Cutthroat Crusades (The Plundered Chronicles Book 4)

by Alex Westmore

  Studying the map, she knew they would be in France within a few more hours. How would she get the message to a king who had all but abandoned Mary and Scotland? She couldn’t just pull into the port. Taking one of the small boats wasn’t wise either.

  If only she could—

  “Captain, we got problems out here.”

  Quinn opened the door to find Fitz standing there, sword in hand. “Aye?”

  “Spaniard hard to port comin’ fer us.”

  Quinn grabbed her sword and quickly followed Fitz to the deck, where she watched a galleon heading straight for them.

  “She’s not sailin’ light,” Fitz said, handing Quinn her telescope.

  Peering through it, she counted twelve cannons on the port side of a ship carrying a load but not a full one. If it were full they, no doubt, would not be making an aggressive move. Plunder would be no good without a booty haul.

  Lowering the scope, she gave Fitz the order. “Well, this is where we see whether or not the glaigh can fight in close quarters. Prepare the crew to board.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  When Fitz started shouting orders, Quinn felt her gut constrict. This would be her first real test on the sea commanding men who were used to swinging ten foot pikes and oversized swords like the claymore. It would turn the tides on the galleon’s favor if they were not proficient with the short sword.

  Quinn immediately pushed the thought out of her mind. The thought of losing any of her crew made her sick to her stomach, but if they lost here, it wouldn’t matter anyway. The galleon wasn’t looking for booty—or they’d have kept sailing by a ship that was sailing much lighter.

  Much lighter.

  Quinn jumped up on the captain’s deck and called to her crew to put down their arms and prepare to make a run of it.

  Fitz stared at her. “But Captain—”

  “Get us away, Fitz.” She turned to Tavish. “Fire all eight cannons now, mid ship. Innis, get those sails stretching at the ropes, and get us as far away as fast as you can.”

  Innis frowned. “We’re . . . runnin’?”

  Quinn nodded. “Aye. They aren’t coming for what we don’t have. They want the ship.”

  “But . . . ”

  Quinn waited. “But what, Innis?”

  “Captain O’Malley would take her on.”

  Quinn glared at him. “Well, lesson number one: I. Am. Not. Her. Go do as I said.”

  Innis hesitated only a moment before turning around and addressing those manning the sails.

  Tavish took the steps two at a time to Quinn.

  “Don’t you start on me, too, Tavish.”

  Tavish stopped in his tracks.

  “I won’t have you second-guessing me as well.”

  “Second-guessin’ ya, lad? I think it’s the best move ya got.”

  Quinn felt her stomach loosen. “Aye?”

  “Oh, aye. Nothin’ but loss can come from engagin’ those bastards. We carry a light load, have the wind at our backs, and aren’t lookin’ fer booty. I’d say yer makin’ the best decision possible.” He stared out at the approaching ship.

  “Add to that, the glaigh need more practice time fighting the short swing.”

  “That’s the truth, lad. They’re as likely to kill one of us as they are the Spaniards. Give it a few more days before we set them loose.”

  Quinn nodded as she watched her men expertly maneuver the ship into the best wind position. “Is there something else, old friend?”

  Tavish took one step closer. “Aye. Maggie has a suggestion I’m none too keen aboot, but I told her I’d ask ya.”

  Quinn cut her eyes to him. Maggie had softened him in ways only a woman could, and she was only mildly surprised he’d come to her with a suggestion from his wife. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Well . . . she kens we canna pull into port without fear of bein’ routed. She also kens sendin’ ya or enna of our men to court is as dangerous as the former. She is . . . well, she believes she and ya might be the safest way to get the message to court.”

  “Two women.” It wasn’t a question.

  Tavish nodded. “Her French is excellent. Yers is as well. Two women––”

  “Pose no threat to the French.”

  He nodded. “Ya could deliver it as noblewomen and be back before ya ken it.”

  Quinn barely nodded. “Very interesting. I’d never do so without your acceptance of such a plan.”

  This made Tavish laugh. “Lad, ya ken the situation better than that. My wife is everra bit as stubborn a Scots as her husband. It is not me decision to make. Yer the captain. On this ship, she is a member of this crew first, me wife second.”

  “While I appreciate that, Tavish, I am asking you as a friend. What do you want me to do?”

  He shook his head. “Ah lad, the same order of importance applies to me as well. As her husband, I frown on it, as yer most trusted man, I see the wisdom in it. Ya need to do what is best fer our crew, not one man.”

  Quinn patted him on the back just as the first cannon bellowed. It missed its mark by twenty or thirty yards.

  “I’ll let you know what I decide when we are safely away from that ship. Right now, we need to focus on that.”

  Tavish backed away. “Aye to that, Captain. Have no fear. We won’t be engagin’ those bastards enna time soon.”

  Quinn watched as the second ball took out one sail before landing far beyond the ship.

  She had no doubt Tavish would be right.

  Logan pulled the oars easily as they glided toward the coast of France.

  “Thank you again, Maggie. It is a brilliant idea.”

  “Pish-posh, Callaghan. It will be a brilliant idea once the three of us are safely back on the Emerald.”

  Quinn adjusted her tight corset for the fourteenth time. She had almost forgotten how uncomfortable those damned dresses were.

  It did not go unnoticed by Maggie. “Too used to pirate attire, eh?”

  Quinn nodded. “Oh, aye. This is unbearable.”

  “You know, someday, some woman will write about the way women’s clothes restricted our ability in order to keep us the weaker sex.”

  Quinn did not doubt Maggie being right about that.

  “I’ve been away from the noble life of my past for so long, I do not recognize it anymore.” Quinn tugged on the neckline of her bodice. “I feel a prisoner of material.”

  “I daresay I’ll have to try your clothing on in the near future. My own attire prohibits my movement aboard the ship.”

  “So, what do you think about life at sea?”

  Maggie thought for a moment. “The sea is a harsh mistress, to be sure, but when I watch the crew laughing, drinking, telling stories, I understand the pull. She is only part of the equation. There’s family, the freshness of the sea air, and the unpredictability of the weather.”

  “Are you ever afraid?”

  “Sometimes, but then, we’ve seen the worst of men, haven’t we? I suppose once you see that, there is a little to be afraid of.”

  “Tavish could not have lived through all of that without you.”

  “The reverse is true as well. He is an amazing man, and he is foolish about you.”

  Quinn felt her face heat with blush.

  “Oh, don’t be squeamish about a man’s genuine love for you, Callaghan. You are his kin every bit as much if you’d shared the same womb.”

  When they disembarked at the pier, Quinn and Maggie arranged for a carriage to take down to the summer palace that served as court during Henry’s reign.

  For the first hour, they rode in silence. When at last, Maggie spoke again, she did in English. “You’ve been very different since you got back. Care to talk about it?”

  Quinn stared out at the passing countryside. France was lush and green, but the queen was much more muted than the greens of Ireland. “Thank you, Maggie, but not right now.”

  “Your heart aches. I can see it in your eyes. You love her, aye?”

  Quinn
nodded without hesitation. “Like I’ve loved no other.”

  “She makes your heart sing.”

  “More than I can say.”

  “And yet, the two of you had to return to your separate lives. I find that terribly sad.”

  Quinn did not respond for a long time.

  “It’s all right, Callaghan. There will come a time when these monarchs stop trying to tear down our culture and our ways. Maybe then, you two can find common ground on which to live.”

  “I hope so, Maggie. The sea gets awfully lonely at times.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  When they finally arrived at the French court, Maggie spoke to as many men as she had to in order to get someone to believe they came bearing a message from the Queen of Scots.

  Four hours later, they stood in front of King Henry II, who stared down at them from an ornate throne.

  “This day has been long and grueling with petty land squabbles and goat ownership,” he said in French. “So when one of my most trusted men said there were two women bearing a scroll with Mary of Scotland’s seal, I must admit my ennui got the best of me. Since when does Mary send women to do her bidding?”

  Quinn deferred to Maggie since she was older.

  “Since she, as you know, has been taken prisoner by her cousin. The Queen of Scotland understands the temperament of the times, so she sent us knowing we would not be stopped as a man would.”

  Henry barely smiled. “Very wise, that woman. I would imagine she learned such guile by learning at the feet of Catherine de’ Medici.”

  Maggie did not respond.

  Henry, a tall angular man, snapped at one of his advisors, who held his hand out for the scroll. “If this is a base forgery, ladies, you will never see the light of day.”

  “It is not,” Maggie said calmly handing the scroll over.

  When the advisor handed it to Henry, he studied it very carefully. “Seal unbroken. If it is forgery, it is a very excellent one. Carefully breaking the seal, Henry perused its contents. “Very interesting. I should have known Mary would never simply give up. Her time in the French court taught her resolve, if nothing else.”

  “She has always put Scotland and her subjects before her own safety,” Maggie said.

  “Which is why it’s astounding she is still alive. Elizabeth should have beheaded her and been done with it.”

  Quinn opened her mouth to retort, but Maggie caught her eye. Quinn closed her mouth.

  Henry snapped his fingers once more, and a parchment and quill quickly appeared as if by magic. “It is most unfortunate Mary got herself arrested, but the truth is that we must support other Catholic monarchs.” He quickly scribbled on the parchment, his quill making scratching sounds as he did. “Elizabeth will destroy everyone to fulfill her idiot father’s wishes of European domination.” He shook his head as he rolled up the parchment and then dropped the sealing wax on the seam. “I cannot offer much, but if you manage to get this to Mary without being arrested yourselves, give her this message for me: Tell her King Henry admires her conviction and courage in the face of imminent danger.” He blew on the wax before handing it to his advisor. “And I must commend you, ladies for your courage in braving the sea to deliver this message. Now, it is late and unsafe for two women to be on the road. Might I offer accommodations?”

  Quinn started to say no when Maggie accepted.

  “We’d be honored.”

  Once Henry made the arrangements and got his people moving, Quinn and Maggie were escorted to one of the cottages within the palace walls.

  “Oh my, but this is just lovely,” Maggie said when they pulled up to the small cottage. There were two goats and three chickens in the front. “Please thank the king for us.”

  “I’ll have to do so in the mornin’, missus. The king has requested I watch over you for the night.”

  Quinn took a step forward, but Maggie got an arm around her waist just in time. “Thank you so much.”

  “If there is anything you need, please let me know.”

  When Quinn and Maggie entered the cottage Maggie closed the door and immediately placed her fingers to Quinn’s lips. “Eyes and ears everywhere,” she whispered.

  “Why did you say yes? We need to head back.”

  “I am well aware of that Callaghan, but you were so busy staring at the king, you failed to see all of the action happening behind us. People were whispering, and there were messengers moving about. We must act like two women in need of protection.”

  Quinn inhaled deeply. “I . . . I guess I have become accustomed to fending for myself and being viewed as someone who can take care of herself.”

  Maggie smiled kindly. “Please relax then. Look.” Maggie opened the door. “We are not being held hostage. We can leave at first light if you wish.”

  Quinn nodded “Aye.”

  “Now I, for one, am exhausted and am going to lie down on that very comfortable-looking French bed. I suggest you do the same.”

  After helping Maggie out of her dress, Quinn paced the living area, her bodice still inhumanely tight.

  She did not really know how much time had passed when the daylight gave way to dark, but when she finally sat in one of the high-back chairs, she was certain her body bore blisters it never should have.

  She’d certainly come a long way since that first day she stepped aboard the Malendroke. She’d not only traded dresses for more comfortable attire, she had created a family out of those most would have just thrown away.

  And she’d loved just about every minute of it.

  Except the losses.

  Those scars would never vanish; her heart would never be fully whole again.

  The life of a pirate was full of loss and gain, highs and lows, calm and battle. The unpredictability of it all was what made it so exciting, so adventurous.

  And so dangerous.

  Quinn wondered now what new danger lay waiting her and her new crew.

  And, more importantly, were they ready for it?

  Quinn and Maggie made a safe return to the Emerald and were underway shortly after they boarded the ship. The anxious crew members were, for the most part, still sober, which pleased Quinn.

  “You boys did a great job in my absence,” she said to Tavish, Innis, and Fitz. “Thank you.”

  “So, back to Scotland then?” Tavish asked.

  “Aye. I’m leaving it up to you and Maggie to deliver Henry’s reply.” She held her hand up before he could reply. “This ship is no place for your wife, Tavish. While I love having her on board, it is still dangerous. You have a home. A life. You both deserve the peace that comes with it.” Quinn levelled her gaze at him. “You would give me the same advice, old friend. Besides, I need you to take it for me.”

  Tavish rubbed the red and grey stubble on his beard. “Ya got me there, lad, but as fer me and Mags not bein’ on the water—yer gonna have to take that up with her. That woman’s got a mind of her own, she does. She kens the danger. It’s no different now.” Tavish laid a meaty paw on her shoulders. “I understand yer concern, in lighta what happened to yer girl, but danger lurks everrawhere, lad. I’d rather she be surrounded by our men than livin’ alone in our cottage.”

  “I can see that.”

  Tavish tucked the scroll inside his stained his jerkin. “We’ll get the message to Mary. After that, we shall see how everrathing plays out with regards to the missus.”

  Clapping Tavish on the back, Quinn grinned. “You’re a good man, Tavish McGee.”

  Tavish stepped closer to her. “Ya might be sendin’ me to stay in Scotland, lad, but I’ll not be sittin’ idly by twiddlin’ me thumbs. I intend on usin’ every source I have to find young Evan fer ya.”

  Quinn blinked.

  “My happiness don’t mean a thing, lad, if yer in misery. It’s not how that’s ever worked fer us. So, ya might consign me to land, but ya canna tell me what to do once I get there.” With that, Tavish strolled off the bow, down the steps, and had almost made it to the
gallery stairs when a loud bell rang from the crow’s nest. He ran back up the stairs to stand next to Quinn.

  “Jumpin’ Jesus!” The pirate named Littlefield yelled as he lowered his scope. “Ship offa the starboard side, Captain! And . . . and I’m pretty certain—”

  His words died off as he raised his scope once more.

  So did Quinn.

  And she needed no pirate in the crow’s nest to tell her what her eyes plainly saw.

  The Malendroke.

  And it was headed straight for them.

  Innis, Fitz, One Eye, and Tavish quickly joined her at the bow.

  “It’s Grace, all right,” Quinn said, handing her telescope to Tavish.

  “Maybe she got word about our ship,” Fitz said. “She is comin’ in hard and fast.”

  “Or our mission,” One Eye added.

  “It doesn’t matter how it is she’s here, boys,” Innis said. “She’s comin’, and comin’ mad.”

  All eyes turned to Quinn.

  “We cannot and will not assume the worst, men. We’re sitting too high for her to think we carry anything she wants.”

  “Unless she wants us,” One Eye said softly. “It’s possible she’s irate enough to engage us, Captain.”

  Quinn shook her head. “We are not fighting the Malendroke.”

  Tavish handed her the scope back. “Unless we run, lad, we may not have a choice.”

  Quinn studied the full-blown sail on the Malendroke’s mast and the sharklike way the ship cut through the water.

  She made her decision in an instant.

  “Hard to port, men. We are not fighting our old friends. I want speed, and I want it now!”

  Everyone but Tavish shot off in different directions.

  “She’ll give chase, lad. Ya ken?”

  Quinn nodded. “I do.”

  “Ya took her men and planted ’em all on another ship yer captain of. Like Sayyida, she got no choice but to hunt ya down.”

  “Think we can outrun her?”

  Tavish inhaled deeply. “How many ships did we ever have outrun us when we were on the Mal?”

  “Two.”

  He shrugged. “There ya have it. Long odds. I hate to point out the obvious, but––”