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

by Alex Westmore

  Gripping the oars, she pulled hard on the left one until the boat pointed in the right direction. Then she put her back into it and pulled hard on both oars. The swells hit her broadside, spilling over into the boat. It was an angry sea they were in, churning hard and fast and smacking the side of the ship, but her fear and adrenaline were no match for the water.

  She began the pattern of movement: forward, tuck, legs, pull, arms, legs. Quinn drove the oars deep into the dark water that slapped furiously at the side of the boat as if reaching for her. The right oar lifted out of the water as the boat tipped. Quinn fought the sea and the boat, using all of her energy to keep it upright. Pulling, pushing, she kept having to turn around to make sure she was headed to the largest light on the coast... the only light that could save her.

  “Come on!” Quinn shouted to herself above the roar of the waves as they threatened, once more, to tip her over. “You can do this!” Quinn was soaked as she righted the rowboat’s weight, but she knew.

  It was only a matter of time. The sea claimed whomever it wanted, whenever it wanted.

  And the next instance, the wave curled at the right moment and tipped the boat hard enough to toss Quinn into the churning waters.

  The darkness of the water scared the shite out of her. As Quinn’s head burst to the surface, the waves battered and blinded her, threatening to suffocate her, to blind her with its salt, and to overcome her until it dragged her to the sandy bottom.

  “Come on, Callaghan,” she growled to herself. “Don’t be such a pussy.” Grabbing the edge of the boat, she struggled to pull herself back into it.

  Once in, Quinn set her sights on the light perched at the edge of the coast and steeled her determination. “You can do this, Callaghan.” That time, she’d heard it. She had referred to herself as Callaghan. Not Quinn. Not Gallagher. Callaghan.

  How strange.

  Stroke after stroke, she dug into the water, her heavy clothing making her strain against the power of the water, the wind throwing a chilled blanket across her shoulders.

  She was freezing. Her numb fingers could barely keep a grip on the slippery, wet oars.

  For the first three hundred strokes, the light never seemed to get nearer. Then she saw it moving closer.

  And closer.

  As she forced her exhausted arms to keep moving, Quinn thought about Francis Drake. He must hate Grace a great deal to go after her in such a manner to destroy her reputation and crush her character while tricking her into killing her own crew. It was deviously cruel, even for an Englishman, not to mention quite costly to sink his ship.

  The man was evil.

  Quinn had to stop her captain. She needed to get to the Malendroke before Grace began firing on the Judith, but she needed help. She needed a boat. She needed money.

  She needed Fiona.

  ***

  Dragging herself out of the surf, Quinn put one tired leg in front of the other and collapsed on the rocky shore. She was exhausted, chilled to the bone, and her legs were like noodles—but she could not stop to rest. If she didn’t get to her captain in time, Grace O’Malley would do the unthinkable: she would unknowingly kill her own men.

  Pushing herself up the side of the rocky cliff, Quinn vowed not to let that happen, but she was unsure she could stop her in time. Only sheer determination kept her putting one foot in front of the other as she painstakingly made her way up the side of the cliff.

  When she finally reached the top, she collapsed. Her fingers were raw, her body chilled, and she had several cuts on her knees, but she’d made it.

  “Halt or die!” came the voice of a guard.

  Quinn held her hands up. “I need... ta see... Lady Fiona.”

  The guard laughed. “And I’d like to be king. You’ll go into a hold while we figure out what to––”

  With the last of her energy, Quinn’s leg swept him and, as he went down, she rammed her knee into his neck. “Ya go ta her and tell her that one of Grace O’Malley’s men needs ta see her right away. Many men will die if she doesn’t see me. If they die, ya die. Ya understand me? Because I can tell ya this much. If she finds out ya took a friend of hers ta some fucking dungeon, ya will be cleaning chamber pots fer the rest of yer life. Nod if ya understand.”

  The guard nodded.

  “Good. Now, I’m going ta let ya up. Ya come at me again, and it’ll be the last thing ya do. Yer decision, matey.” Quinn moved off him and waited.

  The guard rubbed his throat. “Grace O’Malley’s man, eh?”

  Quinn nodded. “I’ll follow ya ta the gate. Ya do ennathing stupid and trust me, Fiona will have yer head.”

  The soldier weighed his options and chose to go see if Lady Fiona wished to see the soaked sea-dog.

  When he finally returned, he was surprised. “She will see you in the courtyard. Follow me.”

  Quinn followed him to the courtyard, where Lady Fiona waited in a hastily thrown-on dress, her nighttime bonnet tied around her head, and a shawl over her shoulders.

  “There you are! What a surprise you would show up here. Roger said this sounded urgent.” Fiona held the torch up. “Oh my. Oh dear. Are you all right? You’re soaked through.”

  Quinn bowed her head. “I am none the worse for wear, m’lady.”

  Fiona dismissed the guard and then threw her arms around Quinn’s neck and kissed her. Suddenly, for a moment, Quinn wasn’t cold at all. With Fiona in her arms, her energy returned. Quinn felt her bucket of hope fill up as they kissed.

  Becca was right. Quinn was in love with this woman, and neither time nor distance was going to change that.

  “You silly man,” Fiona said, stepping out of the embrace. “As long as you are with me, you will always be far better than that.” She turned to the darkness and barked orders to a woman lurking in the shadows. “Rita, get my guest a robe, please. And be quick about it.” To Quinn, she said, “Your gentleman’s clothing fit you far better than these soaked pirate clothes, but we need to get you out of them before you catch your death.”

  Quinn stared at the growing puddle at her feet. She should not have been surprised that Fiona had known, but once again, her duplicitous acts had been discovered, and again, she felt smaller for it. “I can explain. I must apologize for my scurrilous appearance, but––”

  Fiona grinned, her fingers lightly sweeping hair from Quinn’s forehead. “And that was another thing that nagged at me after the ball. No pirate’s vocabulary includes words such as scurrilous.”

  “Fiona, I did not wish––”

  Placing her fingertips on Quinn’s lips, Fiona shushed her. “One look in those eyes, Callaghan, and I knew it was you. You took my breath away all dressed up, with your poetic tongue and your keen wit. I could have stayed in the library forever with you.”

  “The ruse... it was not––”

  “I care not why you came to me in nobleman’s clothing, silly. I only care that you did.” Fiona leaned over and kissed Quinn softly.

  “I truly am sorry.”

  “No apologies are necessary, sweet man. You came to protect me and my family. For that, there are no apologies. Come. At least sit by the fire and warm yourself while you tell me what brought you here in the dead of night soaked to the bone. Whatever is going on?” Fiona took Quinn’s hand and led her through the courtyard and into the great room where the fire burned steadily. “Now... warm yourself.”

  Quinn backed up to the fire as she shivered. “Thank you. That water is frigid. I am so sorry to disturb you, but the crew––”

  Fiona once again placed her fingers lightly over Quinn’s lips. “And I will hear about it once you are dry and have changed your clothes. It won’t do to have you catch your death. You’re shivering.”

  “Clothes?”

  “I have several brothers who come visit and leave their clothes here. You won’t do anyone any good if you become ill, least of all help whoever it is that has you swimming up the coast to see me.”

  The servant returned bearing cloth
es and linen to wipe off with.

  Quinn dried off her hair and stepped behind a tall screen to drop her wet clothes in a pile. Drying off, she peeked out to see Fiona giving directions to two of her men, who exited quickly when she finished. Her servant returned with a goblet of something.

  “Toss your clothes out here,” she ordered. “We will put them by the fire so they will be ready by morning. Drink this whiskey to warm you up from the inside.”

  Quinn threw her clothes out on the floor. “I cannot thank you enough.”

  The servant took Quinn’s wet things before handing her a dry set of nobleman’s clothes and the goblet.

  When Quinn was dry and dressed in the offered attire, she came out holding the goblet. She had finally stopped shaking. “You are a godsend, m’lady.”

  Fiona grinned warmly. “And you look wonderful.” Holding her hands out, she took Quinn’s in hers. “Absolutely delicious. If we had the time... ”

  “Thank you, but I haven’t much of that. My crew is in great peril.”

  Fiona walked up to the fire, still holding one of Quinn’s hands. “Do tell me what made you swim to my home.” Fiona sat on the hearth and pulled Quinn next to her. “How can I help?”

  Quinn told her about being grabbed by the Donnell clan, their incarceration, and her subsequent escape.

  “So this Drake’s plan is to force Grace to shoot at a ship her men are on? That... that’s horrific.”

  Quinn nodded. “It will destroy her. If that bastard wishes to crush Grace O’Malley’s spirit, he has found the perfect means for doing so. I need to help stop her before she does.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  After Quinn explained what she needed, she waited while Fiona issued orders, vanishing for a moment before returning, nodding her head. “I should be able to secure a boat for you within the hour, certainly before sunrise. I’ll send some of my men with you to row. You are in no condition to do this yourself.”

  “Good. Thank you. Captain O’Malley will head out at first light. I need to be on that ship before then or all will be lost.”

  “And you will be. The English will not win this day. You will have a boat, men, and hopefully enough time to stop this tragedy from happening.” Fiona sat again. “I have asked Cook to prepare you something to eat.”

  “Eat? I don’t have time to––”

  “Do not be silly. You need to keep your strength up for this plan of yours. Eat, and then you may head to the docks. I insist.”

  “I... I don’t know how to thank you, Fiona.”

  Fiona leaned in. “You may not, but I do. When the time is right, I want to know your secrets.”

  “My... secrets.”

  “Yes, my interesting and beautifully confused man. Your secrets. You are an enigma to me... a wonderful mystery I wish to unwrap like the gift you are. Someday, I wish to know them, all of them, but not now. We do not have time. Right now, you need to eat, to rest, and I have supplies to gather. You cannot crew a ship alone, and you need weapons. I take it you did not have your sword with you.”

  “I could never have swam as I did with the weight of it, no.”

  “Then I shall make sure you have one. I cannot let my noble pirate leave here unarmed. Just eat. Breathe. Take a moment.” Fiona kissed Quinn’s forehead. “And I’ll send someone to patch your eyebrow. It looks terrible.” She studied Quinn’s face. “So does that lip.” Her index finger lightly touched Quinn’s face. “You did not get this from the sea.”

  “No, I did not. It lightens my heart that you care so.”

  “Oh, Callaghan. I’m afraid it’s a wee bit more than concern, but that, too, is a conversation for another day. I know this is awfully... forward of me, but I care very much about you. Very much. Now eat.”

  When Fiona was gone, a servant brought a tray of fruits, cheeses, and something rolled in a leaf-like thing.

  “Thank you.” Quinn took the tray and popped some grapes in her mouth. Sitting there eating, Quinn felt her body’s temperature return to normal. The chills were gone, but the throbbing in her fingers still persisted. The food truly helped, as did the fire, and Quinn ate almost everything on the tray.

  When Fiona returned, she was not alone.

  “Callaghan, my sweet, This is Tavish McGee. He is one of my most trusted guards, and he will handle the crew we are gathering.”

  Quinn rose and nodded. The man before her was a bulldog with red hair, no neck, arms as thick as legs, and legs as thick as tree trunks. He was a rectangle of a man with long, red sideburns that met with a mustache that hung off his face. Shorter than Quinn but twice as wide, the man peered at her through intense eyes.

  Quinn extended her hand. “Kieran Callaghan. Everraone calls me Callaghan.”

  The ruddy stump of a man shook her hand. “The lady says ya need ta get ta O’Malley’s ship in a hurra. We’ll get yer ship ready ta go afore sunup ta be sure, and wi’ the lads rowin’ their hearts out, we should get ya where ya need ta go.”

  Quinn turned to Fiona. “Scottish? Your men are Scottish?”

  “Not my men. Just Tavish. It’s a long story, and we do not have the time.”

  Quinn nodded. “I look forward to the day when we actually have the time for all of our long stories.”

  Fiona smiled. “I would love that as well, Kieran.” Fiona cocked her head. “You don’t seem much like a Kieran. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll call you Callaghan.”

  Quinn nodded once. “That will work just as well as the other.” She studied Tavish. “In a nutshell, what’s a Scot doing in an Irish castle?”

  Tavish replied, “Came as a galloglaigh, stayed as a guard.”

  “Tavish is a good man, Callaghan,” Fiona said. “You can trust him. I do. Implicitly.”

  “Thank you, Fiona, and thank you, Tavish.”

  “Doona thank me yet, laddie boy. Thank me when we stop a ship like the Malendroke from firin’ on an English vessel. Yer askin’ fer a lot.”

  “My crew’s lives are at stake, Tavish. And if Grace O’Malley sinks that ship with her crew on it, she will never recover—and Ireland needs her.”

  “Och, aye, it does. Worra not, Callaghan. We will prevent that disaster, and the lady has sent out a number a’ us ta locate them Englishmen who might be on land. Right now, we need ta get ta the docks ta go at first light.”

  “Yes, Callaghan, the boat should be ready by the time you arrive. I have sent men ahead of you.” Fiona curtseyed. “I shall await word of your safety, sweet one.”

  Quinn handed the tray back to a servant and rose. “I shall do my best, m’lady.” To Tavish she said, “I am ready.”

  Tavish exchanged looks with Fiona and nodded before starting for the door. “I’ll meet ya out front where the horses’ll be waitin’, Callaghan. Doona be too long.”

  When they were alone, Fiona took Quinn’s hands in hers once more. “I am so glad you came to me, Callaghan. We will save your crew and your ship. Stay safe, my well-spoken pirate, and return to me. I mean... return safely.” Fiona’s eyes softened. “No. I meant return to me. This world needs men like you.”

  “Thank you, m’lady. If we manage this, Grace O’Malley will forever be indebted to you.”

  “I’d rather you be indebted to me.”

  Quinn looked into Fiona’s eyes and knew her heart was taken for sure. She was in love with this woman she could never have... in love with a woman who knew she had secrets and who would probably turn away in disgust if she knew she’d been kissing a woman.

  And Quinn Gallagher didn’t care.

  It was enough, for now, to feel Fiona in her heart.

  The rest... the truth of it all would come out later. For now, Quinn would relish the warm feeling coursing through her.

  “I shall return to you, Fiona, because I cannot now imagine my life without you.” With that, Quinn kissed the back of Fiona’s hand and then took off around the side of the castle until she met Tavish with the horses.

  “Can ya ride, pir
ate?”

  Quinn leapt upon the horse. “Better than most. Worse than others.”

  “Truly? Most seamen I ken doona ken the front from the back a’ the creature.”

  Quinn chuckled. Already, she liked this block of a Scotsman. “Well, sir, I ken more than most.”

  Riding slowly through the lightening gloom of pre-dawn, Quinn looked back at the castle, knowing full well that Fiona would watch them until they were out of sight.

  “She likes ya, laddie. She likes ya verra mooch.”

  Quinn turned back around. “It matters not. I am a pirate. She is a lady. There is no place for this to go.”

  They rode in silence a while before Tavish replied, “Aye. That’ll only make her life harder, ya ken?”

  Quinn knew. “I do.”

  A few dozen hoofbeats later, Tavish asked, “And?”

  “And I’d never want that for her. Ever. Don’t worry, Tavish. I know my place, and it isn’t standing next to her, no matter how much I want to be.”

  “Good. I want the best fer Lady Fiona... and ya are not that.”

  “You want it because you’re in love with her?”

  Tavish chuckled. “Nah. Because she saved me life when I was all but dead. I’d cut off me arm fer her. If ya wouldn’t, then ya got no business bein’ around her.”

  “What if I would?”

  Tavish turned. “Then maybe yer more of a man than ya look.”

  ***

  The medium-sized boat was manned by fourteen of Fiona’s men, who easily cast off before the sun could peek over the horizon. They were not the only ones getting a boat that morning, and Quinn made quick work of finding out what was going on at the docks that was creating such a stir.

  “So this Hawkins fella we was talkin’ ta at the docks. He’s with Drake?” Tavish asked.

  Quinn nodded. “Procuring a secondary ship fer the rest of their men, aye.”

  The Judith was easy to see in the distance, and the boat Quinn was on was heading in the right direction... straight for them.

  “Keep yer eyes open fer the Malendroke!” a man named Kemp shouted.

  Tavish handed Quinn an eyeglass.

  Looking through the glass, Quinn surveyed the horizon, her eyes straining to find the familiar masts of her home.