communication.”

  “Interesting. A pirate who speaks of honesty. How very unexpected. Then let’s speak honestly, shall we? You are a woman on the fringe of society. With abnormal taste for female flesh and an unwavering loyalty to those you serve, you’ve never managed to display such loyalty with the unfortunate women who love you. You are Irish, yet your closest friend is a Scotsman. A man. You are single, yet you are raising another woman’s child. You have a noble family you seldom see, a castle you do not own, and women in many ports who can want you, but cannot ever truly have you. In all honesty, Captain Callaghan, the loyalty and respect you speak of is a one way road where women are concerned. How did I do?” Marie pushed an empty goblet to the center of the table. “I’m drinking whatever you two are having.”

  Sayyida uncorked a very fancy bottle and poured dark liquid into three goblets. “To friendship,” she toasted before gulping hers down in one continuous drink.

  “Aye,” Quinn said, doing the same.

  Marie wasn’t as successful in gulping hers and spit most of it back in the goblet. “What is that?”

  “It is called raki,” Sayyida answered. “It is a drink made from grapes, figs, and plums. You do not like it?”

  “It is…different. I suspected it was wine. I ought to have inquired first.” To Quinn she repeated. “Well? How did my sources do in describing you?”

  Quinn wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She quickly glanced over at Sayyida, who raised her eyebrows. “Not horribly.”

  Marie chuckled. “We cannot afford one weak link or we are all doomed.” Sipping the raki, Marie grinned. “That’s actually quite tasty.”

  “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Madame. You seem to know a great deal about me but I know nothing of you save your elitist and somewhat off-putting demeanor.”

  “Come now, Captain, surely you are somewhat impressed by our information gathering.”

  Sayyida cleared her throat. “If I may. Callaghan has not made her decision about the group, and you’ve done little more than antagonize a very powerful leader. Perhaps you ought to tell her what it is you need from her so she can make a decision one way or the other.”

  Marie sipped more reki. “The only information I can give you is that you need to sail to Calais and go to a tavern in the center of down called La Perdix et la Poire.”

  “The Partridge and the Pear. And do what?”

  “Ask for Lisette. Tell her you want the black wine. She will give you further directions.”

  “Wait. You do not have my directions?”

  “I do not. I, as you have pointed out, am nothing but a lowly messenger.”

  Quinn already rose. “Then I am sorry to have wasted your time. I cannot place my men in a situation I know nothing about.”

  “Of course you can. It is Calais, after all. French women your pack of thieves would pay handsomely to bed. No one can sate a man’s hunger for women like a French whore. Go ahead. Ask them. If they say no, our business here is concluded. If they say yes, then you are to leave as soon as tomorrow morning. Time is of the essence, I’m afraid.”

  Quinn glanced over at Sayyida, who barely shrugged. “She is not exaggerating about the whores there, Callaghan. They are quite the treat for male appetite.”

  “Fine. I’ll ask my men tonight. If they wish to go, we will sail at dawn.”

  Marie clapped. “Most excellent. You would be a welcome addition to us with all of your Irish bravado and pirate ways.” She turned to Sayyida. “Sayyida, I will let her know you chose well with this one. Brash, abrasive, and yet still somewhat polished. She will be able to go places many others could not.”

  Sayyida did not smile. “Marie, this one means a great deal to me. Do not place her in any more danger than is necessary. Making an enemy out of Sayyida al Hurra is never a wise idea.”<
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  Marie chuckled softly. “And here I thought you pirates lived for danger.”

  “Lived,” Quinn said, starting for the door, “is the operative word.”

  They were on the water right after dawn and looking at a three to five day journey, depending on the winds.

  Saying goodbye to Sayyida was harder this time for several reasons. It wasn’t just that the sex was outstanding. No, as good as that was, they became closer because Sayyida had finally forgiven her for making her look bad and for stealing both her ship and her heart. Maybe it was that they now had a higher purpose, but whatever it was, the hug they shared at the dock was long and heartfelt, and already, Quinn was missing her.

  Marie La Fontaine had been correct when she said the crew would love France. It was almost unanimous on The Edge. Completely unanimous on The Crow. Whatever the Turks knew, it must have been good, because they hadn’t stopped talking about it since Quinn made the announcement.

  So far, the Turks appeared to enjoy being part of her crew. They were respectful, hard working, and group-oriented.

  “Are ya the messenger now, lad?”

  Quinn turned to Tavish. “They’re called nuntius in Latin, and no, not yet, I’m not. I need to see what it is they really want from me.”

  “You doona think it’s to be the nuntius?”

  “Maybe. Just because I have a ship doesn’t mean I’m going to sail hither and thither to keep a bunch of women in power.”

  Tavish slowly turned to her.

  Quinn put up her hand. “I know, I know. That’s pretty much what we’ve been doing these last couple of years.”

  “Aye, lad. Hearin’ what they have to say is wise, Callaghan. Play it safe. Doona give ennathing away.”

  “We’ll make the decision together, my friend. I expect you to keep me honest and not let me get too caught up in the idealism of it all. We have a crew to worry about.”

  “Two of ’em.”

  Quinn grinned. “Aye, my friend.”

  “Well, we’ve got some clear sailin’ ahead, two mighty fast ships, and an open sea. What more could we ask fer?” Tavish squinted into the sun. “Shite on a stick.”

  Quinn followed his line of sight. “Portuguese. Well, my friend, here is where the Turks show what they’ve learned.”