The Pirate's Booty (The Plundered Chronicles Book 1)

by Alex Westmore

  Pulling his meat cleaver out, Murphy held it up for Quinn to see. “She means these six.” He smiled, something he rarely did, and Quinn understood why: he was missing his two front teeth.

  “Alrighty, Callaghan,” Grace said. “It’s high time ya showed me what ya got.”

  Quinn’s eyes pleaded with Murphy. “Tell me she’s kidding.”

  “Captain? Uh-uh. We both held off an entire town once until the rest a’ our crew could get here.”

  “How would they––”

  Suddenly, a loud horn sounded.

  Murphy hooked his thumb over in the direction of the sound. “Captain stole it off a Turkish ship because she wanted a warning noise.” Murphy slapped Quinn on the back with a big, meaty paw. “Don’t ya worry, Callaghan. We only gotta hold ’em off until the ones that are still sober can come runnin’.”

  Quinn felt her palms get sweatier and sweatier as the midmorning sun beat down on the deck and her shoulders.

  “Come on!” Grace commanded, holding her swords up. “Let’s show these bastards what they get fer attackin’ an O’Malley!”

  Murphy leapt next to her and readied himself. Quinn joined the two of them. The dozen men became two dozen. She couldn’t imagine how the three of them could fend off twenty-four men bent on killing them and probably destroying the ship.

  “Don’t ever let ’em see yer fear,” Grace said. “Be fierce. Always fearless.”

  Quinn felt her heart bang inside her chest. The crowd of men stopped at the gangplank, their voices growing louder and more antagonistic the more emboldened they became.

  “The dark-haired fellow is their leader,” Grace said. “I’ll take him. Second in command is the tall thin one.”

  “How can ya––”

  “I’ve been fightin’ hooligans like these fer a long time, Callaghan. Once ya take the wind from their sails––”

  Before she could finish, the men yelled and started up the plank, swords flashing in the sunlight. Sure enough, the dark-haired man led the charge, and Grace prepared to meet him.

  When the two leaders’ swords clanged loudly against each other, Quinn and Murphy leapt into the fray. His meat cleaver split a man’s face in half, while her short sword severed a neck artery of the second in command.

  Three down, many more to go.

  The first time she’d slipped in blood on the deck of the ship, Quinn had nearly vomited. The iron smell of it had hit her so hard, it had nearly dropped her to her knees.

  She was used to it now, all the blood and gore—and there was plenty of it to go around. A man who was gutted across his abdomen would watch his intestines leap from his body as if propelled by an invisible force.

  It was disgusting, but she had somehow gotten used to it.

  Quinn took on the next two men and was about to feel the bite of their blades when Grace let two of her daggers fly into the attackers’ chests. Quinn put her boot on the nearest man’s stomach and kicked him back into the oncoming men.

  Five down.

  Quinn glanced over as Murphy sliced the face of one man while shoving another off the plank. In the back of her mind, she marveled that he was an amazingly good fighter for a cook.

  Grace appeared to be enjoying herself as she battled two more attackers with relative ease. Quinn took care of the shorter man coming at her, driving her short sword through his kidney, but to do so, she had to turn her back on the men coming up the plank. As a result, the next man cracked her over the head with the hilt of his blade.

  Quinn went down hard, her long sword clattering away from her as she landed chin first on the deck, which was slick with blood. Rolling over on her back, she barely managed to get her short sword up to deflect the blade that hammered down at her. The second blade was on its way toward her head when a large, thick hand grabbed her attacker by the neck and tossed him over the side.

  Bending over, Murphy helped her up and, too late, turned to the three men running at them. “Get behind me!” he ordered, pushing Quinn back. The first sword nicked Murphy’s ear, and the second blade would have taken his head completely off if an arrow hadn’t ripped through the attacker’s neck.

  Connor.

  Letting arrows fly in rapid succession, Connor took out ten men in twelve seconds, preventing the O’Donnell clan from accomplishing whatever it was they’d come for.

  When Grace slit the throat of the man she’d been fighting, she waved her men up to the ship.

  “What took ya so long?” Grace bellowed when a dozen of her crew ran on board. More than one of them was clearly a little more than tipsy.

  “Sorry, sir, but we––”

  “It was not a real question, ya dolt.” Grace wiped the blood off her swords before sheathing them. “Still, ya managed ta return just in time. Good thing, too, or I’d have had ta come get ya, and we both know how that would have worked out.”

  Connor lowered his head. “Aye.”

  Grace turned her full attention to her crew. “Once again, ya’ve done yer captain proud. Now, can someone tell me why the O’Donnells attacked us? Which one a ya did somethin’ ya are going ta regret?” Grace paused like a woman outwaiting her children.

  Ever so slowly, a man named Innis raised his hand. “It could’ve been me, sir.”

  “Well, go on, man. What did ya do ta turn the O’Donnells into our enemies?”

  “Well, now, it may have been a sister... or a––”

  “We were attacked because of a woman, ya skirt-chasing arsehole?” Grace stepped forward toward Innis, her face almost distorted from rage. “Ya better have a damn good explanation. As my second, Innis, ya are held above reproach.”

  “Above what?”

  Grace cursed. “I swear ta god, the rats on the dock are smarter than the lot a’ ya. Why do we have a woman ta blame?”

  “She was beautiful?”

  Grace paused, glared at him, then broke into a guffaw. “Let it not be said that the O’Malley clan beds ugly women!”

  The crew cheered and roared loudly, and Grace ordered the merriment to continue at the tavern after the ship was cleaned and the blood washed away.

  Once the dead were pushed into the water, Grace found Quinn and took her by the arm. “That was some verra good fightin’ back there, Callaghan,” Grace said, her eyes intent on Quinn’s face. “Where did ya learn how ta fight like that?”

  “My brother and I have fought with wooden swords since we were yea tall.”

  “And who usually won?”

  Quinn hesitated.

  “I can’t abide false modesty, Callaghan. Did ya win?”

  “Yes, sir, most of the time.”

  “Why?”

  Quinn frowned. “Why?”

  “Aye. Why did ya win and not yer brother?”

  “Oh. Because he lacks focus... conviction. He doesn’t like ta kill.”

  “And ya do?” Grace crossed her arms across her chest.

  “When it is necessary, I have no quarrel with it.”

  Grace threw her head back and snorted. “Now that is a diplomatic reply, Callaghan. Ya got a first name?”

  “Kieran.”

  “Well, Kieran Callaghan, ya have a place on my ship fer as long as ya choose ta stay. I like men with conviction. Even more when they fight as well as ya do. Yer quick. Quicker than most.”

  Quinn smiled. “My father says speed is a better weapon than strength.”

  “Yer da is a wise man. Now, go on into town and find yerself a woman. That’s an order.”

  As Quinn made her way off the ship, Grace called out to her. “Trust me on this, Callaghan. There’s no better sex than after-fightin’ sex.”

  Nodding, Quinn started toward town with the goal of finding out if that were true.

  ***

  The slender fingers snaked their way over Quinn’s hip and to her stomach, when Quinn gently held them and brought them to her lips.

  “Ya fell asleep afore I could take care a’ yer needs, lover.”

  Rolling over, Quin
n faced a young woman with porcelain white skin, flowing red locks, and lips that looked like two halves of a strawberry.

  The night had been long, the one-way sex robust, and the sleep afterward welcome and peaceful.

  “I wish I could, but I am expected back at the ship shortly.”

  The woman kissed her softly. “Shortly is all it will take, my generous lover. I’ve been loved by my fair share a’ seamen, but what ya did ta me last night... unbelievable.”

  “Perhaps when I return.”

  “No perhaps about it, dear sir. I intend on showin’ ya part a’ the world ya’ve never seen.”

  Grinning, Quinn kissed the woman again before leaping off the bed. She hadn’t intended on spending the night, but Grace was right about sex after battle; she’d given this beauty the time of her life.

  “I will hold ya ta that, Moire,” Quinn said, grabbing her swords. “Thank ya fer a deli––fer a grand night.”

  Moire threw the covers off to display the curvaceous and buxom body Quinn had spent hours enjoying. “So long as ya hold this ta ya again... ”

  Quinn smiled. “Try and stop me.” With that, she left the woman’s room and headed toward the marketplace, where she found Patrick and Connor being entertained by a juggler.

  “Finally come up fer air, did ya?” Connor asked, slapping her hard on the back.

  That was one of the more irritating male mannerisms Quinn had had to get used to: the huge back slap.

  “I have.” Quinn caught Patrick’s look. “What have you all been about?”

  “Connor tried hard to find a woman, and I lost my coin playing a dice game.”

  “He gave it a good try, though,” Connor said. “Captain plans on takin’ a coupla boats ta Clare Island. Patrick and me are goin’. Ya comin’?”

  Quinn shook her head. “How long’s she planning on being?”

  “No more’n a few days. Check back in day after tomorrow, and Murphy’ll let ya know if the captain isn’t about.”

  “Good. Then go on and enjoy yer time on the island. See if ya can stay out of trouble, will ya?”

  Patrick’s eyes narrowed. “What are your plans?”

  Quinn handed Connor a silver piece and told him to buy some fruit at a stall several yards away. When he was gone, she said, “I’m going to see Kennedy. There are a few items I need to get from her before––”

  “That’s so risky, Quinn. You could easily run into Father.”

  “Not easily, Paddy. Being in the same county doesn’t mean we will be on the same roads. I’ll be fine.”

  “What are you getting that you can’t just buy? You brought enough coin for a dozen men.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “And rightly so! Everyone is talking about how you, Murphy, and the captain took on over a dozen men. Do you have any idea what Father would do to me if something happened to you? He just thinks you’ve gone abroad to school and that I am remaining until you have settled in. What would I tell him if something happened to you? ‘Sorry, Father, but she died fighting pirates on Grace O’Malley’s pirate ship’? You must stop putting yourself in such danger.”

  Quinn stared at him. “Brother, we live on the pirate ship of one of the most notorious captains on the sea. We are always in danger.”

  Patrick sighed. “I guess... I guess I just never expected you to take to it so well.”

  Quinn kept an eye on Connor, who was busy flirting with a woman twice his weight. “Patrick, do you have any idea, any at all, of how dull and static a woman’s life is? Especially one from a wealthy family such as ours? Bloody hell, even serving wenches see more life than I did. I don’t want to be a pretty parrot in a gilded cage. I’d far rather take my chances in a murder of crows than live like that.”

  Patrick slapped his forehead. “See? That’s just what I mean. Who here speaks like that? No one. These men can barely distinguish between a fart and a grunt.”

  Quinn chuckled. “I am all too aware of the truth in that, brother, but there are things I need from Kennedy. I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll be, but what about me?”

  Quinn lightly held his arm. “Then go home. Tell Father I’ve lost my mind. Tell him I fell in love with the sea and never made it to France. Tell him I decided to––”

  “Are you mad? He would turn me around, kick me in the arse, and demand that I go and get you. No, as long as you insist on keeping your childhood promise, I will remain with you.”

  Quinn lowered her voice. “Patrick, it’s okay for you to go home. I know you do not like being on the ship with men who would cut off your head as soon as look at you. It is not in your blood to kill a man.”

  “I do not like it, but you do. That’s what worries me, Quinn. You do. Then you speak of being bored as a woman... so what do you plan to do after you find Shea? Return her home only to double back to Captain O’Malley’s life of plundering and pillaging? You can’t do that.”

  “I do not yet know what I will do once I find Shea, but whatever I decide will be my decision to make.”

  “This is about marriage, isn’t it?”

  Quinn watched Connor as he made his way back to them. “In a manner of speaking, yes. I’ll not be told when and who I ought to saddle myself with. I’ve tasted freedom, Paddy, and I am unlikely to go back to being a noblewoman locked in fine silver chains.”

  “But Quinn––”

  “Connor!” Quinn interrupted, calling over Patrick’s shoulder to the approaching man. “Ya chose well, I hope.”

  Connor held up the net he always carried with him. In it were various colorful fruits. “Aye. These fruits are juicy, but her fruits were plump. I shall be tastin’ a’ those later this week.”

  Quinn took three of the fruits––an apple, a pear, and an orange––and started down the road. “Ya two keep Captain O’Malley safe while yer drinking and carousing. I shall see ya back here in a couple of days.”

  A few streets down, Quinn traded her fruits and several pieces of silver for a grey mare that proved to be too headstrong to sell to anyone else. She managed to mount the mare with no effort.

  “How did ya––”

  “Horses are like women, my friend. They want both a soft touch and a firm hand.” Nudging the horse gently, Quinn turned it around and headed for the outskirts of her family’s village nearly two hours away.

  ***

  “Quinn!” Kennedy threw her arms around Quinn’s neck and hugged her tightly.

  Quinn embraced her childhood friend with equal fervor. “You’re choking me, silly girl!”

  Stepping back, Kennedy smacked her on the arm. “I should do more than choke you! Look at you! You’ve lost weight, your face is filthy, and those fingernails? Ugh. Please tell me you’ve found her so you can cease this charade.”

  Quinn knew she could not bluff her way past Kennedy. “I haven’t found her. All I have to go on is the figurehead of Medusa.”

  “You’ve been gone over a month and all you have is the figurehead of what ship could have taken her?”

  “It’s an enormous ocean, Ken. It isn’t as if we sail by a lot of ships every day. I have an idea, and I am going to follow it until I find her.”

  “Like... this?” Kennedy waved her hands at Quinn’s filthy ensemble.

  “Yes. Just like this. Being a man on a ship is the only way I know how to do this.”

  Kennedy leaned in, their faces inches apart. Her eyes were a deep, forest green, and they stood on opposite sides of a button nose and ripe lips. She was a beautiful woman. “Bloody hell. You are enjoying all this manning around.”

  “Manning around?” Quinn shook her head. “Keep your voice down. I am not manning around, but if you must know, yes, I am enjoying it. Very much so. Men have it so much easier than we do.” Pulling Kennedy over to a large flat stone they used to sit on as children, Quinn motioned for her to sit. “I need you to listen to me.”

  “I’ll only listen if you are honest with me and don’t treat me like some serving wen
ch.”

  “I am honest with you. I have always been honest with you.”

  Kennedy motioned for Quinn to go on.

  “I understand that this is dangerous. That was a fact we knew before we cut my hair. That will never change. Do I like the danger? To be blunt, I do. I like the danger, the freedom, the smell of salt air, and the camaraderie. I like seeing new places and trying new foods. Every day is different, Ken. Every port, unique. I’ve met Turks, Spaniards, French, Tunisians, gypsies––”

  “As a man, Quinn. As a bloody man. You’re not yourself. You don’t walk through the same world wearing pretty clothes or––”

  “Clothes!” Quinn said, snapping her fingers. “That’s what I came for. I need those clothes I left when I went away.”

  “You’re not hearing me.”

  “I hear you well, Ken. You are concerned because I am enjoying life at sea. Don’t worry so. It is not forever. You must trust that I know what I am doing.” Taking Kennedy’s hands in hers, Quinn held her gaze. “A lifetime ago, we made a pact. A blood oath.”

  “We were children.”

  “Aye, but we are also clan members. This is the way of our people. I cannot abandon her when she needs me most just because I am a woman. She’s our friend. Our clan member. And she is in trouble.”

  “Father says the clans are dying––that Elizabeth will ensure they die.”

  “It’s not true. The woman has only been on the throne two years, and already we have her squashing us? That is an unlikely feat with the likes of Captain O’Malley at the helm.”

  “Do you even hear yourself? Grace O’Malley is a pirate! A killer! A thief! You make her sound like a saint. She’s a murderer and a beast, and some say she does unnatural things with women.”

  Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “She does not. She is an incredible leader of men... a natural leader. The only one doing unnatural acts is me, and I say I quite like it.”

  Kennedy stared slack-jawed. “Who are you?”

  Quinn sighed. “You know who I am, Ken. You know I have unnatural wants and desires and how they have plagued me my whole life. I do not wish to die alone because I love other woman.

  “Oh, Quinn, you’ve been playing pirate for so long, you actually believe you can continue this life. Is that why you came home? So I can remind you of who you are? Remind you that you are not what you appear to be?”