Cutthroat Crusades (The Plundered Chronicles Book 4)

by Alex Westmore

  “Becca, I am so sor––”

  The third slap was the hardest, and even the tavern’s patrons quieted down to watch the exchange unfold.

  “Ya don’t get to be sorry, Callaghan. Ya don’t get to come in here like ya always have with yer tail between yer legs. Six months without a word. Not one word. Well, ya needn’t waste yer foul breath on me enna longer. I understand now my worth to ya.” Becca angrily wiped her tears away before they fell.

  Quinn looked away and backed out the doorway. Becca followed.

  “If ya found the love of yer life, ya just had to let me know so I could move on. Ya just needed to care, even a tiny bit, to send word.” The tears sprang up once more. “It’s the least ya coulda done fer me, Callaghan. After all I did fer ya over the years, and ya couldn’t give me a little decency? Ya couldn’t treat me with a little respect?”

  Quinn felt her own eyes fill with tears. “Maybe that was my way of letting you go.”

  “Then yer nothin’ but a fuckin’ coward. Even your drunken mates would have treated me kinder. I deserved better. Especially from ya.”

  “Aye. That you did, but I came as––”

  As Becca’s hand shot out once more, Quinn grabbed it before she could land another. “Whoa, Becca. Three is all you get. I understand why you’re so angry, but you need to understand that I was lost. Lost and broken. I had to kill my best friend and watch my other get mangled in the Inquisition. I came back from a shipwreck that cost me everything.”

  “Not everythin’, Callaghan. I’m still here. I’ve always been here.” Becca backed slightly away. “But no more. I cannot be your soft place to land ennamore. I waited fer three months to hear from ya . . . about ya. I could not wait enna longer. I belong to another now.”

  While not surprised, this news felt like a dagger to Quinn’s heart. “I . . . I suspected as much.”

  “What was I to do? Waste my life away fer someone who can’t even send one message telling me she’s okay? Not one. I understand what ya went through, my love. I listened day in and day out fer weeks while yer crew mates tried to collect themselves over the losses they . . . we suffered.”

  “I’m so . . . sorry––”

  “I said ya don’t get to be. Not ennamore. I loved ya, Quinn Callaghan—man, woman, pirate, noble, I loved all of ya, but I willna be an afterthought. I will no longer be yer port in the storm.”

  Quinn blinked back her tears, feeling for the first time, the sting of Becca’s palm against her cheek. She knew no words would comfort Becca or make her feel better, so she said nothing.

  “I’m certain ya’ve found yerself some other woman to pleasure, but it won’t be me enna longer, Callaghan. Not now. Not ever again.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  Becca held her hand in the air. “Don’t want to hear it. I figured ya were either between someone else’s legs or beneath the sea. Otherwise, ya’d at least have gone to Blackrock Castle to help Fiona. I thought fer sure that would have brought ya back to us.”

  Quinn stood a bit straighter at the word Fiona. “Why is she back home? I thought her husband––”

  “This pregnancy has been verra, verra hard on her. Last message I received from her begged me to send ya to her straight away. She is concerned there is somethin’ wrong with her babe.” Becca’s voice softened a little. “That was when I knew ya weren’t comin’ back. I sent word to everraone I knew that Fiona and her babe were in trouble, and even that wouldna bring ya home.”

  “I loved Fiona as best I could, Becca. You know that. But she is not mine to care for. Not anymore. Even if I could help her, I can’t. Her husband would never allow it, nor should he. There is not place for me there.”

  “Since when do you give a rat’s arse what that bastard wants?” Becca quickly held her hand up. “Never mind, I do not wish to hear it.” Opening the tavern door, she motioned to a young man to come to her. “I promised Fiona I would send a message to her if I saw ya before she did. Shall I tell her yer on yer way?”

  “Becca . . . I . . . ” Quinn shook her head. Becca was right. There were no words. “Thank you.”

  And just like that, her relationship with Becca was over.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as the main sail of a ship one quarter of the size of the Malendroke unfurled. So many thoughts, so many more emotions coursed through her as she stared at the smaller ship.

  “I’ll be damned,” Becca uttered. “Yer not goin’ to go to her, are ya?” Becca backed away slightly. “My god. Ya really aren’t.”

  Quinn steeled herself and threw her shoulders back. “No, Becca, I’m not.”

  “Because once again, you choose Grace O’Malley over everraone else.” She kept shaking her head. “I had hoped ya’d changed, Callaghan. Ya haven’t, have ya? Yer plannin’ on goin’ after her even as the love of yer life needs ya.”

  Quinn felt another piece of her heart chip off. “Grace needs me now more than ever. Men will die if she reaches Elizabeth. I can’t allow that to happen.”

  “Then by all means, go to her. Go to her as ya have always done. A woman who is not yer lover and men who are not yer family have always taken first prize with ya, Callaghan. Always have, always will. Only a fool would think fer one second that ennaone else but she sits on the middle of yer heart. Well, my sweet one, I am that fool no longer.” To the young messenger, Becca said, “Tell the good lady that our lover is once again on the high seas with the only true love of her life and to never again think of Quinn Callaghan as ennathing more than a memory.”

  The messenger hesitated, casting a helpless glance toward Quinn, who nodded.

  “Aye. Tell her exactly that. No more, no less.”

  When the messenger was gone, Quinn looked back once more at the smaller ship, which now appeared ready as the remnants of the Malendroke’s crew prepared her to sail.

  “Ya broke our hearts, Callaghan. The least ya could do is tell me who the lucky girl is who stole ya away from us.”

  Quinn thought back to Sayyida, the Moroccan pirate captain whose ship she stole. Then she thought about Bronwen and the many nights they shared under the stars talking the night away. But in truth, it was Evan, Scottish second to a Galloglaigh warrior named Lake, who had captured Quinn’s heart.

  In the end, none of it mattered. None of them stayed long enough to hold her heart hostage. None of them had been enough to lure her away from the sea or the pirate life.

  “The truth is that no one occupies my pirate heart, Becca. Not a single soul. It belongs on the sea—on the deck of a ship, fighting for a free Ireland.”

  Two tears hung on Becca’s lower eyelashes. “Then the transformation is complete. Ya’ve become that which ya pretended to be.”

  Quinn nodded and backed away. “Aye, I truly have. It took a great deal of work to mend the scars put on my heart by a life at sea, but at least now I know who I am.”

  Becca closed the gap. “And who are ya, Kieran Callaghan? Who are ya, truly?”

  “Not Kieran, and please don’t call me that again. I know who I am now . . . who I want to be . . . who I need to be.” Quinn stood and bowed low, crushing Becca in a hug before backing away. “You know who I am, Becca. You have always seen me for who I am regardless of what I wear or how I act. It just took me a little longer to see it.”

  Becca nodded, her face slack with sadness. “And right now, I am seein’ ya fer the person I do not wish to know enna longer. Goodbye, Callaghan.”

  Quinn hesitated a moment before turning to leave.

  “I am so sorry to hear about Connor,” Becca said suddenly. “He was a good man.”

  “That he was.”

  A silence hung in the air between them. At last, Quinn filled it. “You loved me better than anyone, Becca. Better than I deserved. Thank you for that.”

  “And thank ya fer givin’ me the chance to love ya, Callaghan. Ya taught me I deserve better than to be grasped and squeezed by the calloused hands of drunken pirates.”

&n
bsp; Smiling, Quinn started back for the ship when she stopped and turned. “Mind if I ask who the lucky fellow is?”

  Becca laughed. “Ya may not.”

  Quinn nodded and turned back to the ship.

  “Lady Pettigrew.”

  Quinn stopped.

  “Her name is Lady Pettigrew, and she loves me verra well.”

  Slowly turning back, Quinn was grinning from ear to ear. “Seriously? You’re bedding the wife of the ship builder, James Pettigrew?”

  “The one and the same.”

  “Does he know?”

  “She is here. She cares fer me. Does it matter?”

  Quinn shrugged. “I suppose not.” And as she made her way to the small ship, which she now saw was called the Fortune Teller, Quinn couldn’t help but shake her head. The sea was indeed her mistress, and she’d never been happier to get back to her.

  She’d always loved being on the deck of a ship, but this time, as she walked up the gangplank of a ship she’d never been on before, Quinn felt her heart race.

  She’d come a long way since that very first day she cut off her long, auburn locks and donned male clothing. Everything about the pirate’s ways had been so foreign to her, from the way they spoke to the burps, farts, and grunts that passed as communication. They were a mystery to her. To pass as a man was one thing. To pass as a pirate aboard one of the most notorious pirate ships in the whole of Europe was another challenge all together.

  Yet she’d done it. Quite successfully.

  Until she realized she had no idea who she was any longer.

  Now she knew.

  She was Quinn Callaghan, pirate on the high seas, crewman of the Malendroke and second to Captain Grace O’Malley.

  Grace O’Malley.

  Nothing could have prepared Quinn for the likes of that headstrong and powerful woman who commanded ships of two-hundred-plus men. Grace O’Malley was a force to be reckoned with. When England began bringing up the Celtic chieftains and planting English people on large estates, Grace retaliated by exacting tolls on every ship crossing her path.

  It made her and her crew an enemy of the clan—and of the English governor in particular.

  Now Grace was going to plead her case with the only person capable of calling her dogs to heel.

  It was a bad—no, a very bad idea. The English queen, if Grace even got that far, would throw Grace and her crew in the Tower and leave them there as an example of what happens when one goes against the greatest sitting monarch in Europe.

  Quinn had to stop Grace before that happened, but before she could leave the port, she had one final piece of the puzzle to lock in place.

  “Callaghan!” Murphy, the cook, said, crushing her in a bear hug. “Damn good to see yer still alive and kickin’!”

  Quinn hugged him quickly before shoving him playfully.

  “Ya go and get all soft on me?” Murphy teased.

  The rest of the crew, one by one, hugged her, shook her hand, or patted her back. Some did all three.

  At the end of the long line was Logan and One Eye, two of those lucky enough to have survived the shipwreck with her and the nightmarish Inquisition that took the life of her best shipmate, Connor. Logan had survived and appeared on the other end of the island. He had been rescued by a passing ship and had slowly made his way back to Galway separately from Quinn. The others, she and Tavish had managed to save.

  “Glad to have ya back,” One Eye said, clapping his hand on her shoulders. “Ya been sorely missed.”

  “Good to be back. Is there any word from the Mal?”

  He scratched under his eye patch. “Innis told me he’d do what he could to slow her down, but you know how Captain is. Loves the speed, plus she’s in a hurry.”

  “New patch, Eye?”

  “Aye. Leather, it be. Got it off a guy who didn’t live to tell about it.”

  The crew surrounding them laughed and cheered, as was their way.

  Oh, how she had missed this. How had she gone so long away from them?

  “What’re yer orders, Captain?” One Eye asked.

  Quinn studied the awaiting faces of the men. “Captain? Are ya sure?”

  “Aye, we are,” Fitz said. “To a man, we all believe yer the only one fer the job.”

  Quinn felt a burst of emotion ran through her. “If I am to be your captain, then you need to know the truth about me.”

  “We know the truth, Callaghan,” Murphy said. “Ya weren’t really dead. No one believed it, ennaway, but it’s good to know ya made yer way back to us.”

  Quinn blew out a breath. “The reason I was gone, the reason I needed time away, is that I have been living a lie and it is high time I told you all the truth.”

  The men quieted way down.

  “When I came on board it was to find my best friend, Shea. Without your help, she would have suffered a horrible life as a slave. I needed your help but I did not know how to ask for it. I knew nothing about pirating or ships or––”

  “Don’t think we forgot what an amateur ya were, Callaghan!”

  “Yeah, Captain, ya was the worst!”

  They all laughed.

  Quinn held her hands up to quiet them. “I was the worst man on board the Mal because . . . ” She released the ponytail she had grown since she’d left the men and let it fall around her shoulders. “Because I am not a man.”

  The deck went silent. No one moved. No one breathed.

  Then, to her surprise, Murphy started laughing. “Well, thank the fuckin’ stars above ya finally admitted it!”

  Everyone laughed loudly.

  “Didja think we did not know?” Logan asked. “How stupid do ya think we are?”

  Quinn blinked, her mouth open but no words came out.

  “Callaghan, we’ve known since that first day ya got all dressed up like a woman. No man could have pulled that off.”

  “Wait. You knew?”

  “Aye,” Logan answered. “Didn’t seem important. We figured that you’d tell us in yer own time.” He shrugged. “So we let it be.”

  Quinn let her gaze wash over every single face, her heart swelling with more love and admiration for these men that she’d ever felt. Apparently, there was nothing more to discuss. “Well then, fellas, I say it’s high time we get this dinghy moving and see if we can’t make ourselves useful to our captain.” She turned to Murphy. “How are we on grub, Murph?”

  “Enough to weather any storm, Captain.”

  “Excellent. Logan? How does this ship look?”

  Logan stepped forward. Quinn and her fellow survivors hadn’t known Logan was alive until well after they had escaped Sayyida’s clutches. One by one, the survivors of the shipwreck had made the long journey back to the Malendroke or to Galway . . . and one by one, they had begun looking elsewhere for a leader to lead them.

  “She looks fast, Captain,” Logan said. “New rigging, decent masts, trimmed for speed. We’ll reach Captain O’Malley if this ship sails anything like she looks.”

  “Excellent. Well then, gentlemen, I see a great deal has happened since I’ve been away, not the least of which is the imprisonment of the queen of Scotland. Do any of you know where we might find Tavish McGee?”

  All heads nodded.

  Quinn laughed. “Then that’s our first and only stop. We’re gonna need Tavish, some galloglaigh, and our swords sharpened for any fighting we start. Once we get the big Scot, we race for the Thames. Any questions?”

  The men all stared at each other, unasked questions dangling in the air.

  “Spit it out fellas. We’ve no time for false bravado.”

  Logan stepped forward. “I think the crew is wonderin’ if yer here to stay, Callaghan.”

  Quinn looked from one face to the next. Dozens of men wanted to know if they could count on her as not just captain, but as a shipmate.

  “Well, boys, you know all my secrets now. And you know I’m here to keep Captain O’Malley and our crew safe. Now you can know this: I am never leaving again. I
belong on the deck of a ship with you ragtag buncha no-goods. If you have chosen me for your captain, then so be it. If you want someone else to lead, I will completely understand. No hard feelings.”

  “I say Callaghan as male or female is the best choice fer us!” Fitz yelled.

  The men all began cheering once more.

  “Ennaone have another name to throw in the hat?” Murphy called out.

  When no one replied, they cheered again.

  “Good. Now, let’s go pick up Big Red and some warriors because trust me, boys, we’ll not get out of England unscathed. If we can reach the Malendroke in time, we might be able to convince Grace that this is a bad idea.”

  “She’ll listen to ya, Callaghan,” came a voice from the back.

  “Aye,” another voice seconded. “If ennaone can talk her into comin’ home, it’s ya.”

  Quinn held her hands up to silence the men. “One thing we can know for sure: if the governor executes Tibbot, Grace will go on a rampage the like of which we have never seen. We cannot allow that to happen. Agreed?”

  The men nodded again.

  “Good. Now, let’s see how fast this dinghy can fly, fellas. I want to see her top speed!” She turned to Fitz and One Eye. “Fitz, the wheel is yours. Eye, yer my second mate. Keep the boys working, but don’t be too harsh.”

  “Aye.”

  When the Fortune Teller hit the open sea, Quinn was surprised by its speed as it cut through the water like a shark fin. It was much, much lighter and faster than the Malendroke, which meant two things: it didn’t carry as much, and it didn’t have as good firepower.

  Standing at the very bow of the ship, Quinn closed her eyes and let the salt air wash over her.

  Oh, how she had missed this.

  There was nothing else like the sea air to rejuvenate one’s spirit. She’d missed it when she was with Bronwen and had been waiting for the yearning, the aching, to end. When it didn’t she knew beyond any doubt that the sea truly was her mistress.