Becca had understood that, but in the end, even she was unwilling to wait around for Quinn to love her.
Quinn felt that loss now. That Becca had found and turned to another woman boggled Quinn’s mind. She realized the hubris in thinking she was the only woman Becca could love, that their peculiar bond was special. For Becca to turn to another woman so surely had surprised her. Shouldn’t have, but did. Lady Pettigrew was the antithesis of Quinn—she was soft, gentle, kind, and probably very loving.
Becca deserved as much, if not from Quinn, from someone else.
Then there was Fiona. She’d been Quinn’s greatest love and hardest challenge. Married with a two-year-old named Gallagher after Quinn’s real last name, Fiona was the family Quinn would never have. When Fiona’s husband Robert told Quinn it was time to leave, Quinn took her leave, knowing it was the only real option open to her.
That didn’t make it hurt any less.
Could she have gone to help Fiona? Of course she could, but it was no longer her place. Quinn could no longer jump every time Fiona was in distress . . . especially once Grace’s dilemma had come to light.
No, Quinn was certain she’d made the right choice. Grace needed her more. Maybe she always had. And while she and Grace had never been more than friends and shipmates, Quinn’s loyalty to Captain Grace O’Malley was legendary.
“She’s pretty fast,” One Eye said from behind her.
“Aye. That she is. Ya really think Innis can slow the Mal without Grace being aware?”
“Aye. Innis is well aware of what’s at stake, Callaghan, as are the men on this boat. The Thames ain’t easy to just sail. Gonna have to slow her down one way or the other.”
Quinn waited for him to continue.
“We live by the sword and we die by the sword, and if Grace O’Malley pulls hers, the rest will follow. We’re not afraid to die, Callaghan. We’re more afraid of living without her.”
And there it was.
The real reason why she could so easily choose Grace over Fiona.
“You think we can quickly find Tavish?” Quinn asked.
One Eye grinned “Oh, aye. The Scottish bastard sits on the same pier everra day, fishin’. Ya can’t miss him.”
“Fishing?”
He nodded. “Aye. The men think he’s waitin’ fer ya to come get him.”
“Truly?”
“Aye. What’s an old dog like Tavish gonna do with nothin’ but time? Believe me. He is prolly itchin’ to get back to some kinda action. A man can’t just sit around all day fishin’.”
Quinn sighed loudly. “Didn’t think I could ever miss anyone as much as I miss that beast.”
One Eye jutted his chin out at a pier. “And here we are.”
Quinn turned to look at the pier.
There sat Tavish, on the far end of the pier fishing. When he shielded his eyes from the sun, he dropped his pole and slowly rose.
Quinn waved to him from the Fortune Teller. “Avast, ya land-lubbin’ misfit! I understand you’ve been waiting for me!”
A large grin leapt across Tavish’s weathered face. “Well it’s about time, lad. I was beginnin’ to lose faith in the whole lotta ya.”
Quinn lowered herself in a small rowboat and made her way to the pier, where Tavish yanked her from the boat and crushed her to his chest. “Well, aren’t ya a sight fer sore eyes, lad?” Tavish stood back, his hands still on her shoulders, and examined her. “Keeping yer hair tied back, eh? Ya look like a real pirate now.”
“Who ya foolin’, ya lout? I’ve always looked like a real pirate. Now I just look like the female version of me.”
Tavish tossed his head back and laughed. “That ya do. Ya look healthy. Settled. Calmer. A wee bit too thin . . . but damn, it’s good to see ya.”
“I had things I needed to sort out, but we can catch up on all of that later.” Quinn looked over Tavish’s shoulder and watched as Maggie, his wife, walked down the dock with a burlap sack in hand.
Maggie had saved them all by saving the man Quinn called her best mate. Maggie was kind and loving, with the strong shoulders a man needed in a wife. She took no guff from anyone, man or woman, and was incredibly skilled and adept at the art of healing.
In short, she was a great addition to the family.
“Married life treating you well, old friend?”
Tavish nodded. “A good woman is a must if ya wanna be a good man.”
“And are you now?”
“I am . . . and damn tired of it, too.” He chuckled, a sound Quinn had truly missed hearing.
Maggie embraced Quinn tightly. “He better say yes, or I’m afraid he will not be coming with you.”
Tavish smiled widely. It was the grin of a happy man, and he seemed happier than Quinn ever remembered him being. Maggie was good for him. “Maggie is the best thing to ever happen to me, lad. I couldna be happier.”
Quinn looked to Maggie, who was shaking her head. “He could be happier, Callaghan, if he could step back on that ship of yours.” Maggie handed the sack to Quinn. “Take him before he drives me to drink.”
Quinn took the sack. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, love, he’s been going round in circles without you, Callaghan. The man needs something to do. Please. Take the bloke off my hands for a wee bit of an adventure so I can rest my feet a spell.”
“I’m afraid this is far more than a wee bit, Maggie.” Quinn sat down on the pier and explained everything to them.
They listened in silence until she was done. When she was finished, Maggie rose. “Well then, what are you waiting for? Husband? I believe there’s a ship out there waiting for you. Go on, now. Get moving.”
Tavish joined her. “Aye. Sounds like Grace isna thinkin’ with her right mind, so let’s not waste another second, lad.” Tavish turned to Maggie. “I appreciate yer understandin’, me wife, but it sounds like they need me.”
Maggie kissed his nose. “Of course they need you. Like they need a hole in the head.” She chuckled. “I’ve always known where your heart lies, my love. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Quinn cleared her throat. “Um, actually, Maggie, we are short-handed on this little ship, and we could sure use a healer with your experience onboard.” Quinn locked eyes with Tavish. “What do you say? You willing to let your wife sail with us?”
Tavish took Maggie’s hand. “One thing I know fer certain is no one makes decisions fer me wife. If she wants to go, it’s up to her.”
“I won’t lie, Tavish. This is going to be incredibly dangerous. We’re sailing up the Thames after Grace.”
“I’d rather die fighting beside my husband than sit around waiting fer ya to deliver his body to me, so if it’s all the same to ya, I’d like to join ya.”
Quinn had never doubted they would both join her.
An hour later, the three boarded the Fortune Teller, where they were met with back clapping and huzzahs.
“Okay, Fitz, let’s get this tiny tub moving,” Quinn called out.
As the Fortune Teller hit her stride and clipped along at a good, fast pace, Tavish joined Quinn on the bow.
“Ya look good, lad,” Tavish said softly. “Time in the woods seemed to have helped.”
Quinn pulled out her telescope and surveyed the horizon. “It did. I had a lot to . . . figure out.”
“And did ya?”
Quinn thought for a moment before nodding. “Aye. Bronwen helped me a great deal.”
“Good. So, tell me ya got a plan and that we’re not just sailin’ after a crazy captain hellbent on gettin’ killed.”
Quinn lowered the scope and looked at him. A few more strands of grey ran through his orange beard, and the hair at his temples had greyed seemingly overnight, but he was still the man she considered her best friend.
“I’ve missed you, old friend. Well, I’ve missed all of this.”
Tavish stared out at the sea. “Aye. There’s nothin’ like this, eh, lad? Us on the water, layin’ her out. Just like old times.”
<
br /> “Aye, Tavish. Just like old times.”
They stood side by side, letting the sea air caress their faces as the ship skimmed across the water.
Tavish finally said, “So . . . the plan?”
“The plan is to keep Grace from doing something foolish.”
Tavish chuckled. “Looks like we’re back to where we started then, aye? Savin’ Grace from herself.”
Dropping her arm over his shoulders, Quinn matched his chuckle. “Truer words were never spoken, my friend.”
Quinn lit the battered lantern in her small, cramped quarters and rolled out the map on the splintered table against the wall. Studying the map, she traced the Thames with her index finger. It was a winding river that would pass under a number of castles and fortresses meant to protect the English people from attack. Since they were sailing under the Irish flag, Quinn could only hope the English allowed them safe passage. She’d accept safer passage.
She doubted she’d get it.
Tensions were running high between Catholic and Protestant nations. While Ireland was definitely the former, her pagan ways were still firmly rooted in her heart. It was only a matter of time before the Catholics and the Protestants destroyed each other. Maybe then the more peaceful ways could come back into being.
Quinn could only hope.
As she examined the map, she realized she would have to disguise the ship as a merchant vessel as much as possible in order to avoid suspicion. It would be easier to do with this smaller ship.
Laying her palms on the table like Grace used to, Quinn stared at the fading map. She knew she’d have to intercept Grace before the second major bend in the Thames river, where one of the fifteenth-century fortresses perched on a cliff overlooking the river. That would be the first wave of attacks on the Malendroke.
It would be a sitting duck if Grace couldn’t get through the passage swiftly and without taking on too much damage from the attack on high.
“Damn it, Grace,” Quinn muttered. “You’re sailing right into the line of fire. You know better than this.”
A knock came at her door. When she opened it, there stood Tavish, the same glint in his eye he always got whenever they were adventuring.
Damn, she’d missed this old goat.
The last time they’d been on an adventure, he had set her up in a fight to the death on Sayyida al Hurra’s ship. Quinn and her crew had stolen her ship and made a fool of the female captain, Quinn’s one-time lover. Tavish had been part of the plan, so before he took to land he made sure, once again, that Quinn was safe from adversaries and other villains.
Such was his way.
“This ship, fer its size, is clippin’ right along, lad. If the winds fair us and Innis slows her down, we oughtta catch up to her before end of the day tomorra. Best guess, of course.”
“Of course. Come on in.”
Tavish had to turn his thick frame sideway to make it through the door.
“I can see her getting into trouble here, here, and possibly here.” Quinn pointed to each location as she spoke.
“Might she plan on takin’ to the land? Hell, it would be smarter than a head-on plunge into Elizabeth’s territory by water.”
Quinn shook her head. “No. She’s going to sail right up to London. She’d never come through the back door. Her pride would never allow her. She is going to see Elizabeth as one queen to another.”
Tavish sucked his teeth. “This could slide sideways on us, Callaghan. If Grace really believes she is Elizabeth’s equal, that’ll not sit well with that queen.”
“Indeed.”
“It’s too bad Mary couldna make her way to the throne. All of this could have been avoided.”
Quinn placed her hand on his shoulder. “I heard about Mary. I’m so sorry.”
Tavish shrugged. “We did all we could do, lad, to keep her on the throne. In the end, Elizabeth is just too threatened by her. There’s nothing we could ha’ done to stop that.”
Quinn nodded. “I know, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. I’m just sorry that Elizabeth felt the need to imprison her cousin.”
Tavish shrugged. “Monarch politics is far outta our reach, lad. All we can do now is prepare to fight fer the only queen left worth savin’.”
“Fight. You really think Elizabeth will send more troops into the lowlands?”
Tavish nodded. “The Border Reivers have been skirmishing fer months. Those men are killers of the worse kind. Many of the galloglaigh won’t fight them because those Reivers care not if they live or die. They live for the dirty fight and the bloody battles.” He shook his head. “Worst men to fight are those who doona care if they live or die.”
Quinn had heard of the Border Reivers and their masochistic ways, but she’d chalked it up to rumor.
The rumors were true.
Those men were hooligans. Monsters of the worst degree. “If it’s a war Elizabeth wants, she’s going to have to take on Scotland, Ireland, France, and Spain. Surely she doesn’t think she can beat us all.”
Tavish sighed. “I suppose we’re gonna find out.” He studied the map before looking up at her. “Ya want the galloglaigh’s help?”
The galloglaigh.
Just the word made Quinn smile.
The glass, as they were called for short, were Scottish warriors who worked for highest bidder. Mercenary was probably a better term than warriors, but Quinn happened to be in love with a laoch cuidich, a second to one of the greatest fighters Quinn had ever met, so she felt like she understood them better than most Irish did. Lake was the leader of the glass who helped them in the past. He was an extraordinary warrior and tree trunk of a man who bore many a battle scar on his body. His second was Evan, the woman who owned Quinn’s heart. When they had parted ways it was not because they did not care for each other, for surely they did. They had to acknowledge that a fish and a horse could not survive in each other’s world. So, when they parted, it was with a heavy heart and the understanding that if they were ever in the same area, they could seek each other out.
Of course, Evan and Lake could be in Scotland or Morocco for all she knew.
Quinn closed her eyes and thought of Evan’s lips on hers, her hands on Evan’s body. Evan was like Quinn in so many ways and nothing like her in others.
Another woman passing as a man in a very male world, Evan was a brilliant fighter, a beautiful lover, and a loyal friend. Not a day went by that Quinn didn’t think of her or wonder where she was. In the dead of the night, Evan had stolen her heart.
Quinn wanted it back.
No, strike that—Quinn wanted her back. Fish and horse be damned, she wanted to be with the little Scot if even for one night.
But just as there was no place for Quinn in Fiona’s world, there was no place for an Irish pirate in the world of the Scottish mercenaries.
No place at all.
So they parted ways six months ago, and Quinn could still taste Evan on her lips.
Maybe she always would.
“Lad?”
Quinn pulled herself from her reverie. “Huh? Sorry.”
“Ya miss her, aye?”
She gazed into Tavish’s face. He had always been more astute in reading people than she realized. It always came as a surprise when it shouldn’t have. He had proven his skills time and time again. “Aye. More than I want to. More than I should.”
He made a rough noise in his throat. “Bein’ out and about on land, I heard a great deal aboot what’s goin’ on. I heard Lake’s men are helpin’ beat back the English soldiers in the lowlands. On the borders.”
“Oh? So they’re still in Scotland.”
“Have been since they left us. Scotland needs all the warriors it can get. Elizabeth is makin’ a big push into our lands. For the first time, the glass are workin’ fer our people because they know if we fall to Elizabeth, their days are numbered as well.”
“So she’s—they are in Scotland. That’s good. I can’t imagine the Scottish people are too happy that Mary’s
been imprisoned.”
“That’s where yer wrong, lad. The Protestants are thrilled Mary was ousted. It’s a strange, strange world when a Protestant queen rules a Catholic nation and her Catholic cousin rules a Protestant nation.” He shook his head. “Mark my words, ya Irish oughtta dig in and fight fer yer independence before she gets her claws in ya.”
Quinn studied Tavish a moment. He’d been charged by Fiona nearly seven years ago to watch over Quinn. Since then, they’d become more than brothers in arms. He was her best friend and confidante who had withstood torture to protect Quinn and the others. They’d been through a great deal together, the worst of which was that horrific torture at the hands of the Spanish Inquisitors, one of whom brought a hammer down on Tavish’s sword hand in an effort to get him to talk.
She shot a quick look down at his mangled hand. “How’s that hand of yours?”
Tavish held up a gnarled hand that resembled a claw. “I can hold a modified dagger with it, but I’m afraid I’ll be a lefty the rest of my life.”
“Well, you left-handed is better than most men right-handed.”
He stood a little taller. “Maybe that’s true, lad, but we best not test it. I can still punch a man out with one punch.” He flexed the mangled hand. “And I never feel a thing now.”
“Good to know. Now, I need you to make sure the men are in fighting condition. I’ve been gone half a year and have no idea what shape they’re in.”
“I can do that, lad.” Tavish started for the door then stopped and turned. “I ken how men doona care to have a female on board so I appreciate ya smoothin’ everrathin’ over aboot havin’ Maggie on board.”
“Maggie might not be a fighter, but keeping fighters alive and well is perhaps the more important job.”
“Aye, but ya and Grace are natural leaders, lad. I ken it, the men ken it, and the rest of the seafaring beasties ken it. My wife? Well, she may not be able to lead, but she can keep a man breathin’.”
“The men know she saved your life. They know her skills. They’re happy to have another healer on board.”
Tavish lowered his voice. “Are ya thinkin’ we’re gonna need it?”
Quinn held his gaze before slowly nodding. “I’m afraid we might, my friend.”
Cutthroat Crusades (The Plundered Chronicles Book 4) Page 3