Fire in the Hole (The Plundered Chronicles Book 3)

by Alex Westmore

  “Oh yes. She will no doubt recognize me or, at the very least, my reputation.”

  The silence was deafening until Quinn turned to Tavish. “So there you have it. The woman you apparently have feelings for is an English noblewoman with ties to royalty. Do you want me to send her away now, or do you want time to think about it?”

  “Callaghan!” Fitz blurted out.

  “Not our choice, Fitz. It is entirely up to Tavish whether or not–”

  “She stays,” Tavish said quietly, his eyes softening as he gazed at Maggie. “She’s proven whose side she’s on, and Callaghan is right–it’s not the first time one of us wore a mask.”

  Quinn jammed her hands on her hips. “And? Out with it, you crusty old Scot.”

  Tavish slowly reached for one of Maggie’s hands. “And I love her. Is that what ya wanted to hear?”

  “Actually, I was looking for ‘and I trust her,’ but I’ll take love as well.”

  Pulling Maggie to him, Tavish tentatively hugged her. “So yer a noblewoman, eh?”

  “I am a woman, Tavish. How noble remains to be seen. Are you all right with that?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Can I borrow a coin?”

  The tension broken by hearty pirate laughter, Quinn and Lady Margaret Seymour prepared for the ride to London.

  * * *

  With the credentials of a noblewoman, a dress of finest linen, and a lady-in-waiting, Maggie had no problem getting an audience with the Queen. After all they were, in a way, related.

  Not that this fact put Quinn at ease. Far from it. The truth was that she felt vulnerable out of her pirate attire. The dress, aside from being too small, was uncomfortable and limiting, the shoes too narrow and restricting. How she’d ever worn this garb was beyond her. It was not just stifling her body but felt like it clamped down on her spirit as well.

  Then there was the lack of weaponry. Oh, how she hated traveling without her sword. She’d managed to strap her throwing dagger sheath to her thigh, and that made her feel less... weak, but getting to them would take time—all that fabric and heavy material was a nuisance. She would be quite happy to be back in pants the first chance she got; she had threatened Fitz to within an inch of his life if he lost her clothes.

  While Fitz and One Eye had been fabulously quiet during the long ride to London, they chattered on amiably as they entered the city.

  They had been very understanding about Maggie’s desire to be someone else.

  Tavish... not as much.

  Quinn believed he would have taken it all in stride better had he been physically healthy and capable of assisting them. Not being able to do so was wearing thin on him, and he was becoming dour and grumpy.

  She couldn’t blame him, really. He had to stand by and watch as his best mate and new love ventured deep into enemy territory without him being able to lift a finger to help. That could not be easy for a man used to being in the middle of it all.

  “The Queen will see you now,” an older gentleman said finally, opening the door.

  Quinn didn’t know what she expected to see, but Queen Elizabeth looked nothing like the monster Grace had made her out to be.

  Her hair was slightly auburn and held back with gorgeous pins. Her face and hands were soft white, most likely from whatever goo English women put on their faces and hands to make them appear younger.

  But that’s not what froze Quinn in her tracks.

  Elizabeth had nearly the exact same eyes and penetrating gaze as her cousin, and for a flicker of a moment, Quinn felt as if this woman was looking right through her.

  For her part, Maggie seemed completely at ease and curtseyed low. “Your Majesty.”

  Elizabeth’s face lit up. “Margaret! How delightful to have you back at court. It has been far too long.”

  Rising, Maggie stood erect and smiled back. “Life has a way of flying past us, my queen.”

  Elizabeth barely motioned before another chair arrived.

  Just one.

  As a servant, Quinn was expected to remain standing.

  “Sit, please. How are Anne and Jane? You three are positively famous for your lovely poem. To have the first female-authored encomium published by a member of my court speaks highly of our culture and education. I am quite certain if Marguerite de Navarre were alive to read what you wrote, she would be very pleased.”

  “As am I, Your Majesty, to know you have read it.”

  Elizabeth’s lips almost grinned. “You know how we have always prided ourselves on promoting scholarship. So tell me, how is your family?”

  As Maggie sat, she regaled Elizabeth with stories about her two sisters and what everyone had been doing in the last ten years.

  Queens from all over, it seemed, were starving for good conversation. As Elizabeth leaned in to listen, she immediately reminded Quinn of Grace, Mary, and Sayyida.

  After nearly an hour of conversation that bored the hell out of Quinn, Elizabeth leaned back in her large, throne-like chair. “I could speak with you all day, but I am certain you did not come here for a familial update.”

  Maggie slowly pulled the first letter from her sleeve. “A terrible calamity happened to me, Your Majesty, that is too painful to discuss. As I was making my way to a physician, I stopped at Bolton Castle.”

  If Elizabeth was plagued by this, she showed no signs. Quinn was impressed with the Queen’s ability to hide her emotions.

  “A physician? Are you ill?”

  The admiration Quinn felt for Elizabeth instantly transferred to Maggie, who had thus far played all the right cards.

  “Actually, I am not ill... not like that.” Maggie then shared with Elizabeth the pain she’d endured at the hands of the Spanish on Tenerife.

  Elizabeth clasped her hand to her chest when Maggie softly said, “The sexual depravities I was forced to participate in have ruined me for any marriage. I was seeking a physician to help repair some of the... damage.”

  A small vein appeared on Elizabeth’s forehead. “Damn that Philip and his accursed Inquisition.”

  Maggie nodded and wiped away tears Quinn was positive were not feigned.

  “While at Bolton, I had an opportunity to speak with Mary, and she handed me this letter.” Maggie leaned forward and gave Elizabeth the letter. “She bade me to deliver it to you on my way home. I did not wish to insult her, so I–”

  Elizabeth shushed her. “No need to apologize. Let me first say how deeply saddened I am at your misfortune. Spanish men can be such brutes. Are you... did you receive the help you required?”

  “I did. Mary’s own physician looked after me.”

  “Ah yes. I recall her bringing her physician and surgeon. I am happy to hear he was... helpful.” Elizabeth set the letter on her lap, and it was at that moment Quinn saw her for the truly great leader she was.

  A lesser monarch would have torn the letter open, but Elizabeth stayed focused on Maggie. “King Philip shall hear from me, Margaret, and I shall demand proper restitution. While I cannot repair the damage done to you, I can at least let him know once more how ill-advised this witch hunt is.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. You are, as always, too kind.”

  Elizabeth held Maggie’s gaze a moment longer before she turned her attention to the letter.

  When she opened it, she paused to look up. “Mary has such beautiful script,” she murmured before reading the letter in silence.

  Quinn thought she was going to faint as she stood watching Elizabeth read the letter, the contents of which Quinn knew nothing about.

  When the Queen finished reading, she folded it back up and set it back on her lap. “Are you also asked to return with a reply?”

  “Oh, not I, your Majesty. I have two footmen who will return, if that is your desire.”

  Elizabeth was thoughtful before she spoke again. “As long as it is not an inconvenience to you. You have been through so much that I would not wish to put upon you any more.”


  “Thank you, Your Majesty. It is no inconvenience. I shall give them directions to take your reply straight away.”

  Elizabeth seemed to ponder on this a bit before pulling out her quill. “I shall keep it brief and require no return response.” Elizabeth wrote quickly before sealing the letter with her own stamp. “How is she? Mary, that is?”

  “She appears well. Hopeful, I believe, that you will aid her in the return to the throne.”

  “As most in court know, I have ordered an inquiry into the conduct of the confederate lords to see whether or not my cousin ought to be implicated in the murder of Lord Darnley. The inquiry will be held in York. I distaste any monarch being treated ill by the general population and wish this investigation soon over.”

  “Would you place Mary back a regent?”

  Quinn held her breath. Maggie was going too far.

  “If she would allow the Protestants religious freedoms and support, I would have no issue with her on the throne, but my advisors... ” Here, Elizabeth stopped. Handing her letter to Maggie, she said, “Men make even the simplest ideas nearly impossible to execute.”

  Maggie chuckled as she took the letter. “Truer words were never spoken. I shall relay your orders to my messengers to make haste.”

  “Excellent. Until then, I insist you remain here at court this evening, to rest and eat well. You are terribly gaunt.”

  Maggie rose and curtseyed once more. “My appearance, sadly, matters not any longer, I’m afraid. No man will ever have me.”

  Elizabeth reached her hand out and held Maggie’s. “Men are overrated, my friend. Though I wish that horror had never happened to you, believe me when I say you are better off without a man.”

  Fifteen minutes later Maggie and Quinn were escorted to a vacant room in the southern wing, where Quinn nearly collapsed.

  “You were brilliant, Maggie,” Quinn said as she flopped on the bed. “I must wonder if the great Elizabeth has ever been so played.”

  “It wasn’t so hard, really. She is a woman, after all, without equal. There is a dearth of good conversation at court. I must say, I am flattered she has read my work.”

  “I would be as well.”

  “Elizabeth is very much for the advancement of women. I daresay that if she ever met the likes of Grace O’Malley or Sayyida, she would admire them.”

  Quinn closed her eyes and tried to imagine a meeting between Grace and Elizabeth.

  “I think it best if we part ways in town,” Maggie continued. “Elizabeth has eyes everywhere, and we want her to believe I am returning home. I’ll draw you a map of where to meet me.”

  “You cannot go alone. Take Fitz with you.”

  “I shall do that.” Maggie turned the letter over in her hands. “I am somewhat surprised she would willingly place Mary back upon the Scottish throne.”

  Sitting up, Quinn fought with the dress. “I’m not. At least with Mary she knows what she’s getting, right?”

  Maggie laughed. “Indeed.”

  “Are you in love with Tavish?”

  The words hung in the air between the two women.

  Quinn stared at Maggie, shocked she’d just tossed the statement out there. “My apologies, Maggie–”

  “None needed, Callaghan. Anyone can see the bond you two share. My god, the fact of his torture alone is enough to see how deeply he cares about you. Am I in love with him? Very much so, but you knew that.”

  “No, I knew you loved him. So do I. But in love? That is a different emotion altogether.”

  Maggie gazed deeply into Quinn’s eyes. “He means a great deal to you, doesn’t he?”

  Quinn inhaled and nodded. “Very much so. And not because of what he sacrificed for me but because he is a good, good man. Loyal. Brave. Fierce. Fearless. He is an amazing man.”

  “Which is why he is so easy to love.”

  “You’ll take good care of him?”

  Cocking her head, Maggie frowned. “He’s not going anywhere, my dear.”

  “Maggie, his hand–”

  “Can be fixed.”

  “His back–”

  “Will mend.” Maggie placed two fingers over Quinn’s mouth. “Bones and skin heal. It’s his spirit I worry about. What he is going to need is for you not to treat him like he is... less. That will break his spirit, Callaghan, and I can’t let you do that.” Maggie removed her fingers. “Can’t and won’t.”

  This made Quinn grin. “And that is precisely why you are the perfect mate for him.”

  “He loves you too, Callaghan. Oh, how proud he was of you when they brought him back the first time. Puffed up like a peacock about ‘his laddie.’ And the second time he came back, and was the worse for wear, he still regaled us with stories about Callaghan this, Callaghan that, laddie this, laddie that. There were times he could barely take a breath without grimacing, but he held onto the belief that you’d find a way to save him. He never stopped believing.”

  Quinn rapidly blinked tears away.

  “The third time, he could barely move his lips, but he just kept talking about you. So if you have plans to deposit him somewhere back in Scotland, you better think again. That man adores you, and he never ever stopped believing in you. Coming through for him has only made him more beholden to you. So please, whatever your plans are, you must include him.”

  They passed the evening being entertained by a troubadour. Elizabeth did not make the performance, but it was enjoyable enough.

  By the end of the night, Quinn was exhausted—in part from losing the battle with the dress. As she lay in her bed, almost asleep, Maggie whispered, “Do you ever get lonely for... your kind of companionship?”

  “Sometimes. It is difficult finding a woman and harder making one understand my love of the sea. As long as I belong on the Malendroke, I do not belong in a woman’s heart. Her bed, yes. Her heart, no. That much I am beginning to understand.”

  If Maggie nodded, Quinn could not see, but she felt the loneliness of her own words.

  And for the first time, Quinn finally admitted to herself how lonely she really was. Even with the women she had loved and the men she was with every hour of every day, she still felt very alone.

  Maybe it was time to change that.

  * * *

  Standing before Mary once again, Quinn and Maggie waited while she read Elizabeth’s letter. Quinn could tell by Mary’s countenance that the letter pleased her. For that, she was grateful. Mary deserved a chance at happiness.

  Carefully folding the letter, Mary looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. “You’ve no idea how happy you’ve made me. Elizabeth wishes me to return and will be my advocate in the movement forward once the business at York is completed.”

  “That is wonderful news!”

  Mary nodded. “Now all we need do is make sure her wicked advisors hear the truth: I am innocent. Elizabeth will then aid my return to the throne.”

  Quinn rose from the chair. She wished to be gone from all of this now. This political chess game was not to her liking. It was time to go home.

  “Your debt is paid, Callaghan, as is Grace O’Malley’s. You have served us well.”

  “It has been my pleasure, Your Majesty, but if you do not mind, we would like to return to Ireland now. We have been gone a long time, and our people probably think us dead.”

  “Of course, of course.” Mary snapped her fingers, and her lady-in-waiting delivered to her a pouch, which she handed to Quinn. “This is not payment for your services. This is my gift to you to help get you home. Godspeed, my dear Callaghan. Godspeed.”

  * * *

  When at last they were reunited with Tavish, Kwame, and Beatrice, Quinn marveled at the love between Tavish and Maggie. He was so relieved to see them, all tough-man facade fell away, and he hugged both women to him as fiercely as his body allowed.

  “Yer a day and a half early, savin’ me some more grey hairs.”

  Maggie chuckled, then launched into the tale. While she told their story, Beatrice pulled Quinn as
ide.

  “There is a great deal of military movement about, Callaghan. Something about a trial in York? There are many more English soldiers around the area. You must not be caught by them on your way out of England.”

  Quinn frowned. “We are not enemies of the Queen of England.”

  Beatrice glanced over at Tavish. “Callaghan, you are Irish pirates in the company of a Scot and a Moor. You will be suspected by any soldier who stops you. As long as Tavish is with you, there are those who will believe him to be a supporter of Mary.”

  Quinn agreed. “What do you suggest?”

  “Head north to Scotland. It is nearly the same distance as going either east or west to exit England.”

  “Can he travel better now?”

  “Aye. He has healed well. My unguents helped greatly. I shall leave some with Maggie. But you must leave tonight. I have sent word to my sisters in Rookhope to look for you.”

  “Thank you. I... I can’t thank you enough.”

  “You are very welcome. Now, my sisters in Rookhope can get you to Scotland through the Pennines. They’ll take you as far as Melrose Abbey.”

  “Wait. Why an abbey?”

  Beatrice smiled. “The lands around the abbey were seized under the Dissolution of the Monasteries seven years ago, with the majority going to the Scotts of Buccleuch. The Laird of Buccleuch is a staunch supporter of Mary. Clan Scott has many who still believe in the old ways. They will assist you in getting out of Scotland. All of the arrangements have been made, but you must leave at dusk.”

  Quinn sighed heavily. Home had never felt so far away.

  * * *

  That evening, after saying their goodbyes, the six of them headed out on the five horses. It was slow going, as Tavish felt every jolt of the horse’s hooves. It wasn’t until he agreed to be drugged and laid across the front of Quinn’s horse that they made any headway.

  “He worried himself sick about ya when ya was gone,” Fitz said as the horses took a breather and walked, clip-clopping along.

  “Ya should have seen Maggie, Fitz. She slid right on into the role of noblewoman-writer like a hand in a glove. It was a joy to see.”