With her fist raised, she prepared to strike when she heard a familiar voice.
“It’s me, Captain. Fitz.”
Lowering her fist, Quinn blinked as her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness. “Fitz? Have you gone mad? What on earth are you doing here?”
“I followed you. I’ve been waiting for—”
“I made my position very clear, Fitz. Is the crew alright? Has something happened?”
Fitz whispered. “All is well.”
Straightening her clothes, Quinn threw open the door. “Do not speak a word. There are eyes and ears everywhere. Come with me while we get you a horse. We can ride out and have this discussion away from here.”
Once Quinn secured another horse, she and Fitz rode toward Shell Haven.
After ten miles, she found a small pond to water the horses and rest in the shade.
“Now, what in the hell are you doing here?” It felt oddly satisfying to be speaking Gaelic once more, even if it was tinged with irritation.
“I ask the same of you, Callaghan. Are ya under the employ of The Bitch Queen now? What’s with all this changin’ of clothes and sneaking around?”
Quinn opened her mouth to bark at him, but thought better of it. “Does Tavish know you are here?”
“I’m sure he does now. I left a message with One-Eye to tell him several hours after I was gone.”
Sighing, Quinn slowly shook her head. “Leaving ship without permission is akin to mutiny, my friend.”
“So it frat’nizin’ with our greatest enemy, Captain, and I need to know…we all deserve to know what yer doin’ here.”
Quinn took her boots off and waded out into the pond. It was cold and mucky but felt good on her sweaty feet. “I see I’ve wounded you, Fitz.”
Fitz bowed his head, but not before she saw the crimson of his cheeks. “Have I done somethin’ to make ya doubt me, Callaghan?”
Quinn sloshed her way over to him. “Aw, Fitz, not even in the slightest.”
“Then why won’t ya tell me what’s goin’ on? Ya know I’d never tell a soul. I’ve kept everra secret ya ever told me. Ya know it, aye?”
And she did.
But that didn’t mean she could or even should share with him everything about the group.
“I do know that. I know you are as loyal as the night that follows day, and I’ve not told you because she asked me not to.”
He looked up now, his face a question mark. “She?”
“Mary of Scotland.” Quinn cupped her hands in the water and splashed some on her face. “Before she died, she bade me to protect Elizabeth.” Quinn held up her hand. “I know how their relationship appeared, Fitz, but we are privy only to what we see on the surface. They were cousins, after all.”
He nodded as if he could understand. “Aye. Family is family. I just would never have thought—”
“Neither did I, but if you think about it, Elizabeth kept Mary under house arrest for nearly twenty years. Twenty years. Why not lock her in the Tower? Why not just execute her and be done with it?”
“Because they’re family.”
Quinn nodded. Family, clans, chieftains were all something every Irishman understood.
Fitz was no different.
“Precisely. They were cousins to the bitter end. Elizabeth did not want Mary executed. Someone tricked her into signing that warrant, but not before Mary asked me to protect her cousin, the Queen of England.” Quinn picked up a flat rock at the pond’s edge and skipped it across the pond six times.
“And ya thought the crew would never understand.”
“Would they?”
Fitz shook his head. “Not at all. Elizabeth is the daughter of a whore and a King who would have destroyed our families and lives. The men will never abide by aiding Elizabeth.” He narrowed his gaze. “So why do you? What is in it for ya? Forces?”
“Fitz, do you think Ireland will be able to remain independent from England?”
“No, Captain. I do not.”
“So if I can acquire the good graces of the Queen prior to our loss of independence, would you say that’s a wise move to make?”
“Is that what yer doing?”
Quinn’s heart sank as she lied to her dear friend. “Yes. It is my hope that by aiding her in determining who in her midst will attempt to murder her we can be in her good graces when Ireland falls.”
“And it will fall, aye, Captain?”
Quinn nodded. “Aye, my friend. It will. So you chose mutiny to… to what end?”
“To find the truth. To see why ya don’t have faith in me enna more.”
Quinn wanted to hug him, but that would not have been acceptable. “Oh, Fitz. I have complete faith in you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but Mary swore me to secrecy.”
“I understand.”
“No, Fitz, you do not. I’m trying to secure our future freedom.”
Fitz ran his hand over his stubble. “What can I do to help?”
Quinn grinned. She knew, at the end of the day, he would remain loyal to her. “This is going to take longer than I thought. I need you to let Tavish know that I am safe. I am well. I just need time. I want the ships to sail home and wait at Castle Blackrock.”
Fitz chucked. “That old Scot will not leave without ya.”
“He’s going to have to. You have to convince him that what I’m doing is for the good of the crew. Can you do that?”
Fitz wiped his face once more. “Aye. Can and will. It will be good for the men to get back home and regroup. We’ve been gone a long time.”
“Exactly. Take them to Galway, leave the ship at Castle Blackrock. Everyone is welcome to stay at the Castle once they’ve had their fill of ale and women.”
“That could take a while.”
Quinn smiled. “Of that, I have no doubt, my friend.” Laying a hand on his shoulder, she locked eyes with him. “Forgive me for keeping all of this from you. Anything that involves Elizabeth always makes me nervous.”
“As it ought, Callaghan. The woman is never to be trusted. Remember that always. Swear to me you’ll not trust her or turn yer back on her.”
“I swear, Fitz.” Quinn motioned for him to get on the horse.
“How will ya get him, Callaghan?” Fitz asked when he was mounted.
“Lady Killigrew can assist with that. If not, perhaps even the Queen herself can find me a ride.”
“Don’t hold yer breath on that one.” Fitz grinned. “One last thing. Abdullah and his crew aboard The Crow remain loyal to us. I think they like bein’ pirates. Shall I extend Castle Blackrock to them as well?”
“No. They can stay in Galway. Let Becca know I’ll pay for their board for two nights. After that, they are on their own until I return.
Fitz grabbed the reins. “Odd fellows those Turks.”
“Odd in what way?”
“If I did not know better, I’d bet Sayyida la Hurra threatened them a vile death if they left ya.”
Quinn smiled. It would not be beyond Sayyida to do so. “I would not take that bet, Fitz. Be safe.”
As Fitz rode off, Quinn watched with pride. He had come a long way since she offered him a place on her crew, she could only hope she would not have to lie to him again.
Elizabeth took to Gaelic like a duck to a pond. Her accent was flawless, her execution remarkable. When they had spent about an hour at it, they took a walk.
“Corrine tells me she has great faith in you. She is not one to suffer fools, so I have to inquire why it is she thinks thusly.”
“Perhaps she is a good judge of character. Or a judge of good character.”
Elizabeth laughed unrestrained, making Quinn wonder if laughter is something she seldom did inside the walls of the palace.
“Either way, you have my confidence, Callaghan, and full and complete reign of the palace. If you need anything, anything at all, let Corrine know and she will gladly see to it your needs are met. From here on out, we will meet daily for my lessons and then you will leave. We cannot
afford to have onlookers see us with our heads together.”
Quinn nodded. “Agreed. Until such time as I narrow a list of possible suspects, I’ll not bother you with the details of my work.”
“Excellent. Callaghan, may I ask why you’ve chosen to join our group?”
“You may. I recently inherited a young girl who means everything to me. I want her to have choices I did not have.”
“But chose nonetheless.”
Quinn nodded. “Aye, but those choices came at a price. I wish her to not have to pay it.”
Elizabeth studied Quinn over a cluster of white roses with red tips. “Not many people can continue to surprise me once I have the chance to know them, but you, Callaghan, continue to do so.”
Quinn barely shrugged. “I became a pirate, initially, out of necessity. I remained one out of desire to be more than a fluffed-up noblewoman.”
Elizabeth grinned. “Interesting…but I was speaking about ‘inheriting a child.’ I don’t believe I have ever heard that phrase.”
“My…friend,” Quinn paused, then corrected the lie. “On her deathbed, my lover asked me to take care of Gallagher, her daughter.”
“Ah, I see. You are a quality person keeping her promise.”
Quinn waited for more. When none came, she said, “So I took her as my own.”
“And suddenly, your world appeared different.”
Cocking her head, Quinn gazed at Elizabeth’s profile as she lightly fingered a peach-colored rose. “That is exactly what happened.”
Elizabeth turned her head slightly. “You need not be embarrassed nor surprised. I am who I am because of an innate ability to read people better than the average person. They say children change how we view the world. Your Gallagher has given you a greater purpose than just the spoils of privateering. It makes perfect sense why you are here now, does it not?”
“It does. So much has changed since she arrived in my life.”
“So, tell me about her.”
“Gallagher?” Quinn beamed. “She is quick-witted and brave. She asks a million questions, never waiting to hear the answers before she launches another one. She is a handful most of the time, seldom believing the rules apply to her.”
“Then she is very much like you.”
Quinn paused a moment and in that beat, realized that the woman she once wished dead saw her clearer than almost anyone she’d ever met. “Aye. Too much so.”
Elizabeth continued her walk. “Children are a luxury beyond my reach, but I know what kind of world I would wish for if I had them. I would want religious peace. I would like to see women have the kind of intellectual discussions they had in ancient Greece with Socrates and Aristotle, while having the warrior spirit of Spartan women. We have so many skills and talents, strengths and wisdom to offer society and yet, unless one wears a crown, no one will pay us heed. Sad, really.”
“Then you would find Irish women a breath of good air,”
Elizabeth stopped. “I already do. You and Grace O’Malley are two of the most fascinating individuals I have ever met. In another life, Grace and I might have been allies.”
This warmed Quinn’s heart and she said as much.
“Her kind of loyalty runs deep. I imagine yours does as well. I count on that, Callaghan, as do the rest of the women in our group, for without that, there is no trust, and without trust, we have nothing.”
“You can trust me your Highness. I will see whomever it is who wishes you harm and hand them over to you.”
“Excellent. Ever since Walsingham passed, my spies are not as reliable as they once were. That is why you are here. A network of spies which has holes and leaks is of no use to anyone. Before, when Mary was still alive, it was much easier to determine who was doing her bidding. But now… now I have literally hundreds of possible Catholics who would like to see me dead.”
“That will not happen, your Majesty. You have my word, I will do everything in my power to root out the killer before he can strike.”
Elizabeth sighed and looked up at the sun. “That is all one can ask. Thank you, Callaghan, for joining us. I sincerely believe you will be one of our greatest assets.”
That night, Quinn blended with the nightly shadows listening to conversations, seeing who may or may not be loyal to the queen, who were rumor-mongers, and who had credible information.
Corrine had been right about the palace having eyes and ears. Everywhere she turned, people spoke in hushed whispers…much of it revolving around religious issues and petty squabbles.
It was the religious issues that made Quinn perk up.
The Catholics were preparing to fight the Huguenots and anyone else standing in their way. Elizabeth was well aware of this, and of the strength of the Catholic subjects under her, so it was entirely possible that her assassin was working with or for the Vatican or other Catholic crown.
For three nights in a row, she crept around the palace listening to conversations she was certain would eventually lead her somewhere. Most of the chatter was typical conversation by servants or other lower end workers – rumors of who was bedding whom, who broke it off, who stole this bauble or that. It was rumor, rumor, more rumor—
Until she heard a name she recognized.
Robert Devereaux.
Robert Horseface Devereaux was one of Elizabeth’s special cabinet members chosen to go to Ireland to quell the many uprisings against the Queen’s plantation policy.
This policy, started by Henry, Elizabeth’s father, implanted English subjects in Ireland. It was a brilliant idea based on Caesar’s notion of mixing with the nationals so when it was time to take over, there were already subjects in place.
The Irish hated it and this had only made them angrier and more resentful toward Elizabeth in particular and the English in general. The policy was one of the few things the Irish agreed to hate. They would fight the English to the death to prevent a takeover by the English crown.
His name being bantered about by the servants put him high on her list of three possible suspects. What she needed now was proof and information – information she was more likely to get via pillow talk than anything else.
That meant finding a target.
By the fifth night, she had her sights set on a kitchen wench who seemed keen on her and was also in possession of many of the rumors spread about on a daily basis.
Quinn could hardly believe the amount of gossiping that transpired after dark. Who was the Queen sleeping with? Which prince was coming to town? Who was cheating on his wife? Nearly all of the talk was sexual in nature.
Including the rumors about “that handsome Irish girl.”
From her position in the shadows of a small pantry, Quinn had listened for two nights while a young cook named Gemma brought up Quinn’s name.
This night was no different.
“Oh Gemma, ya must be daft to think that Irish woman would be fun between the sheets. She’s a woman after all!”
Another female voice chimed in. “Yer parts don’t even match.”
Raucous laughter.
“Ya’ve both never touched the flesh of another woman. It’s softer than a baby’s arse with lips as sweet as sugar, so stick to what ya know.”
More laughter.
“What we know is she is Irish and dresses and sits like a man. She is very peculiar.”
“Peculiar to you is an adventure to me. Sex with another woman is nothin’ like sex with a man – who’s more like an octopus in bed than a rabbit. Me? I prefer a bedmate who actually cares about pleasing me.”
“A rabbit!”
More laughter.
Quinn covered her mouth to keep from laughing herself.
“Have either of you ever et liver?”
“Ugh no!”
“No!”
“Then how is it ya have any opinion at all about it?”
No laughter.
And Quinn had her mark. Peeking around the corner, she put a face to the voice. Not only did she have her mark, she
had an opening that would hasten her information-gathering along.
The next evening at dinner, Quinn sat in the dining room alone at a table watching the young woman named Gemma prepare for dinner.
She was a big boned gal, but light on her feet and quick with her hands. She was a very attentive server with a quick smile.
She reminded Quinn of Becca.
Without thinking, she winced slightly. Becca had loved her in spite of the lies and subterfuge when they first met. And though she loved her back, Becca had never been able to replace Fiona and Quinn’s love for her.
“Thinking so hard will make your head hurt,” Gemma said, rattling Quinn from her thoughts.
“Oh. Yes. Ahem!” Quinn cleared her throat. “Long day.”
“I can’t imagine teaching her Majesty an easy task.”
“Actually, she is a quick study.”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt of that. It would be the correcting her part that would be difficult.”
Quinn was not about to get sucked into her web of palace gossip, but the truth was Elizabeth took no issue with being corrected, and was such a diligent student she never made the same mistake twice.
“The Queen is an outstanding student of languages and will know Gaelic in no time.” Quinn flashed Gemma her sexiest smile.
“Your English is quite good.”
“Thank you—”
“Gemma.”
Quinn smiled inside. “Callaghan.” Reaching out, she waited for Gemma to lay her hand in hers. When she did, Quinn gently squeezed it. “Such soft hands.”
Gemma blushed all the way down to her bosom. “Thank you, but they’re working women hands.”
Quinn released her hand and opened both hands. “They’re softer than mine.”
Gemma rose to the challenge. “I doubt that, but I suppose there are ways to find out.”
The trap was opening. Quinn grinned. “There are, but only one or two which would be mutually enjoyable.”
Gemma leaned closer. “What can I interest you in for dinner?”
Quinn locked eyes with her. “I understand the rabbit is delicious.”
Gemma started to lean back, but Quinn reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Your desire for soft flesh is safe with me,” Quinn whispered. “Very, very safe.”
X Marks The Spot (The Plundered Chronicles Book 6) Page 18
