by Mia Pride
Maeve walked up to him slowly and placed a hand on his cheek with enough affection to make Katherine’s heart melt. The love of a mother was strong and she already felt it for her unborn child. Her emotions had been most unbalanced as of late, and she failed miserably to choke back a tear. She wiped it away with the long orange sleeve of her dress. Thomas had taken to protecting his younger sister quite fiercely, especially since she was ever-surrounded by pirates, and his frigid relationship with his mother had quickly thawed.
“I have my children and a grandchild on the way.” She placed her hand down on Katherine’s belly and laughed when the baby kicked back in response. Katherine grunted at the feel of it. It did not hurt, but it certainly felt odd, in the most miraculous way.
Thomas was silent, but she knew her husband well enough to know he was bursting at the seams with love and pride for this family, and thankful to be not only back in Ireland, but charged with the care of its people. He was truly where he should have been in this world, and she was glad to stand by his side, no longer an outsider looking in, seeking companionship from a distance. Those days of loneliness were over and when news of her father’s death came to them, she did not feel overly strong about it, one way or another. Though he deserved his fate, Katherine could never find it in her to wish his death, though Thomas was glad to be rid of him. His frigid wife and daughter in England, who had rejected Katherine before ever meeting her, were now left with nothing, and Katherine had graciously offered them aid and the chance to reside in the York manor the queen had bestowed on Thomas. Though she heard they took the offer, she had yet to receive a letter of thanks, not that she expected or wanted one.
She knew her sister Emily had wished to marry Thomas, intending to trap him with seduction. He had not fallen for her games, and she was likely jealous that her distant sister had won his heart the old fashion way: through mischief, debauchery, and misadventure. That thought made her laugh out loud, earning a strange look from her husband. She would share her thoughts with him later, as she knew he always enjoyed her devious mind.
As for his past lover, Frances, Katherine had had the pleasure of meeting her briefly while in England and was pleased to see that she was a lovely woman with a kind smile. She held no contempt for Thomas and Katherine and wished them well in life. Thomas had received a missive from Frances only a sennight before, explaining that her husband had been killed in a skirmish and she had immediately married a man who she quite loved, and who was being sent over to Ireland to aid in the English cause. Katherine was not certain if she would see Frances often or how far apart they would live, since the north was not quite a stone’s throw away, but she did hope to have Frances and her new husband over for tea at New Castle Manor someday.
Grace entered the room carrying a piping hot mug of tea and gingerly handed it to Katherine. The steam rose as the enticing scents of herbs and honey wafted to her nose. Who would have thought that Katherine would be served tea by the Pirate Queen one day? That thought also made her laugh as she said her thanks to the woman who tried so hard to pretend to hate Katherine, yet couldn’t stop showing affection. It was likely all she would get from the woman who had struck terror on the high seas for decades, and she was more than happy to accept it.
“Thomas!” The castle’s large wooden door flew open as Lawrence Esmonde strode through, looking very much the gentleman, his striking dark hair streaked with gray. He winked at her and tipped his hat to his former wife and mother-by-marriage before addressing his son once more.
“A French galleon is on the horizon! Our men are already raising anchor! Care to give them a wee surprise?” His father was now captain of an English ship, though his interests and loyalties wavered depending on the weather. As long as his father gave his fair share of bounty to both Ireland and England, Thomas was content to look the other away, and in most cases, join in on the chase. Nothing enticed her husband more than a chance for adventure on the sea and the potential for gold… well, almost nothing. She smiled, remembering their intense love-making of the night before. She vowed she would not walk straight for a sennight.
Juan stepped around Lawrence and scoffed. “It should not surprise them so when they foolishly sail close to Clew Bay, no?” Thomas had tried to set Juan free from the stubborn need to stay by his side. Though Thomas and Katherine liked Juan very much, they felt he should return to his homeland of Spain. It seemed, however, he was perfectly happy to stay with them where he could sail the seas and earn more gold than he had under Phillip II’s command.
“Let us go, then,” Thomas smiled roguishly, his white teeth flashing through his dark beard. “We would not want them to get away without paying a toll, aye?” he waggled his brow.
“I suppose I am to stay here,” Katherine sighed, and sipped her tea.
“Ye willnae get near a ship, ye understand, Katherine?” he barked protectively. It seemed he was never sure if his wife would heed his commands. She would, for she would never risk her child, but she liked to keep her husband wondering what her next move would be.
“As ye say, husband,” she winked. “Do be careful.”
Bending over, he took her face in both his large hands and kissed her deeply, passionately, feeding her soul with his own. “I will, Kat. I love ye.”
She smacked his arse as he strode off. “I love ye as well, Baron Esmonde.”
The three men exited the castle and Katherine laughed wildly before taking another sip of tea.
“What is so funny?” Thomas’s sister asked suspiciously.
“Oh, only that I wonder if the French are ready to be plundered by a knight… much like I was,” she added with a wink.
Author’s Note
Writing Plunder by Knight was just too much fun! I want to give you some inside information about how I created this story and some of the historical aspects involved. All of my books to date revolve around Ireland and Scotland! I love everything about those countries, being Irish and Scottish myself. When I set out to write a pirate book, I knew I had to write about Grace O’Malley, the infamous Pirate Queen of Ireland during the Elizabethan era.
Grace was a force to be reckoned with and no man stood a chance against her strong will, fiery temper, or, as it is said, enchanting beauty. The O’Malleys were a fishing clan for centuries, living off the coast of Clew Bay, which later became her very own pirate stronghold. Though born a woman, she was determined to sail like a man. When she was told she could not because “her hair was too long and would get caught in the ropes”, Grace simply cut it off and boarded her father’s ship. He was quite amused and allowed her to stay. From that moment on, her love of the sea and adventure led her on many journeys and gave her great fame.
She was married twice in her life. Her first marriage did indeed leave her with children named Owen (who was really killed by Richard Bingham), Murrough (who did truly turn on his family after Owen’s death, and Margaret, also known as Maeve, who did actually marry Lawrence Esmonde and birth Thomas Esmonde. So, indeed, our hero did in fact exist!
Why did I choose to write about Thomas Esmonde? After lots of in-depth research, I was able to find very little about his life, which I found fascinating given who his family was and that his grandmother is so heavily documented. We do know that his mother ran off with him when he was a baby because her husband Lawrence had converted to Protestantism. Mauve O’Malley would not have a Protestant son! After that, little is known of Thomas. Lawrence Esmonde did accept Thomas as his son but refused to acknowledge that his marriage with Mauve was ever valid, which made Thomas Esmonde unable to inherit his father’s eventual barony.
Well, Thomas made the perfect hero for my story! The part about him going off to England to become a knight is entirely fictional and a figment of my own imagination. But with his mother and father on differing sides of a very complicated time in history, I wondered what it would have been like to be Thomas and how his life would have panned out.
The wars between Ireland and England did
happen and truly did devastate Ireland, especially the north (Ulster) and Richard Bingham truly was the governor of Connaught at the time. He was the bane of Grace O’Malley’s existence and responsible for many atrocities. In reality, he was sent home in disgrace by the queen, but actually at a much later date than in my story. He also did not die of an infected wound, but I thought he deserved the fate I gave him, don’t you?
Katherine Bingham is entirely fictional, but I knew Thomas needed a spicy lassie to keep him on his toes, and who better than his enemy’s daughter?
The story about the Treasure of Danu very much ties into my previous ancient Irish books that take place centuries before Plunder by Knight. If you wish to read more about Thomas’s ancient ancestors, you can find them in my Sisters of Danu series and my Warriors of Eriu Series. Book four of Warriors of Ériu is called The Warrior’s Reunion and will feature the very treasure Thomas hunted to find, sort of the prequel to Thomas’s search. That story is expected to release summer of 2018, so keep an eye out and learn all about the treasure and Thomas’s wild, Celtic ancestors!
I truly hope you enjoyed Plunder by Knight and the careful historical details I combined with my fictional musings and dramatics. It was a delight to write and I hope it was a delight to read!
For more about my other books, check out my Amazon author page or continue reading for an excerpt from my award-winning and RONE nominated novella, Forsworn Fate (Prequel to the Sisters of Danu series) and another short excerpt from The Warrior’s Mission (Warriors of Ériu book three). Thank you very much!
Cheers,
Mia Pride
About the Author
Mia is a full-time wife and mother of two rowdy boys, residing in the SF Bay Area. As a child, she often wrote stories about fantastic places or magical things, always preferring to live in a world where the line between reality and fantasy didn’t exist. In High school she entered writing contests and had some stories published in small newspapers or school magazines. As life continued, so did her love of writing. So one day, she decided to end her cake decorating business, pull out her laptop and fulfill her dream of writing and publishing novels. And she did. When Mia isn’t writing books or chasing her sweaty children around a park, she loves to drink coffee by the gallon, get lost in a good book, hike with her family and drink really big margaritas with her friends! Her happy place is the Renaissance Faire, where you can find her at the joust, rooting for the shirtless highlander in a kilt.
Connect with Mia!
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Website: http://www.miapride.com
Blog: https://miapride.wordpress.com/
Also by Mia Pride
Excerpt from THE SEA DEVIL
by Eliza Knight
Enjoy this except from Book 3 in the Pirates of Britannia series…
CHAPTER ONE
Edinburgh, Scotland
1445
Though he wasn’t drunk, he was perfectly willing to let every other buffoon in the tavern believe it were so.
Thor, Captain of The Sea Devil, and longtime second-in-command to the Prince of the Devils of the Deep brethren, often played this game.
The thing was, when a dunce believed Thor to be deep in his cups, he often joined him, and when a man was liquored up, his tongue became loose as a tavern wench in need of coin. And that was how Thor often found out about treasure that needed saving, or heads that needed bashing. Verily, the usual squealers were the swain with enough ale or whisky in their bellies to widen their jaws and wag their tongues.
As it happened, right now, a very intriguing conversation was taking place a few tables away. Talk of pirates and gold—two things that were liable to interest anyone in the tavern, not just Thor.
Letting out a belch loud enough to shake the rafters, Thor tapped his mug on the table rather obnoxiously and shouted, “Another! And shome for my”—he waved his hands in the air and pretended to tip back on his chair, balancing mid-air before righting himself with a snort of fake laughter—“all my friendsh.”
The men in the tavern let out a loud round of whoops and hollers, clicking their mugs as the wenches scurried to fill them with ale up to the rims and collect the coin from Thor before he changed his mind. On the far side of the tavern, men broke out in song, boot heels tapping against the sagging wood of the floor. The torches danced precariously in place where they hung on the walls. One of the drunkards picked up a set of bagpipes and began to play a rather dismal and shameful rendition of a Highland ballad.
Well, that wouldn’t do. Thor charged across the tavern, making certain to bounce against a few backs, spilling his ale and appearing unstable as he made his way there.
“That ish not how ’tish done,” he slurred. “Let me show ye.”
“Ye?” the buffoon laughed. “Another round says ye fall on your arse when ye blow.”
Thor grinned. “And if I do, I’ll shtill keep on playing.” Lord, help him, but he hoped the men discussing gold and pirates fell for his act.
Thor grabbed the pipes, settled them against his shoulder, left hand holding the chanter, right hand on the bag. He blew into them, and the squealing sound that issued was enough to have the men falling over laughing. But once he had a handle on the pipes, he played a haunting melody he’d penned on the high seas. The men of the tavern couldn’t hear the words he’d created to go with the song. No one would ever hear them twice, for he changed them in his mind each time.
When he finished the song, he dutifully fell to his arse with a laugh, tossing the pipes back to their owner.
“Impressive, ye drunk bastard,” said the man as he caught the pipes.
“No matter how drunk, a man always knows how to play his pipes,” Thor said, bringing out a round of laughter from the men. “Drinks on my friend here!”
As the wenches moved to refill the cups, Thor climbed to his feet, glancing out the side of his eye toward the men he’d been spying on earlier. They were still there, still talking in hushed tones. They’d stopped while he played, mesmerized as everyone else was by Thor’s sea song.
He wagered the time to be nearing midnight, and most of the rapscallions in the place had been splashing ale and whisky down their throats for the better part of several hours.
Thor staggered around the tavern, pretending to drink his empty cup of ale and slapping random men on their backs. To keep his ruse going, he shared a juicy tidbit about a wench he’d bedded the day before—a total lie—but it drew him closer to the table huddled in the corner, which was what he wanted. Thor didn’t bed women simply to brag about it, but for some reason, bawdy jests and innuendo always seemed to open men up, and so he’d use that to his full advantage.
“Aye, he’ll be paying a hefty sum in gold,” said the man farthest at the table from Thor.
Thor listened to their conversation as he continued being rowdy with the men at the table beside them.
“How much?” one whispered.
“I heard tell it was an entire chest of gold. A king’s ransom.”
“For a wee bairn?”
A wee bairn… What in the bloody hell kind of treasure was that? What pirate wanted to deal with a child? Thor could barely stand the adolescent lad he’d helped his pirate prince Shaw “Savage” MacLeod rescue just a few months ago. The lad followed Thor around like a puppy. Well, until Thor snarled.
“Well, ’tis not a bairn no more,” they continued, and Thor let out a loud belch to his newfound friends, which inspired a round of who could belch the loudest.
“How old?” The men looked about, none of them seeing Thor’s side-eyed glance.
“He said twenty or so.”
What in Hades were they talking about? Thor resisted the urge to knock their heads together and insist they spit the information out faster.
“Lad or lass?”
“He’s not sure.”
“Ye mean to tell me, Santiago Fernandez put out the word that he’d pay a king’s ransom for a bastard he got on a Scots lass
two decades ago, but he’s not certain if it be a lad or lass?”
Whoa now… Thor almost choked on his empty mug. Santiago… Had he heard that correctly?
“Aye. A Scots whore. Santiago’s got a bastard running around if ’tis still alive.”
An icy chill rushed through his veins at the mention of Santiago Fernandez.
Thor growled, letting out a low curse, which startled his new friends.
“I need more ale!” he shouted, pretending that was the reason for his outburst.
A wench was by his side in less than a second, filling his mug as she rubbed her ample bosom against the front of his shirt. He winked at her, made to reach for one of her breasts, but she playfully batted his hand away. The men at his table laughed, but Thor felt no humor. Rather, he was seething inside at what he was hearing.
Captain Santiago Fernandez was his mortal enemy. Hate didn’t even begin to explain how Thor felt about him. He loathed the man. And for good reason. The first time Thor ever laid eyes on him was when the Spanish pirate stood over the body of Thor’s mother, laughing. The bastard had killed her. Murdered her in cold blood and left her bloodied and battered body on display for everyone to see, including Thor when he was just a lad. Santiago was the reason Thor had become a pirate two decades before. Five years ago, he’d thought the day of reckoning was at hand, but the bastard leader of Los Demonios de Mar had outmaneuvered him, then captured and tortured him. But that didn’t mean Thor was going to give up. Their parting words all those years ago had been Thor’s vow to see Santiago dead.
