by Mia Pride
His words sank deep into her bones like a cold chill. So, was it true that he killed Thomas’s uncle in cold blood? “How did he steal you away, Katherine? Did he harm you?” her father whispered as he ran a hand through her hair from behind her.
She chewed her bottom lip, hesitating to answer, but deep down she knew it was time to come clean, to tell her father all she had been up to these past several moons. With a sigh, she explained everything. She shared how she had been spying on the pirates, following their every move, and tracking their cargo. When that part was done, she would inform her papa of its whereabouts. If he was close enough to receive the message in time and send a man, they would gather the goods. If not, the enemy… or so she had believed, received the goods. Was it true that Grace had been leaving it for local clans to use? If so, Katherine had made a grave error, and now all those goods had sunk with Thomas’s ship and his poor crew. It was all her fault. None of this would have happened if not for her foolishness.
Behind her, her father tensed as she continued to fill him in but he never made a sound. His silence was unnerving, and she wished for him to speak, but she had nothing left to say and he was unwilling to reply. Within several hours of their ride back toward their home in Connaught, the horse became weary and dusk began to fall. Knowing the land well, her father found a small village with a remote inn they could stay in for the night. She watched as he tossed a gold coin to the innkeeper. The man’s blue eyes widened at the amount of gold thrown to him as if it was nothing. Katherine could not help but agree. It was a shame to have so much money while those around her starved. She was more determined than ever, after having seen how people lived in these small towns firsthand, to use the small amount of treasure she had gathered over the years to really help the Irish… and she knew exactly whom she could trust now. If only that person was not a Pirate Queen who would likely slice her to bits before she could ever explain herself!
Ordering a room for them both and the horse fed and watered, her father roughly grabbed her by the arm and dragged her up a set of rickety wooden stairs that led to a second-floor hallway with only three small rooms. They were likely the only patrons in the inn, but they shared one room on the right. The moment the door closed behind her, she felt her father’s firm grip as he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her until her teeth clattered. “Are you mad? You have been spying on pirates? Following them? Sending me private missives? You were captured by that whoreson Thomas O’Malley—”
“His name is Esmonde,” she corrected, trying to force the point that he was a knight of honor, not a pirate of plunder, but her father must not have appreciated her correction. Without warning, he growled and cracked her across the cheek with the back of his hand. Katherine’s head spun with the impact and she fell to the floor, her back knocking into a table and sending the porcelain washbasin crashing with her. With a cry of pain, she covered her face to protect herself from another blow. Her father had never hit her before.
“Did he touch you? Did he? If he did, you are soiled, tainted! News of this will get back to the queen! He abandoned Captain William to the fate of the pirates, reuniting with his grandmother! Then he stole my cargo from that ship, hid it away… where he found you hiding in a blasted cave! And he stole you away! The man is a pirate and he will hang for this!”
Standing up on shaky legs, Katherine swallowed hard. “He is likely dead, along with the rest of the crew, after what you did.” Her voice cracked and she fought the quiver of her lip. So many lives lost. She would never kiss Thomas again. He was the pirate-knight of her dreams: the man who stole from the enemy to feed his people. He had honor, yet he fought for his beliefs despite the consequences. And she would never see him again. He had said awful things to her before he gave her back to her papa. He had meant them, but she would never get the chance to make things right with him.
“He deserves to be dead!” her father spat! “As did his Uncle Owen, fool that he was! As if I would ever make peace with an O’Malley, pirate or not!”
“So it’s true? You murdered his uncle.” Her face blanched, yet her cheek still throbbed from the pain of his blow. “Is it also true that you steal the cargo meant to aid the Irish… the people you swore to govern, not misuse… and keep the gold for yourself?”
He struck her again, eyes ablaze with a fury she never knew he owned. “You ungrateful bitch! I keep you safe with that gold! You have a fine home, gowns of silk, plenty of food… yet now you have an issue with how I supply them?”
Through her pain, she propped her body against the wall, refusing to fall at his feet.
“I never asked for any of those things!” she balled her fists into her worn woolen dress. “Look at me! I only wear those things when you are home to please you! I would sell it all to feed the mouths of the hungry Irish!”
“And I would sell you to the devil before I allowed you to mix with those filthy peasants! You are a noble lady! It is your place in the world to be above them, to command them!”
She shook her head. “You are wrong.” Then, she stopped and looked him in the eyes. “Tell me about your wife and my sister in England. Is this true, as well? It seems the O’Malleys have shared more truths with me in the past two days than you have in my entire life. How can you have another family in another country that you never told me of, Papa? How?” she pleaded for answers. Could he not open up to her now?
Slowly, calmly, he walked over to the old wooden stool in the corner and she turned to face him, expecting him to sit. Instead, her heart beat wildly and she let out a cry of distress when he cracked the stool against the wall, sending shards of wood into the air, and stalked slowly toward her. Face distorted in rage, she thought for certain her dear papa was possessed by a demon as he slapped the stool’s thin, round leg against his palm over and over as he approached her.
“What has happened to my darling daughter? It is as if you have been entranced by those dirty pirates.”
“Nay… I have not, Papa,” she shook her head and backed away toward the bed.
“You have over-stepped your bounds, speaking to me as you have. Your tongue grows bold. I was planning to tell you about your sister Emily in due time. She is a few years younger than you. I thought she was my English rose, but if what Thomas says is true, she deserves a thrashing as well. No daughter of mine shall mix with pirates.”
Her legs hit the edge of the bed. “I am sorry, Papa,” she whispered, putting her hands up in a plea. Her father was a monster. She knew that now. How had she not seen it before?
“I am sorry, as well, Katherine. I love you more than my own life, but it is my place to teach you yours.” The solid wooden leg in his hand swung out fast, smacking against her thigh. She cried out at the pain and fell back onto the bed. He made contact with her left arm as she rolled and pain burst through her body, explosions of anguish behind her eyes. One more forceful blow to the belly made her gasp and pull into herself as it glanced off her lower ribs. Tears leaked down her cheek and over her nose as she buried her face into the sour-smelling sheets on the bed. Sharp pains flooded her abdomen and she thought she might be dying.
“That last one was necessary, in case you carried the bastard’s child.”
She gasped at his awful words, spoken in a calm voice. He would beat her simply for having been in the man’s presence?
“Now get some rest, my sweet. I know you think I have been harsh, but it was way past due. You have grown wild and over-bold, much like the scum of this land. When we arrive back home in two days’ time, you will pack your things. You are going to England to stay with Emily and your stepmother, Caroline.”
Silent tears ran down her face while throbbing pain wracked every part of her body. How would she endure the pain of the journey on the morrow? Her father removed his jerkin slowly, blew out the candle, and climbed into the bed, as if he had not just beaten her with a rod of wood, before rolling over and snoring soundly.
“I am so sorry, Thomas,” she whispered into the dark
room, in case his spirit lingered nearby and he could hear her sorrow. How she hoped to join him in the Otherworld, where the pain could all be forgotten.
* * *
It had only taken Thomas three days on the ship to rest his arm and come up with his plan for revenge, but it had felt like an eternity as he sat and stewed on all that had been lost at the hands of Bingham. His arm had been stitched up rather cleanly by the ship’s more than capable surgeon, which quite shocked him. The pirate crew’s surgeon was better than the one at court, but he should not have been so surprised. His grandmother was probably almost as rich as the queen herself, and could afford the best ships and crew, even though she chose to give much of her wealth to her people… until Katherine helped Richard steal from them. Now it all lay on the bottom of the sea along with his crew. Every night since, he had said several prayers for their souls.
He was not an overly pious man, having grown up torn between the Catholic and Protestant struggle. He decided long ago that it was safer to keep his opinions about deities to himself, especially since the goddess Danu still haunted his dreams, showing him glimpses of her treasure that had sat buried for over fifteen hundred years. It was a treasure so rare and valuable, he was certain it could feed the people of Ireland for years. Considering the frequency of his dreams, he was also certain Danu was calling to him and offering her beloved ancient treasure to him, if only to save the people.
The man Thomas had saved from drowning three day’s past happened to be a slave from Spain named Juan, captured some years before by Drake and forced to work on the ships, living with only enough food to survive. At one point, he had belonged to the Spanish Navy and had even been his Captain’s quartermaster. Never had Thomas met a man more thankful in all his life. Thomas tried to send Juan on his way, to allow him to go wherever he pleased, even giving the man a small bag of gold to buy his way on a ship, but the man refused to leave Thomas’s side, claiming he owed him a debt and would serve him for life.
After much arguing that he had not saved the man only to force him into bondage once more, Thomas decided he could more than use the man’s aid right now, as he once again had no ship or crew, and now had an injured arm. However, it was agreed upon that Juan was free to go as he chose and would be given his share of any booty they found in their travels… assuming Thomas found a way to earn another ship. That had given him the inspiration he needed to finally sit down with his grandmother and make her a deal.
Sitting in her chair, the hearth fire blazing behind her as she sipped on a mug of hot whiskey, Grace listened with interest, though a scowl seemed to be firmly stuck to her face. Even in her later years, she was a beautiful woman, but the stress of the war, imprisonment by the English, and the constant threat of Bingham had aged her more in a few days than he thought she had in the twenty-three years he had been gone.
Juan sat stiffly beside Thomas, a blank look on his face as he listened intently to all that transpired. The fire popped behind Grace and she shifted in her seat, propping her left ankle atop her right knee and shaking her booted foot. Though she had been silent for a moment after he described his plan, he knew she was considering the details carefully.
“Ye never did stop thinkin’ about that treasure,” she finally spoke with a chuckle. “Aye, our ancestors hid it well… too well, after one of the major battles of their time, trying to keep the Treasure of Danu safe from the enemy. Before they obtained it, with the help of the fay, they say, it had been lost for a thousand years before. It seems to hide itself, rather than the other way around. With as many who have tried to claim it, what makes ye think ye can?” she asked with another slow sip of whiskey.
“I dinnae know. It’s only that I have had very vivid dreams of it since I was a lad. My first dream came even before ye told me of it. Since I arrived back here in Ireland, the dreams come nightly, and with more intensity. I can see it. ’Tis in a cave. I just dinnae know which caves or upon which land. My ancestors traveled between Ireland and Scotland often.”
“There be many caves in Ireland and Scotland, lad. When the son of one of the three Sisters of Danu hid the treasure, it is said to have been sealed and that only the god Lugh can reveal it to the true ancestor of Danu. I ken we are descendants of the legendary Sisters, but with fifteen centuries between us, how can we be certain ye are the one meant to find it?”
“We cannae know until we try. As I offered, ye lend me a ship and crew, and I will seek the treasure. If I find it, all I ask is to keep the ship and crew to continue a life on the sea. I do not think I will be welcomed back to England after all that has transpired. No doubt Captain William is there now, prepared to tell whatever tale he has contrived to make me look like a traitor, and he not a coward. I will give the treasure over to ye, after I take a portion to reward the crew, of course. Ye can use the treasure to help the people. If it is as grand as I believe, it will feed them for years.”
His grandmother sighed and put her whiskey down, tapping her foot on the stone floors. “Done. I can have a ship and crew ready for ye in two days’ time.”
Thomas felt lighter than he had in a long time. This was it. It was the culmination of years of dreaming about this treasure, feeling the call of Lugh and Danu in his sleep. He knew he was meant to find the treasure. Why else would he repeatedly see a row of caverns high up on a mountain when he closed his eyes? He could not be sure where they were, or which cavern the treasure was kept in, but he would not stop until he found it.
“Thank ye.” He stood up quickly and kissed his grandmother’s cheek. “Ye are not such an awful Pirate Queen,” he winked.
Scowling, she waved him off. “’Tis only because ye are my grandson and I trust ye. I did not at first, ye ken. And make nay mistake, I would have fed ye to the fish had I believed ye were the Queen’s man. But nay, I saw it in yer eyes the moment ye arrived back in Ireland, lad. Ye care about this land and its people. I may stalk the waters, terrorizing merchants and enemy nations alike, and I may keep a fair share for me and me crew, but we always give back, ye ken.”
“Aye. I ken.”
“Tell anyone I’ve gone soft in me old age and I will cut off yer bollocks,” she nodded.
He did not doubt she would for even a moment. But he needed those bollocks to exact his revenge on Bingham. Though the thought of seeing Katherine again made his stomach churn with an array of emotions, ranging from lust to disgust, he knew the best way to destroy Bingham was to ruin his daughter. He would steal her away, take her innocence, and give her back to the man, ruined beyond repair. It was the price they would both pay for betraying the O’Malleys. Though he never thought he could stomach the thought of bedding one of Richard’s daughters, after flipping through that erotic book repeatedly for the past three days, the one that had the word “Kamasutra” embossed in fancy gold writing on the inside of the leather-bound cover, the one filled with men and women in provocative positions, he found himself primed and ready to plunder the only treasure that his enemy could never steal back.
If Katherine had found this book intriguing before, she was going to get a few hands-on lessons from him, and he would make certain she enjoyed every moment of it. He grew hard just thinking about it, forgetting the pain throbbing in his arm. It was nothing compared to the pain throbbing in his breeches.
Leaving his grandmother’s house and looking up at the night sky, stars twinkling high above as if winking at him and encouraging his mission, he sighed and slapped Juan on the back. “Ye ready for the next part of the plan?”
The man nodded. “I am ready, Capt’n.”
He liked the sound of being called Captain. With a smirk, he mounted his horse and headed over to New Castle Manor. Tonight, Katherine was his, but just long enough to ruin her.
* * *
Approaching the three-story manor house, its clean white-washed walls shown in a blue haze from the dim glow of the moon. Richard Bingham’s house was not far from their pirate stronghold, and it was a wonder it had remained secure up
to now. Thomas looked up at the vines climbing the otherwise smooth facade. It disgusted Thomas that Richard could slaughter the locals yet live so lavishly.
He had no idea which room Katherine’s was, but he was certain she would be home unless the wild woman had not learned her lesson about skulking around at night. Small trees grew against the side of the house, concealing many of the top windows from his view.
Dismounting from his horse, he nodded to Juan, who nodded back. If there was any activity or sign of life, Juan would give him a signal. Patting the inside of his cloak, Thomas made certain his note was still within. He wanted that bastard to know exactly who had taken his daughter and exactly what he meant to do with her. He bit back a grin. Aye, he was acting without honor, but honor had no place in revenge. If the queen would not take Richard Bingham in hand, Thomas would do so himself. He would steal the lass, keep her as a hostage aboard his ship, and show her the many delights that could be shared, even if it meant feigning love for the lass to get her to willingly spread for him. Then he would seek his treasure and toss her back to her father once he was well and done with her.
Slowly stalking the perimeter of the house, Thomas focused so much on the windows above and how to climb up, that he did not notice the flicker of candlelight coming from one of the larger windows on the bottom floor until just then. Silently gliding over, he was pleased to see the heavy damask curtain was pulled back slightly, affording him a slim, yet helpful view of the inside. It appeared to be the library. Heavy, dark-wood shelves lined the wall across from him, filled from ceiling to floor with leather-bound tomes. Was Richard in there right now, writing missives to his queen about all the foul actions of her knight? Thomas scoffed. Somehow, he could not find it in himself to care. He valued his queen’s opinion of him, but he had done nothing but show his honor and loyalty, yet he knew that one missive from this man could make his queen turn away from him. So be it. He had other plans for his present, and as for his future, he would worry about that later.
