The Lady Captain (Belles & Bullets Book 4)

by Caylen McQueen

  “Pffft!” Mae scoffed. “You can't be any older than thirty-five, right?”

  Kieran didn't answer.

  “Well, whatever. It doesn't matter...” After a third swig from the tankard, Mae took a moment of silent contemplation. When the moment passed, she confessed, “Actually, I'm the last person who should say age doesn't matter. When I met Nico, I lied to him.”

  “About your age?”

  “Yeah.” She returned the tankard to Kieran's pocket and crossed her arms over her chest. “I told him I was twenty-three... and then I told him I was twenty-six. But to be honest, I'm a little older than that.”

  “How much older than that?”

  “A few years.” Mae winced. “Or... five years.”

  “Well, who bloody cares.” When Kieran turned in her direction, he looked surprised. Mae's honey blonde hair was scattered by the wind. The tendrils thrashed so wildly, it looked as though a tiny tornado had landed on her head. “You're beautiful regardless.”

  “Beautiful?” Mae ineffectually tried to crush down her tousled hair. “You think I'm beautiful?”

  “Aye. Sure.”

  “Aww... that's sweet.” Mae gently squeezed his arm. “I feel like we've come a long way since I drugged you and stole your stuff.”

  “I know. We're making great strides in our relationship,” Kieran chuckled.

  “I wish Nico thought I was beautiful.” Mentioning Nico's name compelled her to pull out Kieran's flask again. She needed another drink. “I used to think he liked me, but now he's ditched me for Cinderella.” Mae pointed behind her, where Ella and Nico were riding inside the carriage. “What do you think they're doing back there?”

  “Oh, I don't know.” Kieran didn't care for nonsense gossip, so he tried to sound as disinterested as possible. “Snogging, probably.”

  Mae gasped. “Do you think so?”

  “That prince... I can tell he's a real ladies' man. He can't keep his hands off of her, I'm sure.”

  Kieran was being facetious, but Mae didn't interpret it that way. She polished off the rest of Kieran's whiskey—every last drop. When the tankard was dry, she handed it back to him.

  “Mr. McCray! Excuse me, Mr. McCray!”

  When he heard Ella calling his name, Kieran glanced over his shoulder. Her head was hanging out of the motocarriage window.

  “What is it, love?” he shouted to her.

  “Do you think we could stop for a bit?” Ella asked. “I knew it would be a long journey, so I brought food.”

  “Now isn't the time for picnicking,” Kieran rudely rejected the idea.

  “Please?” Ella was pouting, but he was no longer looking in her direction, so the pitiful expression was lost on him. When Kieran didn't respond, she sighed and said, “Very well... I guess Nico and I will have to eat all of these sandwiches by ourselves!”

  Almost as soon as Ella's head retracted from the window, Kieran stopped the vehicle. “Bloody hell, woman,” he grumbled. “I wonder if anyone ever says no to that girl.”

  Kieran hopped down from the motocarriage and observed his surroundings. There was an expanse of yellow grain on one side of him, and a grassy, daisy-laden meadow on the other side. The scent of wild honeysuckle was an assault on his nose, but it certainly wasn't worse than the smell of distant cow manure, carried by the wind.

  As soon as Ella was out of the carriage, he limped over to her and asked, “Well... where are you having your picnic?”

  “Over there, near those trees,” When no one protested, Ella made her way to the shade.

  As he followed, Kieran grumbled, “We can't wait around too long. I want to be at least halfway to the capital before nightfall.”

  “It won't take too long, Kieran, I promise!” Ella had such a sweet smile on her lips as she handed out her sandwiches, Kieran couldn't possibly be upset with her for wanting to stop. And Mae, who was jealous of Ella, had a difficult time disliking her when Ella's food was so lovingly prepared.

  “This is delicious!” Mae exclaimed. “You know, I'm glad Nico and I saved you that day. The food's been worth it.”

  “Thank you... I think?” Seemingly oblivious to the other woman's distaste for her, Ella sat down next to Mae.

  “I'm glad we saved her too,” Nico agreed. “I've enjoyed my time with her.”

  Mae licked mustard from her finger and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I'm sure you have, Nico.”

  As he devoured his sandwich, Kieran kept glancing in the direction of the motocarriage. It was as if he expected someone to steal it again. Either that, or he was eager to get back to driving.

  “So...” Mae turned her attention to the other female in their group. “How old are you, Ella... if you don't mind me asking?”

  “Oh!” Ella was momentarily taken aback by the question. “I'm... three and twenty.”

  “Three and twenty!” Mae slapped her knee and chuckled nervously. “Imagine that! You're exactly the same age as Nico! It's almost like you two were meant to be together, huh?” Though her lips were smiling, Mae's teeth were secretly clenched.

  “That is an interesting coincidence,” agreed Ella, who was too shy to look in the prince's direction. If she had, she would have seen him grinning.

  Mae leaned closer to Ella's ear and whispered, “Do you like Nico?”

  “I... well... um...”

  Ella was spared from the awkward question by the sound of a distant scream. Kieran shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and reached for his shotgun. When he hopped to his feet, his mouth was full and his words were muffled. “Yeah, that meansh itsh time to go.”

  “But... wait! What if someone needs help?” Ella's sweet smile had dissolved into a frown. “We should make sure they're okay, shouldn't we?”

  “I agree with Ella,” Nico said, but his opinion didn't carry much weight with Kieran. If Ella wanted to race through a mile of hot coals, Nico would probably agree that it was a good idea.

  “Yeah... no, we've got to go, mate,” Kieran insisted. They heard a second scream, which made his eyes go wide. “I have a motto: if it doesn't have shit to do with Kieran, Kieran's not going to step in the shit.”

  Ella and Nico didn't listen to him, nor did they obey him. They headed toward the woods, in the direction of the screams. Curses flew from Kieran's lips as he exasperatedly followed. Since he was the only one with weapons—and possibly the only one with sense—he felt obligated to keep an eye on them.

  Mae, who trailed behind him, politely suggested, “Give me a gun?”

  Kieran snorted at the thought. “Why? So you can rob me, steal my motocarriage, and leave me in the middle of nowhere? I don't think so, love.”

  They followed the screams to the top of a hill, where the line of trees suddenly terminated. Below them, there was a small farm. Two women, a mother and daughter, were under attack by thugs. One of men had his arms coiled around the younger girl, who was probably a teenager. Every time she squirmed, he shook her. The other two men dragged the mother to the ground. The woman wailed helplessly as one of them pulled her hair and shoved her face into the mud.

  “Kieran,” Ella whispered as she shook the mercenary's arm. “You have to do something!”

  He started to repeat, “If it doesn't have shit to do with Kieran, Kieran's not going to--”

  “Please,” Ella begged him. She pointed at the horrific scene. One of the thugs was climbing between the mother's legs, ripping her dress.

  “Damn... shit... alright!” Kieran tucked his shotgun under his arm and drew his pistol from its holster. “You three wait here. Whatever you do, don't let them know you're up here. I'm going to sneak around the side and look for an opening. If I fail and everything goes to shit, you three need to get out of here. Those men are armed. Do you understand?”

  As soon as he saw Ella's nod, Kieran dashed away, using the trees for cover.

  “Please! Please don't hurt her!” The mother pleaded with them. Even though she had a stranger crouching between her legs, her only concern wa
s for her daughter.

  One of the men roughly swatted the mother's cheek. “Shut your mouth, bitch!” Then he slapped her again, simply because he felt like it. As his friend started removing his belt, the third bandit groped the younger woman's bosom. When the daughter was shoved to the ground, kicking and screaming, Nico had seen enough, and Kieran wasn't acting quickly enough. He suddenly raced down the hill.

  “Stop!” the prince exclaimed. “Stop what you're doing! Unhand these women at once!”

  “Who are you, boy?” one of the ruffians chuckled.

  “Make me, son!” another man shouted and spat.

  The third thug pulled out a machete and maniacally sliced the air. “Oh, you're messing with the wrong blokes, boy. Once we're done with these ones, maybe we'll have some fun with you next!”

  One of the attackers, the one perched between the mother's legs, suddenly sprang to his feet and raced toward Nico. When he saw the man pulling out a knife, Nico started to back away. “Dammit, Nico...” he whispered to himself, “Maybe you didn't think this one through?”

  Fortunately, Nico wasn't alone. Kieran moved soundlessly from the trees, and while their backs were turned, he lined up his shots.

  The first time he fired his pistol, it was a perfect shot. It went straight through the ruffian's skull.

  Another shot. A second man went down.

  The third bandit barely had a chance to turn around before he was put to death by an alarmingly perfect head shot.

  When it was over, Kieran casually holstered his pistol and limped to the mother's side. “Are you alright?” When the mother started to sob, he turned to the younger woman. “And you, miss?” The shocked girl nodded and crawled to her mother. As the women cried into each other's arms, Kieran looked clueless. He was better with guns than compassion.

  “Damn, Kieran!” Mae exclaimed as she charged out from the trees. “That was insane! I didn't know you could shoot like that!”

  “Neither did I.” Kieran stepped up to Nico and slapped his arm. Though he hadn't meant to hit him hard, Nico nearly toppled over. “But I had to do well, or Mr. Chivalry would've gotten himself stabbed.”

  “Well... I'm proud of Nico,” Ella defended him. “He helped distract them, didn't he?”

  Kieran shook his head. “I'm not going to give credit to the man for almost dying.” Then he turned to the women and asked again, “Ladies...will you be alright?” When both of them nodded, he addressed his companions. “Okay, now that that's settled... everyone get their asses back to the carriage.”

  “You could try to say it a little nicer,” requested Ella with a frown.

  “Alright. Fine.” Kieran laid a hand on Ella's back and gently pushed her in the direction of the motocarriage. “Everyone get their asses back to the carriage... please.”

  Twenty Seven

  “Julian! Oh Julian Julian Julian!” Loreina's fingers relentlessly combed the captain's hair as he laid in her lap. “You have no idea how much I've missed you! I've been so lonely!”

  “I've... missed you too.” Julian had to force the words from his lips. It was a lie, of course—a lie he had delivered to at least a dozen different women. Ever since he left the palace, he barely gave the empress a thought.

  “I'm glad you visited me before the tournament. If you hadn't, I would've spent the entire day sulking in my room!” Loreina exclaimed. “And I'll still be sulking because I won't get to watch you fight!”

  Julian lifted an eyebrow. “You're not watching the tournament?”

  “I'm afraid not. But I'll be with you in spirit, dear. Regardless of where I am, I'll be cheering you on.” Loreina leaned down and brushed her lips against the baron's lightly lined forehead. “But I won't be cheering too hard, because I don't like the idea of you kissing my stepdaughter.”

  “What?” Julian suddenly sat up. “What's this about a kiss?”

  “Apparently, it's one of the rewards for winning the tournament,” Loreina explained with a shrug. She idly studied her fingernails, which had recently been polished. “And it's a silly idea, if you ask me. Princess Isabella is so... ordinary. It hardly seems like a titillating prize.”

  Loreina's opinion didn't matter to Julian. Now he needed to win.

  “Let's talk about something else,” Loreina suggested. “Or better yet, let's not talk at all.”

  When she started to remove his breeches, Julian slid backward on the bed. “Hmm... you know... I'd really rather not. Not before the tournament. I need to be clear-headed.”

  “Nothing clears the head better than meaningless sex.” When she made another grab for Julian's belt, he sprung from the bed and staggered to the door. “Julian!”

  He smiled innocently. “Hmm?”

  “I'm disappointed in you, Julian.” Loreina's lower lip protruded. She thought about giving him a glimpse of her breast, hoping it would entice him, but he didn't deserve it. “I never thought you'd be the sort of man who'd pass on a moment of pleasure.”

  “The thing is, Your Highness...” Julian nervously scratched his head. “The thing is, I would need more than a moment of pleasure. With you, I would need lots of moments. Once I get started, I can go and go and... you wouldn't want me to miss the tournament, right?”

  Loreina sighed deeply. “I suppose not.”

  “Well then...” Julian readjusted his belt, which she had somehow managed to unbuckle in the few seconds before he sprang from bed. “I really must be going.” As he slid toward the door, he tipped his hat to the libidinous empress. “Farewell, Your Highness.”

  “You better come back to me!” Loreina called to him as he slipped through the door. “If you forget about me, I'm not going to be very happy!”

  Loreina wasn't wrong about him. Julian rarely missed an opportunity to indulge in carnal pleasures, but he was right to leave when he did. He was already late for the tournament. By the time he arrived, the stands were practically filled. Had he turned up a few minutes later, he would have faced disqualification.

  It was Princess Isabella's birthday. When she entered the arena, trumpets hailed her arrival. She sat in the royal box, front and center, with her brother, Tobias and Lyneah. According to the princess, their superior vantage point was nothing to celebrate.

  “I hate fighting,” Isabella complained. “Do you know what the first event is? Boxing.” As she exhaled, the princess' shoulders sank, as if deflated. “Boxing is the worst.”

  “It's not my favorite either,” Lyneah agreed. “I'm not a fan of any sport that results in actual injury for its players.” In the corner of her eye, she studied the prince, who was shamelessly licking a giant meatball on a stick.

  Isabella noticed too. “Nico,” she whispered her brother's name. “Will you please not be so crude? We're in public. You need to mind your manners!”

  “But I like this meat!” the prince whined as he nibbled the savory orb. “I'll try to eat more neatly, sis.”

  Sis? Isabella's nose puckered at the word. Nico had never called her that before, so it was an odd thing to hear.

  The trumpets bleated noisily, announcing the beginning of the tournament. A few seconds later, the first two contenders marched out. One of them was Lord Cedric Felding, a finely-dressed earl with an impressive shock of messy black hair. His opponent was Sir Raymond Winterbottom, an elderly baronet with a cigar in his hand and an ascot around his neck.

  “I don't think I could hit an old m-man,” Tobias said. “I'd feel guilty.”

  When the older man crushed his cigar and swung the first punch, Lyneah was shaking her head. “Are you sure? You'd have a right to defend yourself! Would you really just stand there and let him punch you, Tobey?”

  “Probably,” he answered with a shrug. After a few seconds of watching the men swing their fists, he added, “You know, it's strange to see these earls and barons rolling up their sleeves and hitting each other. They're supposed to be gentlemen, but it's not a very gentlemanly thing to do.”

  “Oh, but boxing is a gentleman's spo
rt,” Isabella said with a roll of her eyes. “That's what they call it, anyway. Don't ask me why.”

  Though the event was listed as “boxing,” the contenders weren't restricted by rules. When Cedric's elbow collided with the old man's nose, the audience gasped. A stream of blood showered the dirt, but Cedric had no sympathy. When Raymond was doubled over, he finished his opponent with a strike to the head.

  “That poor old man,” Isabella sighed. “And I can't believe they're doing this on my birthday. Am I supposed to enjoy this violence? This is absurd!”

  “I want another meat thingy.” Her brother was licking his lips as he searched the area for more food. “Where do you think I could get one?”

  Two matches later, Isabella was tempted to close her eyes and forget about the tournament completely. However, when she heard Julian Featherstone's name, the life returned to her face.

  “Julian?” Isabella whispered to herself. “I didn't know Julian was here!”

  Julian swaggered to the royal box and bowed to Isabella. No other contender was bold enough to address the princess directly, let alone, present her with a gift. As he pulled a bouquet of yellow daffodils from his hat, he said, “It's lovely to see you, Your Highness. Happy birthday. You look even prettier than I remember. How is that possible?”

  “Oh my...” Isabella's cheeks were furiously blushing as she accepted the bouquet from Julian's outstretched hand. “Thank you, Lord Featherstone. These are beautiful.”

  “Not nearly as beautiful as you, though.”

  Julian's response had Lyneah's eyes rolling. To Tobias, she whispered, “What a cliché.”

  “For a kiss from you, my dear, I will fight with all the determination in the world,” said Julian. “Will you wish me luck? If I knew I had your favor, I would be more motivated than ever.”

  Isabella's cheeks never stopped blushing. As she brought the daffodils to her nose, she quietly said, “Good luck, Julian.”

  Julian suddenly pointed at Nico, who had somehow managed to acquire a second meatball. “It's good to know you're not dead, by the way,” he said to the prince. “Sorry I lost track of you in Baltmoor. But all's well that ended well if you're still alive, right?” Julian reached into the royal box to slap Nico's knee. Then he spun on his heel, hopped, skipped and twirled to the center of the arena.