Tavish snickered. “Who’da thought Innis, of all people, would take such care and caution with yer reputation?”
Quinn nodded as the Malendroke disappeared from sight. She and Innis had started out enemies—now look at them. She could only shake her head in wonder.
Fitz took the steps two at a time. “The men have been given the plan, Callaghan. All we gotta do now is drop off Tavish and the missus to deliver the king’s message.”
“And the glaigh?”
“Will go with Tavish. It appears we needed them not.”
Quinn shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Fitz. We needed them a great deal. I believe Grace would have boarded us if we hadn’t shown her our strength in them. Those warriors’ presence possibly saved a lot of bloodshed.”
“I agree, lad. Now, it’s time fer them to get back to the land they love and start leavin’ English heads.”
Quinn waited for someone to mention Evan. When no one did, she felt a combined sense of relief and sadness. “You’re right, Tavish, and I think sending them with you would be a great plan.”
“What about ya, Callaghan? What will ya do once ya drop us off in Scotland?”
“Well, we have to pay our dues to Lady Killigrew first, so there’s a wee bit of plundering and pirating that needs be done before we send you on your way. Once we have enough to pay her back, we’ll return to Ireland to establish our home base.”
“Not Galway, then?” Fitz asked.
Quinn shook her head. “Lady Killgrew first. We’ll get Tavish and the glaigh horses and supplies.”
“Verra well then. I’ll let the crew know.”
Quinn held her face up to the partially blocked sun and closed her eyes.
Somehow, someway, she would get Innis back and make amends with Grace O’Malley . . . because she knew if she didn’t, she would forever be looking over her shoulder, and that would never do.
“I’m afraid Elizabeth has signed Mary’s death warrant.”
Quinn stared openly at Lady Killigrew. “What? No. Are you certain?”
They had just stepped off the Emerald, the glaigh happy to be safely on land once again. The galloglaigh had been as calm as they could be on the ship, but they were land warriors and fighters, not seamen.
“She is due to be executed day after tomorrow.”
“How can ya be so sure?” Tavish asked. He stood holding Maggie’s hand.
“I pay well for spies at both courts,” Lady Klligrew replied, not taking her eyes off Quinn. “And one thing is certain: Mary will be executed.”
Maggie pulled Tavish back to her. “Lady Killigrew, my husband here is a Scot who has his mind and heart set on doing everything he can to save the queen. Are you certain your sources are infallible?”
Lady Killigrew shifted her gaze from Quinn to Maggie. “I wish, at times, they were not so correct, but they are seldom wrong and never bring me rumors. Ever.”
Quinn held her hand up to cease any more questions. “Milady, we have brought enough gold to repay you for your kindness in procuring this ship for our older Fortune Teller. I believe it is more than sufficient for the ship and provisions you were kind enough to stock it with.” Quinn handed her a bulging purse filled with coins.
Taking the purse, Lady Killigrew said, “A pirate of her word. Imagine that. So, what can I do for you, Captain?”
The answer to that question came two hours later when Lady Killigrew’s men arrived with twenty horses and more than enough food and whiskey for three times the men waiting to be fed.
Tavish had wanted to leave to leave immediately, but cooler head prevailed—that head being Maggie’s.
When the banquet was laid out and the crew eating, drinking, and singing songs. Quinn Lady Killigrew, and Maggie sat apart from the ribaldry and made plans.
“Your husband needs to know the very real danger of trying to free Mary this time around. If he’s caught, he will surely hang.”
Maggie sipped her whiskey and nodded once. “My husband isn’t one to back away from any cause he sees as just, simply because of a fear of hanging.”
Lady Killigrew tossed her head back and laughed. “Oh dear, I believe our husbands are night and day. Mind is too cowardly to step foot into a brawl.”
“While mine will jump in with both feet.”
Quinn finished her whiskey in one big gulp. “So that’ll be it, then? Mary will be executed and Elizabeth will take over Scotland?”
Lady Killigrew frowned and shook her head. “Oh, I don’t believe Elizabeth can do that right now; no. Baby James will have the throne and Elizabeth will rule by proxy, is my guess. We are all doomed to fall under English rule, Captain. It is only a matter of time.”
“Not Ireland,” Quinn said, pouring herself another goblet of whiskey.
“I wish that were true,” Lady Killigrew said, “but your country is so clan divided, it is dying from the inside out. It is only a matter of time until Elizabeth takes full advantage of that.”
“Not to mention the rift between Catholics and pagans,” Maggie added softly. “There is little stability in Ireland at the moment.”
“Add to that no real navy to speak of, and your beautiful isle is ripe for the picking.”
Quinn slammed back half of the goblet, feeling the burn as the fiery liquid slid down her throat. From the moment her foot hit land, all she could think about was Evan. Should she try to find her? Was she safe? Where did she go?
For his part, Lake did not appear the least bit anxious about finding her. When Quinn asked what his plans were, he merely stated he would accompany Tavish to Fotheringhay Castle, where Mary of Scotland resided now under English guards. After that, he did not have any plans.
“What about Evan? Surely you––”
“If Evan wished to be found, he would be. I’ll not waste my time searchin’ fer a ghost.”
A ghost?
Was that all Evan was now? A ghost? A memory? An intangible part of their past?
Quinn lifted the goblet to her lips and took several large gulps, draining it dry. As she reached for the decanter, Maggie lightly touched Quinn’s wrist. “You might want to take a breath, Callaghan. That’s a lot of drink inside you.”
Quinn opened her mouth to reply before slowly pulling her hand back.
“I best make sure everything goes well with the meal,” Lady Killigrew said as she rose. “It has been a long time since I’ve entertained, and I do believe I’ve forgotten my manners. I’ll send the servant over with more food for you both.”
When Lady Killigrew was gone, Maggie leaned closer to Quinn. “You’re drunk, Callaghan.”
Quinn shook her head. “Nah. I’m getting there, though.”
Taking one of Quinn’s hands in hers, Maggie gave it a quick squeeze. “Lake might sound insensitive to you, my dear, but he knows Evan better than ennaone, including you. What . . . whatever is going on within her is a pain only she can deal with. You cannot save her from the demons she must be wrestling with, no matter how much you wish to.”
Quinn tried to focus on the table of partying men, but she was already succumbing to the drink. Blurry around the edges, her vision seemed to worsen with every passing moment.
“Callaghan?” Tavish asked as he moved in behind Maggie.
“He’s had a bit more whiskey than he’s used to drinking.” Maggie explained, rising. “I’ll see if the lady needs any help. I’ll leave you to it.”
Tavish nodded as he accepted a kiss on the cheek from his wife. “Don’t be long. Callaghan is more than a handful when pissed.”
After Maggie was gone, Tavish sat across a small table from Quinn, his elbows on his knees. “Well, lad, it’s lookin’ like yer gonna be on yer hands and knees before long. Come on. Let’s go get ya some fresh air.” Tavish rose and helped Quinn to her feet.
Wobbly was an understatement. Quinn felt like she was on someone else’s legs. “Tavish? I can’t really feel my legs.”
“That’s not the only thing ya won’t be feelin’, lad.�
�� Helping Quinn out the door, Tavish kicked it closed with the heel of his boot.
“There’s two moons,” Quinn said. The whiskey had saturated her now, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she succumbed completely. “Tavish?”
Tavish sat her down on a bench overlooking the dock. The waves gently lapped at the pier while a small bell dinged in the distance. “Aye, lad?”
“My heart’s broken. Again.”
Tavish did not sit on the bench next to Quinn but stood with his back to her, hands clasped behind him, “So it would seem.”
“I want to help her—to go find her—to do something, ennathing to bring her some solace, but I can’t, can I?”
Tavish stood like a statue as he gazed out at the water.
“I’m cursed.”
Tavish did not reply so Quinn rose, vomited, then quickly sat back down. “Fuck.”
Turning at the sound of her vomiting, Tavish pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand first, Quinn then used the handkerchief. Her stomach churned over and over. “Gulping whiskey . . . is a very bad . . . plan.”
Tavish chuckled as he knelt in front of her. “Aye, but then a broken heart seldom sips.”
Quinn laughed out loud. “Good one, Tavish. Can I quote you on that?”
“Ya can if ya can remember, lad.” Tavish set his hand on top of Quinn’s knee. “Truth to tell, lad. Ya got a fistful of reasons to want to get drunk.”
“I didn’t know you were so . . . poetic, you goddamn Scot.”
Tavish grinned. “Fer bein’ together our seven years, lad, there’s a wee bit ya doona ken about ol’ Tavish.”
“I ken enough, aye?”
He chuckled “Aye.”
Quinn stared up at the two moons. They reminded her of her and Evan: One could see they were moons, but no one could really touch them. “Tavish?”
“Aye, lad. Still here.”
Quinn moved her eyes from the moon to Tavish’s dark silhouette. There were two of him as well. “Did you ever just give up on love?”
Moments drifted by before Tavish finally answered. “I loved a young lass once. Loved her hard and with all me might.”
Quinn leaned forward thinking she might just vomit once more.
“We spoke of marriage and family. We both wanted barriers, a quiet life, and time just to lay under the stars together.”
It seems to Quinn that even the waves stopped to listen, and the dinging bell quieted its chime to hear his tale.
“She was a bonnie lass to be sure. Everra man in the village would ha’ wanted to be her beau.”
“But she chose you.”
Even through the dim, Quinn could see him grin of resemblance. “Aye. She chose me. Poor choice it was. She could ha’ had ennaone she wanted, but she loved me, aye she did.”
The vomit did not come, though Quinn knew she was getting drunker with every passing second.
“Problem was, one of them who wanted her was a son of an English lord passin’ through our village.”
Quinn’s gut tightened.
Tavish rose and turned his face toward the wind. “The fuckin’ lord made her father an offer he didna refuse.”
“Oh, Tavish,” Quinn felt the sting of tears in her eyes.
“The night before she left, she swore to me she would always be mine and that she would never love another. She cried while I held her. I kenned in my heart I would never love another as much as I loved her.” He inhaled deeply. “Next mornin’ they packed her things into the carriage as I stood silently by. My father swore he would whip me right there in front of her if I so much as said a word.”
“That is so sad.”
“Aye. So I stood there like a mute, just lookin’ at her, tryin’ to memorize every curve of her face.” He paused and exhaled. “That’s when the young arsehole walked up to me, leaned in and whispered, ya come after her, I’ll slit her sweet throat.”
Quinn’s hand went to her throat.
“So I memorized his face as well.”
“You didn’t say anything to him?”
“I would have, but me da cleared his throat to remind me of the whippin’ he’d give me in fronta me girl, so I stood in dishonorable silence until they were outta sight.” He turned back to Quinn. “That was when I walked over to me da and whispered to him, if he ever even thought about raisin’ more than his voice to me, I’d feed his fat carcass to the hogs.”
Quinn’s mouth dropped open. “No! Really?”
“Aye. I left the village the next mornin’ with nothin’ but the clothes on my back and me da’s sword in my hand.”
“Oh no. You didn’t.”
“Go after her? Aye. I was a coward once, lad, but I would not be a second time. Only problem was the lord’s sentry all along the road. The first one I saw beat the shite outta me. I remember poundin’ him once in the face, and he laughed in mine. ‘Is that all ya got, boy?’ he mocked before knockin’ me out. When I came to, I was in the back of a wagon trussed up like a pig, headin’ in the opposite direction. Took me three days to free myself from the highwaymen they’d paid to take me to the border. By the time I was free, they were dead, and me girl was long gone.”
Quinn’s tears fell, not from the words, but from the incredibly sad tone in Tavish’s voice.
“I had no girl, no family, no pride, no work. Nothin’ but me hands, so I took work on a farm. In a year’s time, I went from skinny lad to full-grown man.”
“Is that where you learned how to knock a man out with one punch?”
He nodded. “Aye. Two of the hands there would often bet who could knock a cow out with one punch.”
Quinn started chuckling. “A cow?”
“Aye. It’s harder than ya think, lad. Much harder. Took me dozens of tries, but when I finally did, it was time fer me to go, so I hired myself out as a guard to an English family.”
“Not Fiona?”
“Oh no, that came much later. Much much later. I had a lot of fights and anger to disperse before Lord Moynihan found me.”
“And you never loved another? I mean . . . until Maggie?”
He shook his head, or at least, that’s what Quinn thought he did. She couldn’t tell. The whiskey was her master now, and she bent to the side to vomit once more.
“Come on, lad. There’s a bed downstairs. Yer gonna need to sleep this off.” Tavish helped her to her feet, where she stood unsteadily.
“But you love Maggie, right?”
“Aye, lad, I do. I love her the way a man loves a woman. I loved Myra like a boy loves a girl.”
She nodded as she put her arm across his shoulders and let him practically carry her to the bed.
When she laid down on her back, she reached from him as he turned to leave. “Tavish?”
“Aye?”
“Did your heart ever heal?”
A long moment went by before he shook his head. “A heart never heals, lad, it just keeps beatin’, wounds and all.”
Quinn woke up, startled to hear nothing but the gulls yakking. As soon as she sat up, she regretted it—her head pounded sending sharp pains through her temples and eyes.
She allowed herself to fall back in the bed, eyes closed. “My . . . god.”
Opening one eye, she could barely focus so she closed it again.
Why was it so quiet?
What time was it?
Quinn felt strangely out of time.
Rolling on her side, she tried remembering the events of the night before.
Tavish had told her a story about . . . “Tavish?” Quinn yelled.
Nothing.
Slowly hanging her feet off the bed, Quinn took several breaths before opening her eyes. “Come on, Callaghan. You can do this.” Standing, Quinn thought her legs might fail her.
Before she could take a step, the door swung open. It was Maggie. “Had a rough time of it, eh, Callaghan?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever dra
nk so much whiskey in the whole of my life.”
“Aye. Gulping Scottish whiskey is never a good idea.”
“Why is it so quiet? Where is everybody?”
Maggie inhaled through her nose.
“What? Don’t tell me—”
“Aye. Tavish and Lake left at dawn with the glaigh.”
“What? Goddamn them. They knew––”
“That you’d want to join them. It’s not your fight anymore, my dear. They all know that. This is for the Scots to deal with.”
Quinn walked out into the main hall and squinted at the bright sunlight. “Not. My. Fight?”
“No. You’ve done enough for the queen of Scotland. Angering Elizabeth when you are starting anew is bad idea—a bad idea indeed. My husband knew that, so he and Lake took the horses and headed for Fotheringhay, though I sincerely doubt they will reach her in time.” Maggie helped Quinn walk over to one of the long banquet tables. It had been recently cleaned of the mess they made of it last night.
“He should have said something to me.”
“Before or after you got drunk?” Maggie sat down next to her. “My dear, I daresay that man loves you as much as he loves me. He would never knowingly place you in danger. Besides, since when did he ever do as he was told?”
Quinn closed her eyes. “Hardly ever.”
“Aye. This time is no exception.”
“Did they . . . did they at least have a plan?”
“Oh, aye. They’d be collecting Scots and mercenaries all along the way. We can only hope they reach her in time.”
Quinn locked eyes with Maggie. “You’re scared for him.”
Maggie smiled softly. “Of course I am. He is running headfirst into a den of lions, but that’s what makes him Tavish McGee.”
Quinn felt her belly rumble. “Just Scots went?”
“Oh, aye. Tavish made it clear. Fitz has the men cleaning the Emerald in case you want to set sail as soon as they return. That Fitz is a good man.”
Quinn rubbed her temples. “Did any of them say anything about Innis leaving?”
Maggie shook her head. “Not that I overhead. The men know the story, my dear, and they support you every bit as much as they did Grace.”
“Did they . . . last night . . . ”
Cutthroat Crusades (The Plundered Chronicles Book 4) Page 16