For her part, Quinn rather enjoyed the warm hands roaming across her chest, fingertips dancing lightly across her skin. Several times, she got goosebumps all over, especially when those warm fingertips caressed her nipples.
“Your body is a thing of wonder,” Beren murmured. “So soft yet so strong.”
“That describes all women,” Quinn whispered, bending her head to inhale the scent of Beren’s hair. If she was going to do this, she was going to go all the way with it.
If she was going to be someone’s concubine, at least it was with a beautiful woman.
Gently sliding the shirt off Quinn’s shoulders, Beren ran her hands down her shoulders. “So strong. So sensuous. It is unfortunate most men do not understand how sexy strong women are, and you are very, very sensual.” Beren stepped closer and started kissing Quinn’s shoulders. “So, very sensual.”
Quinn smelled Beren’s hair once more. It smelled of roses and some spice Quinn could not name.
Standing back, Beren studied Quinn’s body. “Though I would love to remove the rest of your clothes, your water is cooling and I want you to be warm and comfortable.”
Quinn dropped her pants, tugged her boots off, and stepped out of her leggings.
Beren slowly blew a breath out. “Oh, my. You are… exquisite.”
Quinn slowly stepped into the warm water. It felt so good.
Sliding down into the tub, Quinn let out a contented sigh. “Oh, goodness. I can’t remember the last time I had a hot bath.”
Kneeling next to the tub, Beren pulled a cloth out from under her layers and dipped it into the water. “Is it warm enough?”
“It feels… wonderful.”
Picking up Quinn’s arm, Beren began washing her from fingertips to collarbone, slowly, carefully, gently, taking great care and attention.
Quinn couldn’t keep herself from moaning.
Beren ran the cloth across Quinn’s upper chest. As she did, Quinn turned her face to Beren and kissed her deeply.
As she did, Beren cupped Quinn’s breast and gently massaged it. “Softest thing I have ever touched. Ever.”
“Sure you don’t want to get in with me?”
Beren considered it a moment then shook her head. “It is the washing that is the honor. Now please, close your eyes and put your head back. Let me bathe you in the peaceful silence that is the sea.”
Quinn felt her muscles relax and she slid further into the tub, the warm water reaching her chin.
Beren continued to rub the cloth over her body in a way that Quinn could only call tender.
As the water cooled, Quinn opened her eyes. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but the room was now darker and filled with flickering candles.
“Oh. I am so sorry,” Quinn said, sitting up. The water was markedly cooler now, but her body was clean and she smelled like citrus.
Beren stood with a towel in hand. “No need to apologize. I imagine you’ve not slept well in that dungeon.”
Quinn rose and stepped out of the tub and into the open towel Beren wrapped around her. “You’re correct… it was so…”
“Soothing? There is much to be said about bathing someone or being bathed. It is a magical moment, they say, when two people are so intimate… so bonded.” Beren finished drying Quinn and then nodded toward the clothes on the bed. “Those are for you. I shall return once you are dressed.”
Dressed? Quinn thought this was to be a sexual encounter, but refrained from saying anything. If she were to be honest, sleep was all she craved at this moment.
When Beren was gone, Quinn put the soft clothes on and marveled at how wonderful they felt against her clean skin.
Standing in front of the small window, perhaps, on second glance, too small to crawl out of, Quinn thought about her ship and crew. They must have decided for the first time in their lives to actually listen to her orders and remain in the Bari port.
For that, Quinn was grateful. There was nothing to be gained by losing any of her men to the violence and depravity of Dragut. If sleeping with this young woman would keep her and them safe, she would have no problems with it.
What would they say if they saw her now? Imprisoned in some makeshift floating harem.
Quinn laughed out loud.
Suddenly, her eyelids became heavy, and her legs seemed incapable of holding her up, so she climbed into the bed and sat against the wall. “What an interesting culture,” she said to herself as her eyes took in the whole room. They seemed so much freer, sexually, than the Irish. It was refreshing, actually.
Closing her eyes, she thought back to the last six months at Castle Blackrock. She had enjoyed the first two weeks, of course. Visiting with Shea and Kennedy was always fun. Of course, spending time with Bronwen and Evan was soul-filling and peaceful. All of the people she took time to visit made those weeks enjoyable, but then Quinn was longing for the sea. Certainly, longing wasn’t a strong enough word. It was a heartfelt yearning that clutched her heart and tugged her out to sea.
She’d been restless for a long, long time. Kaylish magnanimously agreed to teach Gallagher and care for her in Gallagher’s home, but Quinn had missed being on the deck of a ship. She missed the adventure, the excitement, the salt air.
She missed everything.
Suddenly, the door creaked open and in walked Beren carrying a plate of food. The aroma of a cooked meat entered before she did.
Quinn threw the covers back to get out.
“No, no. Stay. Please.”
Hesitating, Quinn eased back in the bed. Her stomach growled.
Sitting on the side of the bed, Beren set the full plate on Quinn’s lap. The food smelled delicious, even though she had no idea what it all was.
Beren looked at her. “You fear I’ve poisoned it?”
The thought hadn’t crossed Quinn’s mind. “Not at all.”
“I will taste it all for you so you know for certain.” Beren did just that before handing a fork to Quinn. “While I understand your suspicion, you need not fear anything from me, Captain. I want you. Alive. Your softness does me no good dead. Please, eat.”
“You are not joining me?”
“Not now, no. I must eat with my family.”
Quinn bit into the meat. It was tender, spiced well, and possibly deer or something like that.
“Good?”
“Better than that. Delicious. Thank you very much.” Quinn ate while Beren watched her.
“I shall return this evening. Eat. Rest. Smoke if you like.”
“And tomorrow?”
Beren shrugged. “Tomorrow is tomorrow. We shall see it when it gets here. Enjoy. You shall sleep better now.” Beren quietly left the room.
Quinn continued eating. It was the best meal she’d had in a long time.
After she ate every single thing on her place, she set it on the floor and leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes and feeling the fullness of her belly.
When Quinn opened her eyes, she realized she wasn’t alone.
Sometime in the night Beren had returned, crawled quietly into bed with her, and draped her arm across Quinn’s full belly.
Her body was warm and, when Quinn scooted down into the cushy comfort of the bed, Beren signed and whispered, “Go back to sleep.”
And that was precisely what Quinn did.
The next two days were filled with conversation, food, wine, and a lot of kissing. While Beren touched Quinn’s body, she so far had refused Quinn’s touch.
It wasn’t unpleasant, to be sure, but she wasn’t free, either. To be some sort of adventure for Dragut’s daughter was not her idea of her purpose in this life. No, she needed to get out of here, but even if she did, would Sayyida be in danger if she returned and there was no Quinn?
And could she afford to care at this point?
Beren was clearly falling in love with her and working her way up to having carnal relations with Quinn. If she could use those emotions, maybe she could find a way out of this.
She almost felt bad about it. Beren was a beautiful woman, an intelligent speaker, an interesting person, and a sweet kisser. Quinn had no doubt she would make a fine lover.
If she let it go that far.
“What’s she like?”
Quinn looked up from her thoughts. “Who, Sayyida?”
“No, silly. Grace O’Malley. You say her name in your sleep yet you tell me your were never lovers. I do not understand.”
Funny thing was, neither did Quinn.
Maybe her allegiance to Grace was due to Grace having given her the opportunity to find Shea when Dragut had kidnapped her from the port. Maybe it was the fact that Grace had accepted her secret of being a woman and never, not once, pressured Quinn to tell the truth. Maybe it was just Irish clan loyalty. Grace O’Malley was the Queen of Connacht and Quinn would lay her life down for her.
“Grace…is a special human being. She is fiercely loyal, independent, and strong, wise and courageous. There is no greater Captain, no fairer leader, no more loyal queen.”
“Such high praise. Surely no one is that good?”
Quinn grinned. “Oh no. She is also impetuous, stubborn, fiery, mean, headstrong, over-confident, and proud.”
Beren grinned. “Yet you love her like no other.”
“Yes, I do.”
Beren drew on the hookah. “Interesting. What must a woman do to own your heart like that, Captain?”
“Oh, Beren, my heart belongs to the sea.”
Blowing out smoke, Beren scooted closer. “Spoken like a true pirate, but I do not believe you. Somewhere, some woman possesses the key to your heart. I can only hope that I am able to unlock it one day.”
Quinn leaned forward. “But why? Your culture, your people would frown upon such a union.”
“Indeed. I would not be allowed to return to Istanbul if I refused to marry. But…if you were worth it…”
“I’m not.” The words shot out of Quinn’s mouth. “I always believed that love was all that mattered… that if another woman loved me, I would be whole, but that’s not true. Wanting it to be so does not make it so.”
Beren was taken aback. “But… I do not understand. Do you not dress like a man in order to attract women?”
Quinn let out a laugh. “Not at all. I dress like my men so they know I am a part of them and not apart from them. Of course, once I realized how comfortable men’s clothing is, I never went back to those horrible dresses.”
“Ah yes, well European women insist on cramming their bodies in those unbearable corsets. It’s hideous what they do to be considered beautiful. The female body is not meant to be bound up in such a constricting manner.”
Quinn smiled softly. She really liked Beren. She was quite bright and very articulate. It was a shame Quinn would have to hurt her when she found a way off this ship.
And she would have to find one soon, because Beren was becoming more comfortable with the idea of sexual relations. Quinn was going to have to work quickly or she would find herself with her head between Beren’s legs.
And she wasn’t sure that was such a great idea.
On day four, as she was putting her now clean clothes back on, Fatma stuck her head into the room. “My husband would like a word.”
Like she had a choice. “All right.”
“Not here. He is on a ship which has come just for you.”
Quinn finished buttoning her shirt and nodded. “Right now?”
“If you please.”
Fifteen minutes later, Quinn stood between two guards and in front of Dragut Reis.
“Captain Callaghan,” Dragut said, stepping forward.
Quinn was not surprised by the stark contrast between their ship and the one she left. This was a war ship. “Pasha.”
Dragut’s lips twitched in a near smile. “My daughter has expressed an interest in returning you to Istanbul with her.”
Quinn swallowed hard but said nothing. This was not part of the plan. It was not what he’d told Sayyida would happen.
“She has always been my most stubborn, most outspoken child. She has asked me, pleaded actually, to keep you on the family ship and to return home. Do you know why this is?”
Quinn inhaled deeply. “I do not.”
Dragut smiled. “I believe you do. My daughter has always sought a mate equal to her intellectual fortitude. How a pirate has managed that, I do not know, but you have, and I, though a very strong leader, cannot hardly say no to my daughter.”
“So I am to go to Istanbul.”
Dragut nodded. “Her happiness is important to me. Make her happy and you will live in comfort and with rich surroundings. You will want for nothing.”
“Except my freedom. Dragut, like you, I am a creature of the sea. I will wither and die if I cannot be on it.”
“Captain, you are a female. Eventually, won’t you wish to live a more peaceful, safer life?”
“Will you?”
Dragut’s eyes narrowed. “We are not speaking about me. This is about my daughter’s happiness, and apparently, you make her happy. You will be returning tomorrow.”
Before Sayyida returned.
She was fucked if she did not get off this ship before tomorrow.
“I understand.” Quinn bowed her head in pretend deference to the Admiral. “I thank you for your time.”
When the guards escorted Quinn back to the family boat, her gaze went all over the deck, appraising her surroundings, looking for potential escape routes.
Even if she did manage to escape, the water was the only place to go… and then what? Swim miles to shore? Perhaps her best chance of escape would be once she reached Turkey.
Perhaps…
When the door opened to her den/cell, Fatma sat alone in front of the hookah. “Come. Sit. Join me.”
Quinn sat cross-legged on a pillow across from Fatma.
Fatma was not a handsome woman, nor was she ugly. She had features that were probably very beautiful and soft when she was younger – like her daughter’s.
“My daughter fancies you.”
Quinn shrugged. “So I’ve heard.”
“I know my husband spoke to you. What you may not have realized is that he fully expects you to do all that our daughter wishes.”
“All.”
Fatma took a long draw from the pipe, held the smoke in her lungs and then slowly blew it out. “I cannot recall a time when he told her no. Ever.” Fatma patted the pillow next to her. Quinn moved to it. “Captain, I cannot stress enough the importance of… giving in to my daughter.”
“Giving. In.”
“Yes. She has…”
“Peculiar tastes.”
Fatma’s face fell. “Yes. It is easier to find her suitable… mates than to risk someone thinking they could undermine her support of her family.”
So this wasn’t her first time with a woman, Quinn thought. Then why was she acting like it? “So there were… others.”
“Oh yes, but you… you seem to be more important than simple dalliance.”
“How can you tell?”
Fatma help up the hookah pipe. “She has not required you smoke from the hookah.”
Quinn shook her head.
“Has she even requested it?”
“Not once.”
“That is why. She wishes you to come to her on your own power. She is lovesick and you are the cause of it.”
“I am a prisoner, Fatma. Come to her of my own free will? I have no free will here. Tell me what you wish me to do.”
Fatma held out the hookah mouthpiece to Quinn. “Smoke this. It will rid you of your demons and allow you to come together with my daughter free of those who haunt you.”
“Haunt me?”
“Captain Callaghan, my daughter is beautiful, and yet, you seem uninterested. Clearly there must be others who reside within your heart.”
Quinn chuffed. “Honestly? My heart is overcrowded with women.”
Fatma pushed the pipe toward her.
“Is that… is
that what she is smoking?”
“No. You will smoke that together only when you have freed your spirit of residue from the past.”
“Residue.” Quinn knew little about the Islamic religion, but she was pretty certain this had no place in it.
“Each of us comes with the shadow of past loves lingering in the corner. These shadows often prevent us from loving to the fullest.”
“So why didn’t she have me smoke it already?” Quinn took the mouthpiece.
“She does not wish to see or hear about those who have come before her. This is how I know she is developing feelings for you.”
“So you want me to purge the other loves of my life before she returns.”
Fatma nodded. “She will not return until I go get her. By then, you should be near completion.”
“And then?”
“Oh you needn’t worry that she’ll have you smoke again tonight. No, no, no. Tomorrow or the next day, depending on how you feel. Not everyone can quickly overcome the effects. For now, just inhale, hold it in your longs, then blow it out. Twice should suffice.”
Quinn placed the mouthpiece in between her lips. She hated being out of control. It was the singular reason why she seldom drank with her men.
But this.
This was something completely foreign to her.
“You have my word you are safe, Captain.”
Inhaling deeply, Quinn coughed slightly trying to hold the smoke in. She held it as long as she could, then blew the rest out.
“One more, only you need not take so much. Too much and you will get ill.”
Nodding, Quinn took another lungful and then blew it out.
It was less than one minute before she watched the world around her swirl like a whirlpool, in and out of focus.
“Go lay on the bed so you do not hurt yourself,” a disembodied voice whispered.
Hands helped her sit up and get to the bed, where Quinn collapsed and stared up at the ceiling.
Ceiling?
No.
It wasn’t the ceiling.
It was Fiona. Wearing a shimmering white dress made of gauzy material that floated all around her.
“Fio…na?”
She looked beautiful in a flowing white dress with flowers in her hair. Her eyes seemed to sparkle and her hair flowed all around her as if she was in water.
X Marks The Spot (The Plundered Chronicles Book 6) Page 8
