He smiled a grin full of rotting teeth. “Not every Englishmen follows that Protestant bitch queen. We are the followers of the true religion. Her little letter to you means nothing to us.”
Quinn shrugged. “Then who or what I am is of no consequence.”
He locked his head. “Wait. You’re Grace O’Malley, aren’t you? Sure you are! Irish pirate dressing like a man. What is it they call you? Scourge of the Seas or some such nonsense.”
“Or worse, but no. I am not she.”
Simon rose. “Of course you are. The men will be quite pleased to learn they are going to fuck a wanted queen pirate.”
“Be sure to also let them knew I’ve been to many, many exotic locations and bedded men from all over the world. It is entirely possible that whatever it is that causes itches and rashes can be transferred to any man foolish enough to risk it. I’m sure they’d wish to know what they are going to put their peckers into.”
Simon slowly rose and ran his hand across his face. “I didn’t take a Celt clan chieftain to be such a whore.”
“And I didn’t expect Reivers to be so desperate to bed a woman.”
Simon stared at her a moment. “You’d best have a rag in your mouth when we move you to the tent. No one wants to hear about how raggedy your pussy is.”
“Good enough to fuck but not good enough to talk about? You Englishmen are such inhibited pussies.”
Simon walked away, muttering curses at her. She could only wonder if he would share with them what she’d told them.
She doubted it.
Quinn would have to get herself out of this, and the first step would be to loosen the ropes that bound her.
Connor had once shown her how to get out of hemp bounds by tightening against them then loosening. Tightening then loosening. Quinn did this repeatedly as the men drank, caroused, and rolled the dice.
She was their trophy, and they were going to drink and be merry before stumbling over to their prize to have their way with her.
Stretch.
Release.
Stretch.
Release.
Quinn felt the rope become looser on her wrists until she could work her left hand out of her bonds.
Once her arms were free, she took off into the woods, arms churning as fast as she could go. She had no idea where she was going. Dusk had fallen, and she was running blind.
And then she smelled the horses and realized her mistake.
She’d run right into their horse tie-up where surely one of them stood guard.
She couldn’t stop now. No, she had to just keep churning her arms and legs even as the horses snuffled and stamped their feet.
As the branches whipped across her face, Quinn heard footsteps behind her.
Still, she pushed forward.
But her legs were getting fatigued and she knew she’d have better luck if she turned and fought.
So she did.
The look on her pursuer’s face was priceless as Quinn started for him, her fist connecting with his temple.
His head rocked back but he remained standing long enough to deliver a blow to Quinn’s throat.
She dropped to her knees, pain radiating down her throat, tears springing into her eyes.
Her attacker kicked her in the chest, and she fell to her back, barely able to breathe.
He stood over her and unbuckled his belt. “Looks like Lady Luck is on my side. I didn’t have to play no dice to get first crack at ya.”
Quinn rose up on her elbows, her breathing labored, her throat throbbing, but even through her watering eyes she could see the enormous member of the man in front of her.
“This is gonna hurt like hell,” he said, stroking his member. It seemed to come alive and grow in his hand. “You gonna take your pants off or do I have to do it for you?”
“Fuck you,” Quinn growled. “I’m not making this easy on you. You want it, you’re gonna have to fight me for it.” Now on one knee, she held her fists out in front of her.
“First things first, whore. I’m gonna shove my cock down your throat, just to shut you up.”
“Do it and I’ll sever it from your body.” As Quinn tried to get to her feet, he backhanded her with his free hand. She fell to her side.
Grabbing her by her hair, he put his semi-hard dick near her face. “Open up, bitch, and suck me.”
Quinn glared up at him, her mouth still closed.
Grabbing her chin, he was forcing her mouth open when a spear shot through his chest. He looked down at it in disbelief.
“Who’s sucking now, fucking bastard?” Quinn grabbed the spearhead and pulled it through him, killing him before his knees hit the ground.
When she looked up, she expected to see Tavish. The spear was of the galloglaigh, so she knew it was a Scottish warrior.
She hadn’t expected it to be Evan.
“Evan?”
“Ya gonna lay around all day, ya silly Irishman, or what?” Evan flew into Quinn’s arms and helped her to her feet. “We canna dally here, Cap. The others will be here shortly.” Helping Quinn to her horse, Evan boosted her up then mounted the horse.
“Where’s . . . Lake?”
“Lake went with your men to see Mary. He felt his presence would make Mary believe in the message. I told him I was comin’ here instead. Told him my lover might be in trouble. He understands. He . . . understands everrathin’ actually.”
Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. “Everything?”
“Aye. Awhile back I told him how I felt about ya—what ya meant to me. Told him I fell in in love with a bloody Irishman. He chuckled and said he wasna at all surprised. Said he kenned it long ago—that I was different after meetin’ ya.”
“Different how?”
“Calmer. Happier. He said there was a joy he’d not ever seen from me. Joy. I wasna even sure I’d felt that before ya.”
Joy. Quinn knew exactly what that feeling was like. She’d felt it that first time she and Evan had made love.
Evan had brought joyful magic to her heart that lingered there like jasmine in a cool breeze. She knew she’d missed her little laoch cuidich, that she could not wait till that day she would hold her again, but it wasn’t until she saw her that she realized how much she had longed to be with her.
“Not a day goes by I don’t think of you, Evan. And sometimes, in a day, not an hour goes by that I don’t see your beautiful smile. I have missed you so much. So very much.”
Evan snaked a hand around Quinn’s waist and kissed her gently on the lips. “Aye. When I heard ya were at the border, I kenned I had to see ya—that I might not ever get the chance to do so again.”
“But how did you ever find me?”
“Two stolen horses to start. Follow that with askin’ about a thick Scot with a pretty boy, and it was fairly easy.”
“Those . . . those Reivers . . . ”
“Are devils on earth, love. They are sick and evil men not interested in enna crown or money. They are usin’ the times to act out their impurities and to release their evil spirits. They are demons, Cap.” She visibly shuddered. “The things they would ha’ done to ya.”
Quinn felt a chill run down her spine. “You reached me just in time.”
“Not the first time either, eh?” Evan grinned and kissed Quinn again. “We’re bound, ya and me. Not just by love, either. By so much more.”
Quinn leaned back into Evan. She’d never felt softer or gentler than she did at this moment. “Thank you.”
“It’s what we do fer each other, Cap. Ya and me? Not many like us. Our love? Uncommon, but not as they say, unnatural. Lovin’ ya is as easy as breathin’ . . . and just as necessary.”
“And boy, am I glad of it.”
“I got just one question for ya.”
“Aye?”
“Is it true ya took the Moroccan queen’s ship right out from under her nose?” Evan laughed. “Ya steal more than just hearts, aye?”
Sayyida.
The Moroccan pirate Quinn had
bedded before stealing her ship. The act had almost cost Quinn her life at the most, her friendship at worst. It was a transgression Sayyida should not have overlooked. In a way, she didn’t, but these captains must save face if anyone ever pushes back. Taking her ship had been more than a push back. It was a complete and total disregard for her position.
“Did ya love her, too?”
Quinn shook her head. “No. Not like this. Not like us. I did care about her, but not as much as I cared about my crew. I did what I had to do to save us.”
“Then that is all that matters. A galloglaigh or a laoch cuidich understands that we make no judgment on ennaone who protects their people.” Evan lightly kissed Quinn’s neck. “No judgments. I’m just glad I got to ya in time, Cap.”
Quinn turned and lightly brushed Evan cheek with the back of her hand. She was the softest thing Quinn had ever touched. “So am I. So where are we heading?”
“As far away from the border as we can. It is different gettin’ through here when––”
Suddenly, their horse rose up, front legs kicking at the air. Evan held on to the reins with one hand while Quinn slid off, landing firmly on her feet in the fighting stance the galloglaigh had taught her on board the Malendroke what felt like a lifetime ago.
Eight men came out from the bushes, swords and bows drawn. One sent an arrow through the neck of the horse, which Evan leapt from, sword drawn.
“Cap.” Evan tossed a short sword to Quinn, who caught it by the hilt.
“Going somewhere?” the shortest Reiver said in poor Gaelic.
Evan stood back to back with Quinn. “I have five over here,” she said in Scottish.
“Three.”
“Good odds.”
“For whom?”
“Are those the same men?”
Quinn looked at their faces. “No.”
“I say we attack first. My left to yer right. Stay on yer feet. As long as we stay on our feet, we’ll get out of this okay. When this is over, ya better marry me.”
“Stop yakking that ugly language,” one of them said in English. “My God, I’ll slit your throats just so I don’t have to hear it any more.”
Quinn didn’t think she heard what Evan had said right, but she did not have time to ask as the archer raised his bow and pulled back the string.
He would have had them dead right then, but end over end her sword flew until it embedded in his chest. Without a weapon, she now had to wait for the two in front of her to come to her.
Behind her, all she could hear was the clanging of swords and the grunting of the men swinging them.
“No sword, no knife, not even a fucking spoon,” one of the Reivers said in English.
“And I’ll still kick yer arse into tomorrow.” Readying her stance, Quinn waited until the one on the left got close enough for a leg sweep.
When the galloglaigh taught them the special way the Shaolin monks fought, most of the crew thought it ridiculous. Bronwen had convinced Quinn of the value of this kind of fighting, and she’d made her practice it daily.
She would make Bronwen proud.
When he went down on his back, Quinn chopped him in the neck, took his sword, and ran him through with it.
However, in doing so, the sword got caught between his ribs, and before she could pull it out completely, the second Reiver pierced her side with his sword.
Quinn went down on one knee, Evan’s warning echoing in her head.
Grabbing the sword, she pulled herself up on it to the hilt, where she punched the incredulous Reiver in the throat before driving her elbow into his heart. As he fell backwards, she painfully pulled the sword from her side, gripped it with both hands, and plunged it into his chest.
Turning, she realized Evan was in trouble. There were too many men coming at the little cuidich. As Quinn rose, the world went hazy and she lost her balance. Down she went on top of the still legs of the man she just killed.
Reaching to her side, she felt the warm blood as it oozed onto her fingertips. “No.” The last image she saw was Evan fighting desperately to stay alive.
Then all at once, the foggy grey edges slowly changed to black, and Quinn wondered briefly if she would open her eyes or see Evan alive again.
Her eyes fluttered open. A beautiful face before her. Then they closed again.
Quinn could hear her heart banging within her head. She winced at some pain in her side. Had she been stabbed? Think, Callaghan. What is wrong with your side?
The question fell away as she returned to slumber.
Hands touching her gently. Soft voices whispering to her, around her, over her,
A song gently filling her ears.
The scent of meat lingering in her nose.
She’d smelled that aroma before.
When?
Where?
Why couldn’t she open her eyes?
More unanswered questions as she felt her body go slack once more.
A familiar voice. How many hours or days had she lain here without opening her eyes? Where was she?
That aroma of mint.
More song in the space between life and death.
Quinn struggled to open her heavy eyelids. Come on, Callaghan. You’re a fucking pirate who has killed dozens of men, and you can’t even open your goddamned eyes.
“ . . . one more day. She needs one more day.”
Her body felt not at all like her own as she drifted back to sleep.
Morning birds singing.
Humming near a crackling fire.
Quinn focused all her energy on opening her eyes. It took a herculean effort . . . that word . . . she’d used it before . . . but about what? What and whom?
Her eyes fluttered open.
“She’s awake. Keep her awake, or there will be hell to pay.”
That voice. She knew that gravelly voice well.
“There will be hell to pay if she moves around prematurely. She is a fast healer—almost magically so. I wonder––”
“Doona wonder. Just keep her alive and awake.”
Tavish?
Yes.
No.
Wait.
He’d not been with her, right?
No.
He was, then wasn’t. Right?
The haze in Quinn’s head remained, clouding fact from fiction, blurring the line between reality and perception.
She’d been run through, yes? She focused on her side. Yes. Run through and bloody. They must have left her for dead.
Wait.
Who were they?
Ah, yes, Reivers had attacked her and . . . Tavish?
No, that couldn’t be right. Tavish hadn’t been at the Reiver camp with her. It was . . . It was . . .
“Evan!” Quinn’s eye popped open now, and she struggled to get up.
“Easy, Callaghan. Do not undo all of the work I’ve done to keep you alive, or you will wish you’d have stayed in your dark slumber.”
The face in front of hers was beautiful, with clear sapphire eyes looking into her own. The face was framed by long, red locks that seemed to have a life of their own.
This woman was not Evan.
Quinn struggled to sit up. “Who . . . ”
The woman gently pressed her chest back to the bed. “I am Gillian. A healer. Your friend Tavish sought me out. Good thing, too. You were dying from your wound.”
“Tavish?”
“Aye, lad. Right here. Ya gave me an awful scare. When I found ya, ya looked dead. Ya lost a lotta blood. Gillian here is a Mistress of Healing. Best in the lowlands. How ya feelin’?”
Quinn assessed her physical condition. “Sore. Weak. I have to get up, Tavish. The Reivers . . . I think they killed Evan. Last I saw––”
“If they did, she wasn’t among the dead. I checked everra body for life. She wasn’t there, lad.”
A cold fear gripped Quinn’s heart. “If she’s not dead . . . ” She struggled to sit up once more. “How long have I been here?”
“Two nights
. Gillian gave ya somethin’ fer sleep so she could repair yer wound.”
“Thank you.”
Gillian nodded. “The sword went through muscle, but I do not believe it did any damage to anything important. Loss of blood means loss of life, and it will take a while for you to get your energy and life essence back.”
“I don’t have a while. Not while Evan is out there in the hands of those Reivers.” Her eyes filled with tears as she turned to Tavish. “You don’t know what they’re capable of . . . what they wanted to do to me.” Two tears rolled down her face and she impatiently wiped them away.
Gillian placed a hand on Quinn’s wound and closed her eyes. “I have repaired your injury, but should you try to ride, you will tear them open. I have a salve on it now to keep the angry heat away, but you mustn’t strain yourself or you will not be able to help your friend.”
Quinn sniffled. “I can’t lie here and do nothing. Tavish, you know I can’t. And won’t.”
Tavish nodded and addressed Gillian. “Callaghan will sneak out at night and hurt himself tryin’ to get away. He’s gonna do what enna man would do whose woman was taken.”
Gillian frowned. “He? I’m sorry. I don’t think I understand.”
Quinn chuffed. “The men are more comfortable with the words they used before I told them I was a woman. I just let it go. It matters not to me one way or the other.”
“I see. Well then . . . it appears I am going to need to offer you a better patch than the one on you now.”
Quinn’s eyes watered again. “I thought you’d try to stop me.”
Tavish barked a laugh. “Stop ya? Ya? Are ya kiddin’ me, lad? I’ve kenned ya long enough to ken when one oughtta move outta the way.” Tavish moved closer to the bed. “But Gillian is right about ridin’. Ya canna be enna help to Evan if yer dead or dyin’ of fever.”
“I need you to find Lake.”
“Had a feelin’ that’s what ya’d want.”
“I know you don’t want to leave me, Tavish, but even if I were healthy, the two of us can’t take on a camp full of Reivers. We need help.”
“If I can find other glaigh, I’ll bring them first.”
Quinn shook her head. “You do that and anything happens to Evan, Lake will never forgive us. You must bring him.”
Cutthroat Crusades (The Plundered Chronicles Book 4) Page 10