by Mia Pride
“What if there is more treasure to unearth?” she questioned. The rush of adrenaline was wearing off and her teeth began to chatter loudly. Crossing her arms to stave off the cold was futile at this point, but she did it anyway.
“We can come back another time now that we know where it is, lass. I willnae have ye die of a chill.”
She wanted to argue but knew he was correct. She was frozen through. It sounded as if the rain had subsided and now would be a good time to traverse the slippery hillside, before their lanterns died out altogether. With her nod of acceptance, Thomas took hold of one rusted iron handle and Juan took the other, hoisting the chest with a grunt. Both men carried their lanterns in their other hands and began to leave the cave, Katherine trailing behind them carefully, feeling her boots sink into the mud with every step as wind wrapped around her once more.
Though the men carried what must have been a terribly heavy chest, the trek down the hill felt much quicker than the journey upward. In little time they were in front of the cart and the men grunted as they heaved the chest into the back. Katherine could not wait to get to… wherever they were going, for they had not even discussed a future beyond finding the treasure. Apprehensively, she climbed into the back of the cart, pleased to be out of the rain and cold, though it was not much better inside the covered space, with the opening of the tarp creating a wind tunnel, blowing her hair around her face.
“Ye all right, love?” Thomas asked, obviously sensing her sudden change of mood.
She wanted to ask where they were going. Would his grandmother threaten her again? Where would they live? Was he now an English outlaw? Would he resent her for being part of his downfall as an honored knight? What was truly within this chest now lying at her feet in this old rickety cart? Instead, she pursed her lips shut and gave him a nod.
He looked at her with concern for a moment but then smiled. “We did it, love.”
Two dark, hooded figures stepped into her line of view from behind Juan and Thomas just outside the back of the cart, like specters from the Underworld, and ice-cold fear flooded Katherine’s veins. “Behind ye!” Katherine screamed, but it was too late. As the hilts of the cloaked men’s swords simultaneously crashed down on their heads, Thomas and Juan crumpled to the ground. A blood-curdling scream escaped Katherine’s throat just as another man jumped into the covered cart holding a dirty rag and a length of rope.
“Nay! Thomas! Nay!” she wailed just before the sour rag was shoved into her open mouth and tied painfully behind her head.
As the man yanked her arms behind her back to tie her hands, he snarled at her, menacing dark eyes boring into hers. “Your father sends his regards, my lady,” the man said with a cultured English voice, just as the cart pulled away with haste, taking her and the treasure far away from Thomas, and no doubt, on the way to her madman of a father.
Chapter Fourteen
“Sir Thomas!” Juan’s thick accent was the first thing he heard before searing pain erupted at his temples, threatening to take him back under again. Wet and muddy, his entire body ached, but his brain felt as if it was ready to burst. “Sir Thomas! They have taken your wife! And the treasure.”
“My wife?” Thomas sat up swiftly, a sudden roiling in his gut. Leaning over, he spilled what little contents were left in his stomach and wiped his mouth with his drenched sleeve, certain he was only smearing more mud on his face. “Who… who took her?”
Juan looked down at him, shaking his head. “I am not certain, Captain. She cried out a warning to us just before we were hit in the head. I am certain at least one man was involved. They took the cart, horses… everything.
Fear gripped Thomas’s gut. They had his wife. He cared not for the bloody treasure. Someone had his wife.
“Who would do this?” Juan asked.
The answer came to Thomas as clear as the stars overhead on a cloudless summer night. “Her father.”
“But he is injured, no?” Juan put out a hand and helped Thomas out of the large puddle he had landed in.
“He is injured, but strong enough to murder a servant and he is still the commander of many men. He was at the house before we arrived. I was foolish to not consider this further…”
“Consider what, Capt’n?”
“That the man knew Katherine must return home. He had men watching, following, waiting to take her. Once they saw our destination, they had to know we sought something of value. They allowed us to do the work, awaiting our return!” he roared, then gripped his pounding head. Running his hand over his scalp, he felt the remains of dried, sticky blood in his hair, or mayhap it was mud. Either way, he was no longer bleeding, but his head would ache like the devil for some time. They were stranded in the rain and dark with no transportation. They would have to travel back to Clew Bay on foot and by then, Katherine would be in the clutches of her father once more.
Remembering the marks Bingham had previously left on Katherine, another wave of nausea hit Thomas hard, but he swallowed it down. All he could do now was reach Clew Bay and gather his crew. Her father wanted to take her home to England; he had told Katherine as much. He was wounded and not capable of much more than commanding a ship. Thomas’s gut told him he would find the bastard with his wife and his treasure on the seas heading toward England, and he vowed to hunt the man down. Once he was done with this nightmare, he could worry about the gold in the chest and hidden gems beneath the floorboards at the Governor’s manor. For now, he had a wife to save. That thought made a rebellious smile briefly cross his lips. He had a wife, aye, and he would do anything for her. The sudden loss of her made his affection clearer than ever.
How he had come to value Katherine Bingham, his enemy’s daughter, above the ancient treasure he had sought all his life, he could not fathom. But suddenly he understood, whether he knew it or not, it had been Katherine he sought all along, and he would be damned if he would lose her now.
Rubbing his temples, and with single-minded determination, he put one foot in front of the other, feeling the soggy earth shift beneath his boots with every step. His beige wool breaches and white tunic were now all one equally awful shade of mud-brown, but he never did care for the finery of the lords.
“Come, Juan. We shall travel to New Castle Manor. It is a closer distance than Clew Bay. From there, I am certain Governor Bingham will not mind if we borrow a couple of horses from his stables. Then, on to Clew Bay.”
“What are we going to do, Captain?” Juan asked as he followed in Thomas’s footsteps.
“I am going to kill him… again.”
* * *
The rough sea rocked the ship enough to make Katherine’s stomach roil. With both her hands and feet bound, practically held hostage in her own father’s cabin aboard his ship, it was all she could do to swallow back the urge to vomit. Fortunately, the awful storms had passed, but the wind and rain still pounded down on them. More than once in the past three days, she had feared the main mast would crack in two, snapping the boat in half and delivering them all to a watery grave.
The ancient treasure chest sat in the corner of the cabin beside her father’s bed. He was gravely injured; she could tell by the permanent sheen on his deathlike gray skin. Irritability and scorn were his only emotions when he had her delivered roughly by his three henchmen. They had left her unscathed, and she was thankful for small mercies, though she could not say the same for Thomas or Juan. Were they alive? The thought had tormented her endlessly every minute of every day, only adding to her constant nausea. After three days at sea, she thought for certain Thomas would have come for them. His absence frightened her. They must be closer to England than Ireland at this point, and she was not even sure if Thomas was alive or if he would, or could, try to find her.
The door to her father’s cabin opened slowly with a creak and she saw his blond head peek in before he hobbled forward, holding his injured side. “Have you figured out how to open it yet?” her father scowled, not bothering to look her in the eye. None of his
men could get the chest open, yet for some reason, he felt she could accomplish the task. Once she proved unable to force it open, she had been tied again. Something about the Celtic runes carved into the lid of the chest gave her pause. She had a strange feeling about them but had had no time to truly consider them.
“Nay. ‘Tis stuck. It may require special tools to open. It has lain in the ground for fifteen centuries, after all.” She was just fine with his lack of affection. If he could turn on her so swiftly, then he was no true father.
“I cannot believe you married him.” He had repeated that more and more every day.
“I cannot believe you are capable of so many terrible crimes, including murder.” She looked away from him with disgust. He had not attempted to beat her, but she believed it had more to do with his own injuries and his crew watching than his unwillingness to do so.
“I only ever did what I needed to do to. Peasants, servants, slaves,” he waved his hands around his head in dismissal. “They must be shown their place. If one or two die in the process, it is God’s will. I am certain my queen will agree.”
Katherine was not so certain, but she knew very little of the queen she was very close to meeting. Her father meant to thrust her existence onto her sister and stepmother in England. Her heart was aching in so many ways for the loss of Thomas, the loss of her life in Ireland, the loss of the opportunity she missed to help the poor people. What would happen to all the gold locked in her father’s chest? If he died from his wound, no doubt another governor would be appointed and move into the house. Would that man be kinder than her father? Will he discover the gold and keep it for himself? Give it to his queen? Share it with the Irish? Only she and Thomas knew of its existence and he had meant to give the queen’s fair share to her, and use the rest to help the Irish, but he was gone… the reality of that thought made her throat close up painfully as she swallowed her grief.
“You will have a better life in England.” Her father patted her head as if she were a wee child and not a woman full grown. “Are you with child?” His sudden accusatory tone made her gasp. She had not truly thought on that, but it was a possibility. Would he beat her if she admitted she might be? She could not know for sure, but if she did carry Thomas’s unborn child, she would do anything, say anything, to protect its life.
“Nay.” She replied with conviction.
“How can you know? Do not lie to me and say that man did not defile you. He is an O’Malley swine! Any child created from his seed would be the foulest mix of blood.”
Katherine grimaced at his harsh words. Her father was truly a hateful man. “I have started my… woman’s courses.” She whispered the lie and would leave it at that.
“You love him. I know you do. I heard it in your frantic voice when he jumped aboard my ship. You shouted his name from the main deck… you did not shout for me. You shouted for him.” Though he was thin and pale, he still towered over her. Tied as she was, she could not defend herself should he turn on her. Still, there was no sense in lying. If Thomas was gone, she would not dishonor the brief, yet overpowering love they shared.
“Aye. I do love him, Papa. He is not what you think he is. He is a loyal knight to his queen. His code of honor sits deep within him, guiding him.”
“He is a pirate!” Her father shouted, cutting her off. “He is filth! He is not worthy of your praise!”
“No more than ye are!” she shouted back, finally unable to resist her rage. “I found your bloody chest of stolen gold! Spanish gold! That was meant to aid the Irish in their freedom!”
“We are English, Katherine! The Spanish are our enemies! The Irish are our enemies! I took that gold out of allegiance to my queen and country!”
“Then why does it remain locked and hidden away in your room? Why is it not aboard this ship, in transport to the queen? Admit it, Father! Ye are the bloody pirate! Not Thomas Esmonde!”
Her head snapped back with the power of his blow across her cheek. Her skin stung, and she knew blood trickled from her lip, though she was powerless to wipe it away.
Shouts and commotion from the deck snapped her father’s attention away from her. A loud rapping on the door came next, followed by her father’s quartermaster. “Pirates on our tail, Captain. ‘Tis my former mother-in-law’s ship.” The man seemed rather calm and his words struck Katherine as more than odd. Her father’s quartermaster was married to a woman whose mother owned a pirate ship?
This man’s dark hair was mostly hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat, but gray strands could be seen at his temples. His clothing was impeccable with crisp tan breeches, a red tunic, and a leather jerkin. His gaze snapped to hers briefly and she saw curiosity in his deep blue eyes. Then his gaze shifted to her bleeding lip, and she swore she saw contempt before he schooled his features and addressed his captain again. “Your orders, Sir?”
“Load the cannons! Open fire! Take no quarter!” Her father blustered wildly, red rage filling his cheeks. “Why is the Sea-Banshee so far from the Irish border?”
“It seems she is in pursuit. Of you.” Again, the man spoke with such calm that it almost unnerved her.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Give the commands!”
Another man’s voice resounded from behind the quartermaster, though she could not see his face. “It is too late for your orders. Time is up, Bingham! Give me back my wife!”
Katherine’s heart leapt in her chest and she gasped loudly. “Thomas?” she cried, looking up as he stepped beside the quartermaster, who seemed to smile with a strange sense of pride. What was happening? Why was her father’s man seemingly so calm while their ship was apparently being boarded by pirates?
Thomas saw her on the floor of the cabin, arms and legs bound and lip bleeding. A fury unlike anything she had ever seen crossed her husband’s face, turning it to stone. He now wore black breeches with a black tunic, the laces open in the front, exposing his strong upper chest sprinkled with just a small amount of dark hair. He looked so very dashing… very much a pirate, especially with the gun secured in his belt and a sword at his hip.
“Katherine,” he growled, and pushed her father with so much force, he toppled like a sack of grain to the cabin floor. Thomas put his sword to her father’s throat, scowling and shaking with suppressed rage. “Ye dare strike my wife? Ye dare steal her away from me, then bind her like an animal?” The chill in his voice spread down her spine. Her father lay helpless on the floor, sprawled out, injured and unarmed.
“Thomas…” Katherine called softly to her husband, wondering why her father’s quartermaster stood aside and watched while the sounds of dozens of pirates boarding their ship drifted to her ears and his captain lay pinned beneath a blade. Her husband did not seem to hear her through his concentration and anger. “Thomas!” she shouted and finally, he seemed to notice her again.
“Ye cannae kill him, Thomas,” she said calmly.
“Aye, I bloody can, and I bloody will!” he spat, pushing the point of his blade slightly deeper into the flesh of her father’s quivering throat, small amounts of blood dripping from the wound.
“He is dying, Thomas. Look at him. His previous wound is bound beneath his tunic. He can barely stand…”
“Yet he commands men in his stead to hurt his daughter when he cannae!”
“Nay… nobody hurt me, Thomas,” she appeased. “Remember who ye are, husband. If ye kill an unarmed injured man, ye will never forgive yourself. Ye are not a pirate, aye? Ye are a knight. We are close to England. Let him face his queen for his crimes. Let him live long enough to feel his shame. Ye cannae kill him. Not like this.”
She hoped her words were sinking in, but she could not be so sure. In this moment, she cared more for Thomas than her bastard of a father. There was naught she could do for her father’s soul. He was dying a slow death and his tainted soul would suffer for eternity. But Thomas could still keep his honor: the honor she knew was ingrained in his blood, a knight’s code that, aside from his need for adventure and wi
ll to save Ireland, he would never wish to give up.
When his grip on his hilt tightened and she saw the tick in his jaw, she sent the quartermaster an imploring look. He seemed like a level-headed man. Surely he could see reason. Thomas would never regain his queen’s favor if he murdered one of her governors.
The man looked at her and her eyes widened in recognition. This man owned features she had seen before, now that she truly paid attention. Nay, she had never seen him, but he shared the strong jaw, sophisticated nose, and dark features of the man in the painting at Dheomhan Castle, the man named Shaw “the Savage” MacDougall. He shared features with Niall the pirate and with… her husband. What in bloody hell was going on?
The shouts and commands coming from the main deck sounded Scottish or Irish laced with the guttural language of pirates, not at all like the cultured British accents she had heard for the past three days. The quartermaster winked at her, just before stepping forward and gripping Thomas’s shoulder. “Your wife is correct, Son. I did not send you away to England all those years ago, only so you could betray your code and fall into disgrace.”
Katherine gasped and widened her eyes. Son? She looked from the man to her husband, back and forth, trying to make sense of everything. Thomas seemed to realize that their words spoke true, for he removed his sword and stepped away with a pained look on his face. “Tie the bastard up. He will face his fate with the Queen of England.”
His father nodded and immediately bent to retrieve Bingham’s prone form. He was shuddering like a coward on the floor. Once both their fathers disappeared into the reigning chaos outside the cabin, Thomas immediately sliced through her binds with his sword and scooped her into his arms.
“Och, Katherine.” He kissed her forehead, her nose, both cheeks, and then her lips tenderly, wiping away the blood her father had drawn. “I thought I had lost ye, love.” Pulling away, he examined her. “Did he hurt ye? I see he did,” he scowled as he touched her tender cheek. “I vowed to protect ye and I bloody failed!”
