“’Tis plunder, lass,” her father explained. “Cap’n Tait likes to keep a sampling of every plunder.”
“I see.” And she did. The man depended on things in an attempt to chase the loneliness out of his heart.
She’d seen him hanging in the shadows with such mournful looks she wanted to hug him. He needed her. He just didn’t know it. The workhouse had tried to make her feel the same. But memories of Mama’s unfailing love had kept her whole and given her strength. Things might sometimes be easily gained, but they were also easily lost. Loved ones filled your heart forever. As she forged deeper into the clutter, she looked all around the room. “Where is he?”
A grumbling snore from the vicinity of the window overlooking the bay answered.
“Sounds like over there. Most likely on the floor.” Hobbs led the way through a trio of overstuffed couches and peeped over the back of the one in front of the window. “Here he be.”
Ellie rounded the furniture and smiled. The tall, hulking figure of Captain Tait Mackenzie, Demon Mackenzie to his enemies, lay stretched out on his back with his hands folded across his stomach. If not for the healthy coloring to his cheeks, she’d think him dead. Her heart fluttered, and every last bit of her flushed with a delightfully uncomfortable warmth. He was such a handsome man. Long hair, darker than sin, some of it braided and strung with beads. A gold earring in one ear. Dressed all in black, he looked as though he captained the fleets of the Earl of Hell himself.
Aye, he did appear fearsome and evil, but she knew him for the big-hearted man that he was. She’d spied him playing with the harlots’ children—allowing the wee lads to capture him with their wooden swords. She’d also come upon him in the stables, sitting on the ground in one of the stalls, playing with a litter of pups. The man had a good heart. He just didn’t know it.
Tait shifted with a snorting mumble, then crossed his legs at the ankles. Without opening his eyes, he smacked his lips and grimaced. “Damnation, me mouth tastes like someone shite in it.”
“Help me get him to his bed, aye?” Now that the man was semi-awake, the two of them might be able to move him. Ellie grabbed hold of one arm while her father grabbed the other. “Come now, Captain, up and to the bed with ye.”
One green eye slowly opened. “Am I dead?” he asked, then hiccupped as he opened the other eye the barest slit and looked to be having some difficulty focusing on her.
“Of course not.” She pulled harder, nodding for Da to do the same. If they could get him on his feet, they had a fair chance of making it the short distance to his bed. “Ye’re just drunk as can be. Help us now. We’ll get ye in the bed to sleep it off, then tomorrow, ye’ll join us for a lovely Christmas dinner.”
After several attempts, they got him to his feet and draped his arms around their shoulders. Tait staggered forward several steps, then came to a halt, scowling at his surroundings. “I wouldha thought heaven a damn sight cleaner than this.” He swiveled his attention back to her and smiled. “But I must say, ye are a verra lovely angel. Ye look just like Ellie.”
“I told ye, ye’re nay dead, and I am Ellie.” She nudged to get him moving again, more than a little pleased at the compliment. He thought her lovely. That was a good start.
“And why in the world would ye ever think ye’d land in heaven?” her father dryly asked.
Tait seemed not to have heard him. Instead, he kept his bleary-eyed focus locked on her. “Ellie’s a fine girl, ye know. Ye’d like her. She’ll be an angel someday when she finishes her earthly walk.” He gave a hard nod and nearly lost his footing. “Her father, good old Hobbs, God bless his foolish arse, promised to find her the verra best of husbands. Ye know I’ll have to kill any bastard if he treats her ill? The husband—not Hobbs. He’d never treat her ill. Loves her more than life itself.” He hiccupped again, staggered forward a few more steps, then fell face-first onto the bed. “Wish I had someone to love,” he mumbled into the bedclothes. He rolled over, closed his eyes, and smiled. “Hobbs’ll find her a good husband, though. Ye’ll see.” His smile melted away, replaced with a mournful scowl. “Wish it couldha been me,” he muttered.
She turned and looked at her father, who backed away and mouthed the word, no. Since drink had taken Tait to such a frame of mind, she might as well use it to plant a few seeds of wisdom that he might recall once sober. “Ellie nay wants another. She means to marry ye. Says she loves ye. Ye need a good woman like her for yer wife.”
Tait cracked open an eye and looked at her as though he thought her mad. “Are ye daft? I thought angels knew ever…ever’thing.” He floundered his way higher up into the pillows. “I could never marry Ellie. She needs a moral man. One who’ll make her happy.” Wiggling his nose, he rubbed it furiously, then sneezed. “God’s beard!” he said as he cradled his head in his hands. Eyes wide, he stole a look around as though fearing capture. Leaning forward, he motioned for her to come closer. “Can ye say, ‘God’s beard’ in heaven?”
He was worse than what she’d thought. Pearls of wisdom would never be recovered from this drunken haze. She pushed him back to his pillows and pulled a blanket up over him. “Go back to sleep, aye? Ye’re fair pickled.”
“Ye’re right about that, dear angel, who looks like Ellie.” A peaceful smile spread across his face, making him even more lovable. “I’m glad I died and missed Christmas.”
Ellie couldn’t help herself. “Ye nay missed it, silly. Christmas is tomorrow, and ye’ll be spending it with Ellie and her Da.”
Tait chuckled and shook his head. “Ye’re the silly one. ’Tis best I stay away from Ellie. Ye know that as well as I.”
Maybe this drunken haze would be helpful, after all. It might give her more information. “Why must ye stay away from Ellie?” she asked as she tucked the blanket around his shoulders.
Without opening his eyes, Tait blew out a heavy sigh. “Too dangerous. More I’m around her, more I wanna be around her,” he mumbled.
“Do ye like Ellie?”
Tait shrugged. “Nay matters. Only whores and harlots for the likes of me.” With what appeared to be a great deal of difficulty, he pried open an eye again and managed a wink. “’Twould be a cold day in hell before ye’d find me with a woman like Ellie.”
“Why is that?” If she could discover the one thing holding him back, she’d use it. Love trumped all else.
“Too nice. Proper,” he mumbled, then rumbled out a long snore. His choking snort roused him, and both eyes popped open. He waved a finger through the air. “She’s a good woman, ye ken? All meek and soft. Quiet.” He dozed off again while still mumbling, “I could love precious Ellie, but I’m nay good enough for the likes of her. Never will be. Would never marry her. Best stay away.”
She whirled about and looked at her father. “Did ye hear that? He said he could love me.”
“Aye.” He gave her a sad smile. “But let me tell ye something about that man lying there. He’s stubborn as they come, lass. Once he’s made up his mind, he’ll never change it. Even when it would be in his best interest to do so.” He shook his head. “If he says he willna marry ye—’twill never happen.”
“We’ll see about that.” With three years of wishing and praying invested in this man, she wasn’t about to give up now.
Chapter Two
“Rise, fool! Rise, I say!” Thunder crashed so loudly it shook the bed.
Something hard cracked across the bottoms of his feet, sending searing jolts clear to his knees.
“What the hell?” Tait shot bolt upright, wide awake, and unbelievably sober. “Who the…” The ability to speak left him. The strange female standing beside his bed didn’t appear quite solid. While she clearly had shape and form, he looked through her as easily as a thin fog. With the heels of his hands, he scrubbed his eyes. It was the whisky. This had to be the whisky addling him.
“Be thou deaf? I said rise!” She stamped her long, twisted cane, its shaft glowing as though lit from within. Overlaid in black and silver swirls, it w
as topped with the largest ruby he had ever seen. “Do ye wish another kiss from me staff? We have much to do and very little time. On yer feet now, fool!”
Tait scooted higher in the bed until his back touched the headboard. What sort of weapon might frighten away such a creature? A cross, a Bible, holy water, maybe? He had none of the three. God help him. It didn’t happen often, but he was actually afraid and didn’t like it a damn bit. “Who…what are ye?”
The shimmering woman, tall, thin, dressed in trews and a silvery, lace-trimmed jacket, straightened her cocked hat, then fluffed its elaborate plumes. Her white hair floated all around as she proudly lifted her chin. “Ye have the honor of finding yerself in the presence of Pirate Queen Augusta Santorini. You may address me as Queen Augusta.”
“Queen Augusta Santorini?” Even shocked and fearful as he was, Tait thought the name rather odd. It didn’t fit her manner nor her accent. “That be an unusual name,” he commented in the low, seductive tone he used to charm the whores. Since he didn’t know how to battle her, maybe he could win her over.
The pirate queen smiled, revealing a gleaming set of teeth complete with silver-tipped fangs. Her pale eyes momentarily flashed as red as the ruby. She leaned close and winked. “I changed it. Chose it meself. Ye like it?”
“Oh, aye, lass. Verra much.” He was nay the fool. What better way to befriend this oddity than to agree with it? “Um…what are ye? The angel of death?”
She balanced both hands atop her cane and studied him. Her long red nails clicked against the jewel. “I am no angel.” The pirate queen stamped the stick again, bounced it high, and caught it in one hand. “Out of that bed now, mate. I have been charged with opening yer eyes, and me time here is short. Get a move on. Yers be one of the last few souls I need to free meself from this accursed task and move on.”
Tait slowly stood, wishing if this were a dream, he’d wake the hell up. “What is this task ye speak of? What do ye mean about opening my eyes?”
The spirit gave him a long, slow up and down look. “My, my. Big one this time.” She held out her cane, offering the ruby knob to Tait. “Take hold, and I shall show ye. I am but the first of three this night, and if ye be like most fools, it’ll take us all to make ye understand.”
As soon as he touched the jewel, both he and Queen Augusta were suddenly standing on a dark, rain-drenched street lit only by sputtering torches along a towering stone wall. A set of iron gates, heavy, black, spiked at the top, rose up in front of them. The sign bolted to the wall read, Haversham Workhouse.
Movement to his right startled him. A thin woman, sallow with the mask of the dying, stood with her hands resting on a young girl’s shoulders. The wee lass had a familiar look, but he’d never seen the woman before. “Who are they?” he whispered, edging back into the shadows to remain unseen and give the two weary souls their privacy.
“There is no need to whisper, me simple one.” The eerie light wavering around the pirate queen brightened, illuminating the faces of the woman and her child. “All ye see is what once was, but now is no more.”
“What?”
“The past, fool, things that happened in the past. Nothing here can either see or hear ye because it no longer exists.” Queen Augusta rolled her eyes. “Happens every time I try to take on airs and talk all spirit-like.” She shook her head. “Why do I always get the dullards?”
Ghost or not, he’d not be talked to with such disrespect. “I’ll thank ye to mind yer manners—”
“Or ye’ll what?” The queen gave him a warning thump on the chest with the ruby, then yanked him out of the shadows and pointed him at the beggarly pair. “Shut yer maw and open yer ears, savvy?”
For the first time since his mam passed away, Tait did as he was told.
The sickly woman’s hands trembled as she patted the child’s shoulders. “’Twill only be for a little while, Ellie dearest. Keep yer head down, work yer hardest, and learn yer letters, aye?”
“But I need to be with ye, Mama. Who’ll take care of ye? Please dinna make me go.” Young Ellie stole a fearful glance over at the iron gates. “I’m afeared to go to the workhouse,” she said. “Ye’ve heard the stories.”
A tear slipped down the mother’s hollowed cheek, and she managed a faint smile. “Ye ken I’m dying, my sweet girl,” she said. “If ye dinna go to the workhouse, ye’ll end up dead on the streets—or worse. I canna go to my grave knowing I left ye in such straits.”
The child dove forward and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist. “I dinna want ye to die.” Her muffled sobs broke Tait’s heart. “Please dinna leave me,” the little girl begged.
The woman hugged her tight for a long moment as she closed her eyes and rested her cheek atop the wee lass’s head. “I love ye, Ellie, love ye more than ye’ll ever know.” Gently, she pulled herself out of the girl’s arms and eased back a step. “Remember what I told ye?”
Ellie sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of her hand, then nodded. She stared at the ground, avoiding her mother’s eyes.
“Tell me now, so I’ll know ye remember it rightly.” The mother gently slid a finger under Ellie’s chin and lifted, peering at the child with a pointed but kindly look. “Tell me, lass. Tell me what I told ye.”
“Soon as I learn writin’, I’m to send word to the Mackenzies at Wrath Keep. They’ll know how to find Da and have him come get me.” The lass’s bottom lip quivered as she lifted her teary-eyed gaze. “I wish Da already knew about me. I wish he couldha come and got ye, too.” She shook with a hiccupping sob. “I wish he couldha got us afore ye got sick. Living in a better place maybe wouldha helped ye.”
The bedraggled woman sadly bowed her head. “I know, child.” A fierce spasm of coughing and wheezing interrupted her. Wiping blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, she patted the girl’s shoulder. “Can ye ever forgive me for my prideful choices? Can ye forgive me for bein’ a fool?” She cradled her daughter’s cheek in her hand. “I never learnt to read or write and never had enough coin to hire a message writ for me. Please say ye forgive me, Ellie. All I have to leave ye is my love. Please let that be enough.”
The child Ellie had been just moments ago seemed to fade away before Tait’s eyes. A mantle of maturity, the wisdom of an old soul, settled across her. The little girl gave her mother a brave smile. “Yer love has always been more than enough, Mama. There’s nothing to forgive. I know ye did the best ye could.” She straightened her shoulders and stood taller. “I love ye, Mama. Hie on back to the priest now whilst ye can still make it. He said he’d give ye shelter in the crypt long as ye needed.” The child’s courage faltered, and she stared back at the ground. “He said ye can stay there even after,” she whispered. “Least I’ll know ye’ll be on holy ground.”
Tait couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. He’d not even wept when his beloved parents had passed. Damn it all to hell and back. He ached so badly for young Ellie and her mother, he wanted to keen his sorrow for all to hear. “How could one so young be so brave?” he asked in a rasping whisper.
“Good enough.” Queen Augusta took his hand and placed it on the ruby. “Time to move on.”
Now they stood inside the workhouse, but the Ellie in front of him was older. She looked to be almost grown but overly thin and pale.
The spirit pointed her staff at the girl where she stood hunched over a table, pinning the seams of a garment. “See the chains? She endured seven years of this place before she was able to get a message to old Hobbs. Escaped twice, trying to send it off. Last time she ran, they dragged her back and shackled her to that table. Eat. Sleep. Chamber pot. It didna matter. She never moved from that spot.” Queen Augusta glowed brighter again, her proud smile shining like a beacon. “But she never lost hope. Never missed her wishes, prayers, nor lost her spirit. Does that sound like a meek lass? A mousy, cowardly bit of a girl afeared of her own shadow?”
“I never called her mousy or afraid.” But he had called her meek. And quiet. And proper.
He had known Hobbs had rescued her from a workhouse. But she’d looked so healthy and content when he’d first met her; he’d figured her to have been at one of the less fearsome places. Of course, he hadn’t met her until six months after Hobbs had saved her. It had taken the quartermaster quite a while to make his way back to the Cove.
Queen Augusta held out her cane. “Onward, fool. Take hold once again.”
This time they landed in a much happier place. They were back at the Cove, but the weather was warm and bright rather than the cold wintry Christmas Eve.
“Look at yer Ellie now.” Queen Augusta gave him a particularly toothy smile, and Tait knew damn well the ghost didn’t mean it kindly.
Ellie sat on a bench in the garden, sewing. With a satisfied look, she shook out the garment and held it up. A fine black brocade jacket with wide cuffs and fancy silver buttons. His favorite jacket. The jacket he thought his tailor had fashioned. “I didn’t know she made it.”
“Appears yer dim about a lot of things she does for ye since ye’re so damned intent on ignoring her.” Queen Augusta scowled at him. “What ails ye, man? There be a lovely woman who’s nearly beat the North Star’s ear to death with her wishing that ye’ll take notice and fancy her.” She glanced down at his crotch. “Something gone awry down there? Sword come too close and turn ye into a gelding?”
“Hell no, and I’ll be damned if I stand here and discuss my man parts with a nightmare from a whisky bottle!”
The pirate queen’s eyes narrowed. “Ye dinna think ye’re good enough for her.” She tapped a long ruby fingernail to the tip of his nose. “That’s it, ain’t it?” Her victorious look shifted to befuddlement. “How can ye be so stupid?”
“Take me home, aye?” Tait reached for the ruby, but Queen Augusta kept it away.
“Nay. Not just yet.” She swept her staff through the air and squinted at an array of colorful scenes that appeared on the clouds. “Now, let me see. Rescued hundreds of lads from workhouses when ye wasn’t smuggling goods. Helped yer cousin by not only saving her husband from the noose but also rescuin’ him from that treacherous wench that wanted him dead. Spoiled yer nephews and nieces. Gave money to the poor when ye thought no one knew.” She flipped through the scenes like turning the pages of a book. “I’m hard-pressed to find a spark of cruelty in ye.” Her head tilted as she skimmed through the images, fluttering deeper into his life. “Ye liked yer whores more than most, but that’s no’ a crime.” She tilted her head the other way and kept sifting. “Killed quite a few, but looks as though they needed it. A little sly with yer dealings perhaps, but no’ a bit a menace in ye.” She turned away from the peeks into his life splayed across the sky. “Ye sure ye’re a pirate?”
O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales Page 77