“I looked into her as well. She’s a decent woman... a kind woman... a woman who will love you as hard as a woman of her station can love. Let her.”
“And why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to be happy. Safe and happy. Loved and happy. Not many women can handle the life of a pirate, but I believe she can. She has a good soul, Callaghan.”
“More research?”
“Money greases many wheels, my love, and I have plenty of it.”
Pulling Fiona to her, Quinn kissed her long and hard, her arms wrapped tightly around Fiona’s waist as if she would never let go.
When the kiss ended, Quinn pulled away and gently touched Fiona’s eyebrow with her fingertips. “Thank you for caring. I wish our circumstance was better, and perhaps one day, it will be. Until then, make sure he is good to you, or there will be a very angry pirate after him.”
As Quinn stepped outside, she hesitated and then came back in. “And what would this lucky fellow’s name be?”
“Edmund. Edmund Scott.”
Quinn’s eyebrow rose. “An Englishman?”
Fiona blushed. “My father believes the English queen too powerful for us, so he is... shall we say... planting seeds for the future.”
Quinn stepped back out. “The English queen, eh? Then your father is either crazy or brilliant.”
Fiona nodded. “Only time will tell, my love. Only time will tell.”
***
Quinn raced back to the dock and returned to Becca’s cottage just as she was waking up. A sliver of guilt protruded from Quinn’s soul, but she ignored it.
“Yer dressed,” Quinn said, kissing her lightly.
Becca pinched the bridge of her nose. “Aye. My head is poundin’.”
“I know. So is mine. We drank too much, but damn, woman, we had a great time together. Ya are an amazing lover, Becca.”
Becca started to nod, then shook her head “I do not remember.”
Quinn stood. “Believe me. It was wonderful. Ya do know how ta please me, ta be sure.”
Becca beamed, then quickly frowned. “Next time, I’ll not drink like that. I don’t remember a thing.”
“Ya may not, but I do, and it was delicious. Now, I must return ta the ship. I wish we had more time but––”
Becca sat up, pulling the covers around her. “But Grace calls. I know.”
Quinn sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her boots back on. “Ya are a wickedly fun lover, Becca. Kind, loving, and verra generous. Ya are a beautiful, beautiful woman. I hope I wasn’t too vigorous with ya. It was hard fer me ta hold back.” Quinn felt, of all the lies, this was the least harmful.
Becca stared at her. “Sir, ya speak with an eloquence above yer station, and at times I wonder if ya are remotely what ya appear ta be.”
Quinn rose from the bed and adjusted her vest, feeling the weary weight of all the lies she’d been telling lately. Were they chipping away at her soul? Was the guilt she bore worth it? She wondered aloud, “What is it I appear ta be?”
Becca smiled lasciviously. “Ya command attention like a pirate, ya speak like a nobleman, and ya treat people like they matter. I do not know enna more than that.”
“I have learned a great deal since I started working on the Malendroke.”
“’Tis more than that, my love. So much more.”
Quinn kissed her softly. “The love of a pirate isn’t what ya ought ta aspire ta, Becca. Ya are a fabulous woman who deserves so much better.”
This made Becca laugh. “Better? Callaghan, look at me. I am a servant, a commoner. Why on earth would ya think I should wish fer more than the love of a good man?”
And there it was... a woman of low status had the highest aspiration to be loved by a decent man, while a woman of Fiona’s position was to be married to a man who raised the family’s status, love be damned. Neither was acceptable to Quinn, and she wondered how it could be so for either of these women.
“Because ya deserve it,” she told Becca. Kissing her once more, Quinn started for the door. “Ya are a rare gem, Becca. Never forget that. Thank ya fer last night.”
“Yer verra welcome.”
As Quinn opened the door, Becca added, “And I hope it doesna hurt yer feelins ta know that ya make love ta me like a woman.”
Quinn stopped and slowly turned, her heart picking up speed. “I... what?”
“Ya make love like a woman. Ya know when ta be gentle, where ta touch, how ta bring a woman ta the point a’ cryin’ out. Ya know yer way around a woman’s body.”
Quinn held her breath, wanting to release it but not wishing to alarm Becca. “I try.”
“False modesty doesna suit ya verra well. Yer the best lover I have ever had. I’m sure I’m not the first ta say so.”
Quinn smiled softly. “Ya are too kind.”
“And yer too mysterious. I wonder if I will ever truly know who ya are behind that pirate mask.”
“Mask? This is no mask.” How many times had she had to say that recently? And how many times could she keep on saying it?
“Of course it is. After being intimate with ya, I know there is more ta ya than what everraone sees.” Becca got out of bed, naked, and pulled Quinn into an embrace. “And I want ta see what everraone else does not see.”
Backing away, Quinn lightly touched Becca’s cheek. “We’ve talked about this.”
“Yes, we have, and we shall continue ta talk about it until we come ta an agreement.”
“An agreement?”
Becca chuckled. “Aye. Until ya agree that we are somethin’ special.”
“Special? We are special. Ya are special.”
“We will be when there are fewer people in our relationship.”
The pause was long and awkward.
“Relationship.” Quinn said it like it was a foreign concept.
Becca nodded. “Aye. And when that day comes, ya’ll come ta me, wantin’ only me. On that day, we will be special. Not before. I know ya have ta get her outta yer system. When ya do, we will move forward, but not until. Now, go—before I pull ya back into bed.”
Quinn stepped out the door and into the brisk morning air, feeling like they had just had two different conversations.
How much longer could she keep up this charade, she did not know, but––
“That was quick, laddie.”
Quinn was so startled that she reached for her sword until she realized who it was. “Tavish, what the hell are ya doing?”
“Me job, laddie. Stop being all surprised.”
Quinn tilted her head sideways. “Your job? According to whom?”
Tavish walked next to Quinn, bouncing as he did. “Not important, lad. What’s important is that yer safe and that we are settin’ sail this afternoon. It’s about time, if ya ask me. I’m ready ta put the land behind me.”
“The land or a woman?”
Tavish threw his arm across her shoulders. “Sometimes, laddie, they are one and the same.”
***
Ever since our capture by Drake’s men, Grace has been on a tear. I’ve never seen her so inflamed, so aggressive, and so short-fused. Grace strides across the deck shouting orders, barking at slow movers, and generally commanding with an air of authority I’ve not previously seen. Like the others around me, I just put my head down and do my work. We are even too nervous to ask where we were headed.
One day, after an hour out at sea, she pulled us all together and announced that we are heading to the continent.
To Portugal.
After Drake.
The crew is ecstatic. They seem to prefer pirating to any other activity, including chasing women. They are terribly good fighters, excellent thieves, and consummate pillagers. I feel confident against any other ship, English or otherwise. Grace’s men are well trained, and I am certain they cheered at her announcement because of an imminent fight, any fight, and not because it was Drake’s ship.
He’s gone and christened his latest ship the Judith, pr
obably in memory of the one he sacrificed against Captain O’Malley. Maybe he just did so to spite her.
So we are after the Judith and her captain, a despicable man who has likely returned to Portugal to collect more human cargo. With any luck, we are also heading toward some idea of where Shea could be.
If she’s still alive.
If she’s still well.
If she hasn’t been beaten or her spirit broken, carted around as a slave. I can’t stand to think of it. Truth be told, I can’t stand to think of the many ways the women I love are incarcerated in one form or another. Poor, lovely Becca is trapped in her station. Fiona, a woman on means no less trapped by her station, and Grace, the one everyone looks down on, is the freest of them all. It is as fascinating as it is heartbreaking. All we want is to have options open to us.
All we want is to be free.
***
That night, the seas were rougher than normal as the weather bore down on them with a vengeance. Quinn and Innis held the rope to the mainsail as it whipped around in the tempest that was on the warpath. The hard rain pelted the deck, and every man worked desperately to save the sails from being torn. It took a couple of hours of feverish work before they finally entered calmer waters, their sails tattered and torn but still attached.
Quinn was dead tired. She headed to one of the few private areas of the ship, where two hammocks hung in a closet-like structure. Collapsing in the hammock, she wondered if any of her muscles were not sore.
She doubted it.
She had stressed and strained for over two hours, and her body hated her for it. This was the work Patrick had hated the most: the shite work, the grunt work. She was glad he would not have to work so hard any longer.
Just as her heavy eyelids shut and her weary bones sank into the hammock ropes, the door was thrust open, revealing a large man standing at it.
“Close the bloody door,” Quinn growled, not bothering to look up to see who was there.
The intruder did as he was told.
“I don’t know why ya vex me so, but I can’t seem ta pull meself away from ya.”
It was Innis, and his breath was foul with ale.
“Go ta sleep, Innis. Yer a jackass is all. No hard feelings.”
Innis knelt next to her hammock. “That’s jus’ it,” he slurred. “I close me eyes, and there ya are. It is unnatural, I know, but I canna stop me thoughts.”
Quinn quickly sat up. Innis hated her—what was he going on about? “Don’t make me kick yer arse, Innis. Get the fuck out.”
Innis leaned in. “I’ve seen how ya look at me, lad, and though I canna stop it, I need ta know if ya... ”
She could not believe this was happening. “Oh, hell no. Bloody hell no, ya bastard. Get away from me. No. Not now, not ever. Get out before I run ya through.”
Innis grabbed her and pulled her face to his, smashing his lips into hers.
Quinn used both hands to shove him away, where he fell back against the wall. For a drunk man, Innis recovered quickly.
“Come on, Callaghan. Ya don’t hafta pretend wi’ me.”
Quinn thought back to Innis wielding that practice sword above his head while she lay on the deck unarmed. She remembered every snide comment, every dirty look he’d cast at her since she walked onto this ship. She was just too tired for this shit.
“Fuck ya, Innis!” Quinn pulled her fist back, but before she could release it, the door was torn off the hinges by Tavish McGee, who reached in, grabbed Innis around the throat, and punched him one time with a big, meaty fist.
Innis was knocked out cold, landing on the deck with a thump.
Unmoving.
“Ya all right, laddie?”
Quinn got up and straightened her clothes, her eyes moving from the missing door to Tavish’s fist and back to the doorway. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Bastard’s just drunk and acting the fool. What are you doing here, anyway?” Quinn stared down at Innis, who had yet to move. She thought he might even be dead.
Tavish shrugged. “Heard the noise and came runnin’. Yer sure yer all right? Filthy bugger.”
Quinn knew better than to believe that Tavish had heard anything, but she let it go. Glancing down at Innis, she shook her head. “You knocked him out with one blow?”
He shrugged again. “It’s what I do. It’s kinda what I’m known fer back home.”
“Knocking someone unconscious with a single punch is what you are known for?”
He held out his meaty fist. “Got ’em from me da. He told me a man who could knock another man out with one punch would have little ta fear from the world. Me da was a smart man.”
Quinn looked at it. It was twice the size of the largest fist she’d ever seen. “Well, nicely done.”
Tavish looked at her.
“I appreciate your interference,” Quinn continued, “but I’ve a feeling you saw it coming. You’ve been following me. I demand to know why.”
Taking Innis under the arms, Tavish started dragging him to the door. “The man hates ya inna way I canna understand, Callaghan. That much is certain. I’m jes’ keepin’ the peace.”
When Tavish and Innis were gone, Quinn got back in the hammock and stared at the open doorway.
If she was going to remain a man, she would have to step it up and be a man... a male pirate of lowbrow origins. She needed to be better at this than she’d ever been. If Innis felt drawn to her, it had to be something feminine in her that had seeped through her mask, and that was not acceptable.
Either that—or Innis was the male version of Quinn Gallagher and loved men more than women. That was possible, wasn’t it?
Either way, she needed to be more manly, lest others raise an eyebrow of suspicion. And she couldn’t have that... not when she was in pursuit of Shea. Not when Captain O’Malley agreed to help. Not when she was this close.
Quinn decided then and there to be even more masculine than she’d been. After all, Shea’s life may very well depend on it.
***
Quinn stepped up to the railing and looked left. Then right. No one too close. Pulling her pants down, she made a motion as if to be holding a urinating penis.
The urine fell off the side and into the water below just as two men started toward her.
Tucking the funnel back into her pants, Quinn left the area, nodding at the two men as she walked by.
It had been three hours since Tavish had punched Innis in the face, and Quinn had fashioned a device to help her urinate standing up—like a man. She needed them to see her more like them. She needed to start speaking like them and acting like them, even if that meant more burping and farting.
The funnel worked like a charm.
“Callaghan. Captain wants ta see ya,” one of the deck hands yelled to her.
Quinn quickened her step to the captain’s quarters, where Captain O’Malley sat waiting.
“Where ya been?” Grace asked when Quinn entered through the open door
“Bucket closet. I was trying to get a little rest after that last winder.”
Grace kicked the door closed with her boot. Then she leaned over and slammed several gold coins onto the small table. “I wanted ta talk ta ya about that Scotsman, Tavish McGee.” She motioned for Quinn to sit.
“I don’t know anything about him.”
“I know. That’s why I called ya in here. Ya know that letter ya handed me and that pouch a’ gold? Well, it seems Lady Fiona is overly concerned about yer welfare. She sent a message asking me ta keep ya safe and told me there is more where that came from as long as I allow the Scotsman ta remain on board and by yer side.”
Quinn looked at the coins. “Those are from her? I thought––”
“I know what ya thought. Ya thought she was payin’ me back. That isna the case. No, she has paid fer the room and board a’ the Scot if I am willin’ ta let him stay. Her pockets run deep, and the pay is handsome. She seems ta care fer young Callaghan quite a bit. Tell me,” Grace asked as she leaned forward,“Does she k
now who ya truly are?”
Quinn shook her head. “No, sir, she does not. There is no need. She is engaged, and that is that.”
Grace pushed the coins around. “No, Callaghan, that is not that. Ya might like fer it ta be, but I can tell ya from experience that this isna over.”
“It is from my end, sir. She is sworn to another. End of story. Besides, I need neither a benefactor nor a protector. I handle myself just fine.”
“Yer woman begs ta differ. She sent the Scot ta watch over ya. Paid handsomely fer me ta bring him on board. I don’t normally care fer folks buyin’ or sellin’ my men, but the man is a block a’ wood, and I hear he is a great fighter and does as he’s told. Why shouldn’t I keep him? I understand he used ta be a glass.”
“Yes, he was. Is. You know, sir, I have no idea.”
“Well then, I see no reason ta put him ta land.”
“You’re keeping him, then?” Quinn was slightly surprised.
Grace lowered her voice. “I would have kept him regardless a’ our families’ connection, so aye, he will be allowed ta stay on board. I just wanted ya ta know that the woman yer in love with feels verra protective a’ ya and that means I’ll keep takin’ her coin as long as she is willin’ ta pay.”
“Wait. What? In love? Sir, I––”
Grace held her hand up. “I have eyes everrawhere, Callaghan. I am well aware a’ just about everrathin’ that goes on with my men and my ship, both on the water and on land.” She lowered her hand. “Well, with one exception, but I can hardly be blamed fer that. I never expected a woman ta do what yer doin.’”
“I am truly sor––”
“No more apologies, Callaghan. I just called ya in here ta let ya know why Big Red is staying. I’ll not turn down her coin, not when he looks ta be a good fighter and loyal ta an Irish family.”
Quinn inhaled deeply and nodded. “Did you know he can knock a man out with one punch? One punch. BOOM!” Quinn hit her hand with her fist. “It was incredible.”
Grace’s eyebrows rose. “One punch? Verra interestin’. That could come in handy someday.”
“I still don’t need protection.”
Grace chuckled. “Not yer decision ta be made. I took her coin, and ya will take her man. That is the end a’ it.”
The Pirate's Booty (The Plundered Chronicles Book 1) Page 21