Grace rubbed her chin. “I can agree ta yer terms on one condition.”
The room seemed to inhale and hold its collective breath. Quinn felt as if her own heart had stopped beating.
Mary appeared unfazed. “And that is?”
“Ya allow me ta bring Callaghan back with me.”
An odd look crossed Mary’s face. “You would bargain with the queen of Scotland for the life of one dishonest woman pretending to be a man?”
Quinn thought she was going to faint. Mary of Scotland had just peeled back the mask Quinn had been wearing to reveal the far greater lie.
Turning in disgrace, Quinn locked her gaze onto Grace, who did not return the look.
Instead, Grace shook her head. “I would bargain with the Queen a’ Scotland fer the life a’ enna Irishman. It matters not her sex nor that she lied ta protect the rest a’ my men. Callaghan risked his... her life in her charade. That means a great deal ta me. So, yes.”
“Fascinating. I’ll have to think upon it.” Mary returned to her seat and waved everyone away. “Leave us. All of you.”
“Your Majesty––” one of the guards said.
“She is not here to harm me. The rest of you be gone. Captain O’Malley can wait outside while I decide how I wish to proceed.”
When the reluctant guards escorted Grace out and the room that now contained only Mary and Quinn, the queen turned to her and stared at Quinn for several heartbeats. “Do you have any idea why you are still alive?”
Quinn shook her head. “I do not.”
“The risk you took to impersonate a pirate captain in order to save your crew is worthy of my respect... my respect and, if I may be so bold as to submit, my admiration as well.” Mary poured them both some more wine.
Quinn could barely stop her hand from shaking as she reached out for the goblet. She wasn’t sure who she was most afraid of at this moment––the Irish queen or the Scottish one.
Mary looked at Quinn’s trembling hand. “It is not easy being a strong female leader in times like these. There are so few we can trust, so few who truly understand the heavy nature of the mantle a female monarch wears. To be a woman with freedom... with choices... I envy you, Callaghan. I truly do. To be unbound by the confines of society must be invigorating. Tell me why. Tell me what would drive a woman to do what you have done.”
“Truth be told... I was a noblewoman in Ireland, Your Majesty, and I was slowly dying of boredom and ennui. My life was stagnate and stale while my brother’s life seemed filled with energy and excitement. I longed for that. I had no way of achieving it. Then a friend of mine, a childhood friend, was abducted by pirates, and so I made good on our pact that should anything ever befall one of us, the other would seek her out. I am dressed thusly as a way to fulfill that promise.”
Mary leaned forward, her eyes drilling into Quinn’s. “You are a fascinating person, Callaghan. To take such risks because of a childhood pledge? You are either the most loyal person in the realm or perhaps the most insane.”
Quinn held her gaze. “Perhaps a little of both?”
Mary smiled. “Grace O’Malley trusts you. She could have left you to me to do as I wish, but she did not do so. She was willing to risk my wrath by bartering with me for your life. Bartering with the Queen of Scotland, no less. You Irish are not at all what I have experienced or read about.”
“Like you, Your Highness, we are merely trying to keep our way of life out of Elizabeth’s hands.”
“True, but there is more to it than that. The very fact that Grace was willing to anger a monarch tells me you are a person of worth, of value, and even the Queen of Scotland needs to surround herself with people such as you and your queen.”
“I do so apologize for––”
Mary waved Quinn’s words away. “Never apologize. Explain, yes, but apologize, never. In order to get an audience with Caesar, Cleopatra stuffed herself into a rolled up rug that was being delivered as a present. Do you think she apologized?” The queen leaned forward. “You risked your life for your people, and that makes you a rare woman, indeed. Grace O’Malley knows your worth, lass, and therefore, so do I. So do I.”
Quinn heaved a loud sigh. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I have to admit, I never thought the pirate life was for me, but I have come to love and respect the men I sail with. I would never stand by if I could find a way to help them.”
“No, Callaghan, thank you. I have so many around me telling me what they think I want to hear. It was very nice having an honest discourse, even if you were dishonestly attired.”
A slight blush crept up Quinn’s cheek. “To pass myself off––”
“As a man, lass,” the queen said. “As a man. Well, I’ll have to just say it––Captain O’Malley seemed quite taken aback when she saw you. She did not know you were a female, did she? That much was obvious. Truth be told, you have more to worry about with her than you do with me, don’t you?” She leaned forward even more. “So tell me... what’s it like, being a man in a man’s world?”
So Quinn told her. She regaled the queen with the best of her stories, with tales of fighting and pirating. She told of the first time she fought and pushed a man overboard because she didn’t have it in her to kill him. She told the queen how much fun it was to play cards, to drink, to walk about without fear of being bothered by men. Quinn had the queen laughing and leaning forward enrapt.
And when, at last, the queen realized the time had gotten away from them, she rang a small bell.
“You, my dear, are a breath of fresh air, and I hope we meet again someday so we can go riding and so I can show you my prize falcons.”
“I’d like that, Your Majesty, very much.”
“Now, my Mary, the one who spoke for you, will take you to her chambers to return you to the man’s world from which you came.”
“But––”
“No one but Grace and I need to know your secret. Rest assured. The soldiers I send with you will not be from Dumbarton, so your identity is as safe as Grace O’Malley’s word is.”
Quinn nodded just as Mary-in-waiting entered the room.
“I need you to help Callaghan here return to her ship as a man, and I require that you never speak of it again. My displeasure would run deeply should I ever hear of it.” She leveled her gaze. “Ever. Understand?”
Mary-in-waiting nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And Callaghan, that English pirate, the one called Drake––is he as dangerous as Grace believes him to be? Has my cousin stooped so low as to allow her dog to sharpen its own teeth?”
Quinn nodded. “If left unchecked, yes, I believe so. He appears to play by his own rules, and he has the backing of the queen of England.
“Then be sure to check him. For me.” The queen stepped closer. “Heed my call, Callaghan. If ever I need you, ever, and I send for you... ”
“I shall drop what I am doing and come.”
Mary flashed Quinn a sincere smile. “Precisely.”
Quinn bowed as she backed away from Mary, Queen of Scotland, and followed Mary-in-waiting into the next room.
“I don’t know what spell you cast on my queen, but I am glad you’re still alive.”
Quinn peeked out the door to see the queen staring out into space. “No spell. Just good conversation. She has a kind heart, that one. What an amazing woman.”
Mary followed her gaze. “Falling in love with a queen is well above your station.”
Turning to her, Quinn took Mary’s hands in hers and kissed the backs of them. “Yes, if that were true, you’d be correct. And what about a lady-in-waiting? Would she be beneath me as well?”
Mary blushed and pulled her hands away. “I’d like to be beneath you,” she said, her neck beet red. “Do those sweet talking lips do more than flatter a girl?”
Quinn smiled a grin that quickly slid off her face.
Fiona.
All she could see in her heart was Fiona. To have a woman love her, truly love her as a woman was a dream Q
uinn could never let herself think about. Would Fiona turn away from her if she knew? Would this young woman?
“Before I leave, would you like to find out?”
***
Captain O’Malley was waiting for Quinn at the gate of the castle with four guards who were chatting amiably amongst themselves as the captain gazed out over the rocks. The winds had kicked up a bit, and the typical Scottish climate was grey and misty.
When Quinn walked up to her fiery redheaded captain, she had no idea what to expect, but she didn’t expect it to be good. Her heart was slowly breaking at the thought that this might be the end of the road for her as a pirate.
“Yer full a’ surprises, Callaghan,” Grace said, her booted foot on a pillar as she leaned her elbow on her thigh. “And I pride myself on not experiencin’ many a’ those, so I’m a wee bit peeved that ya pulled one over on me such as ya did fer such a long time.”
Quinn started to apologize, then remembered Mary’s words. “Would you have let me sail if I had come to you as a woman?”
“Of course not. Men do not like sailin’ with women on board. I am not a woman on the Malendroke. I am their captain. I am yer captain, but even though ya are a good fighter, the men would never trust ya again if they knew ya lied ta them.”
Quinn shrugged. “Well then, there you go. And if I can’t be on your ship, I’ll find another, but I won’t stop looking for Shea.”
“Bollocks, ya will. I may not be too happy with yer deception, but what ya did ta save my crew was brilliant, if not altogether crazy. I may not appreciate yer ruse, but I can most assuredly be grateful fer whatever it was ya did ta win over the Scottish queen. She seemed quite taken with ya.”
“She appreciated my conversation.”
“The conversation of a woman?”
Quinn was suddenly very tired of lying to the captain and decided she was done with it. “The conversation of a noblewoman.”
Grace’s eyebrows shot up. “Truly?” Then she waved it off. “Of course. Ya speak so much better than ya ought.”
“Aye. There are moments where I have slipped up.” Quinn realized that she had completely forgone her pirate’s way of speaking for the last few hours, but she was too far-gone at this point. She shrugged it off—at least she wouldn't have to worry any longer about revealing her manner of speech in front of Grace.
“So, what about the women ya––” She stopped once more. “Never mind. I need not know. Ya are certainly free ta do as ya please.”
“A woman trapped by means is not a free woman. I’ve tasted freedom as a man, and I do not intend to go back to the cage of a woman.”
“I can understand why. There is nothin’ worse than being treated like a woman. Nothin’. The day I took over the ship was the first day a’ me life, so I understand what yer feelin’, Callaghan. Truly, I do.”
“Then you’ll allow me back on the ship?”
“Of course. Ya will continue with yer charade. The crew knows nothin’ about what transpired in the castle, and we shall let it remain so. Ya are a valued member a’ the Malendroke, and the men trust ya. So do I. Without trust, a ship and her crew are vulnerable. Even though ya lied ta me, I understand why, and I still trust ya, Callaghan. Yer an excellent fighter, and ya risked yer own life ta save the men. We shall not speak a’ this again. As far as we are both concerned, yer a man on my ship. If it ever comes ta light ya are a woman, I never knew. Understood?”
Quinn nodded, relief flooding her. “Aye. Thank you, Captain. I swear I’ll never lie to you again.”
“Good. Because ya do, and I’ll have ya tossed overboard.”
As they walked down the pier, Grace said over her shoulder, “Whatever did ya say ta Mary ta make her act so kindly ta ya?”
“I speak her language.”
“Scots?”
Quinn smiled. “Sport.”
“Sport?” Grace tossed her head back and laughed. “All I can say is I am glad ya are on our side, regardless a’ what ya call yerself. Yer fine in my book, Callaghan. Man or woman, yer a keeper.”
***
She is far more beautiful than what the songs and poems say about her. Her beauty isn’t just her physical appearance but in the way she carries herself, her regal bearing, the way she tilts her head––there is so much about her comportment that allows her exquisiteness to brighten a room.
The conversations we had made me yearn for home, for Kennedy, for the heart-to-hearts we used to share. Mary is fascinating, accomplished in many ways. I swore a sort of allegiance to her. I am not sure what that means, but I do know I hold her in high esteem, and if the day comes when she needs me or Grace, we must heed that call.
As for the other Mary, the lady-in-waiting, she was flirtatious with me in a very brazen and open way that gave me hope that I am not just some anomaly.
I am not alone in my strange feelings for other women.
I have to admit I am somewhat surprised to find another woman who feels the same way I do. I would have liked to have spoken more with her, to have engaged more closely with her, but just as we began to enjoy a physical appreciation of each other’s bodies, we were interrupted by one of the other Marys who insisted she was needed elsewhere. Mary helped me back into my leather strap and jerkin, all the while letting her hands linger over my body.
I cannot say I hated it.
Quite the contrary.
Mary-in-waiting is a striking young woman, but in an odd way she belongs to the Queen of Scotland, and it would be bad business to lure her away.
Even if I wanted to.
But we know where my loyalty truly lies, and though I try to push Fiona from my heart, she will not go willingly or easily. The women in my life are as stubborn as they are amazing.
As we stood in her quarters, I also realized something else: Grace O’Malley is lonely. Not lonely in the sense of lacking a lover; no, she is lonely for female friendship... as is the Queen of Scotland. In a strange way, they are both standing at the top of a mountain with no one near them to keep them company. They both long for the kind of connection that Kennedy and I have. The kind Shea and I have.
And I appear to be that one which they both have turned to for said friendship. I am quite stunned by the sheer isolation women of higher standing experience. Even Fiona is alone in the big castle, with no one around to gossip with or share thoughts and ideas. Fiona, Grace, and Mary are all lonely women yearning for something unreachable, whereas Becca is a lowly serving wench who is surrounded by men and women alike with which to communicate.
It is all so very odd.
Grace worries that Elizabeth will continue to come after Ireland, that she will “litter the seas” with sailors like Drake and continue with her transplanting of English lords and nobles upon our land.
Grace hates the man named Drake.
Oh, the venom she spits when she says that man’s name. She said to me, “Callaghan, we all know I have a gift for seeing tempests coming our way, and that rat bastard is one, no doubt about it. Mark my words. He is a dog that needs to be put down before he can bite.”
So, here he is... marked.
I would never bet against the likes of Captain Grace O’Malley.
Not now. Not ever.
She did ask me one curious question, however. She wanted to know if my “sexual conquests,” as she put it, were real or put on for the crew’s sake.
I found that disconcerting. Not the question... but my answer.
Was I as big a pig for women as the men surrounding me because I yearned, as they did, for the softness of their flesh and the tenderness of their kisses?
In truth, I am... though not for the conquest of it. Why wouldn’t one want the gentleness of a woman in bed with them? Why wouldn’t anyone choose to be held in the arms of a woman at night? It would seem that I have as voracious an appetite for women as the men do, and Grace was fascinated by that. She was also fascinated by my consternation at the question.
The odder question is: Why on earth would
any woman choose the rough, groping, and calloused hands of a man over the smooth, soft touch of a woman?
So I told her as much.
She cocked her head this way and that, as if trying to figure out whether or not I was telling the truth.
At long last, she laughed heartily, saying she completely understood and was glad I was sincere in my affections toward the women I bedded and not just some quick sexual adventurer.
In the end, she left me with a thought. She said, “Callaghan, at the end of the day, if ya can look at yer face in the mirror without disgust, then it was a good day.”
I certainly hope I have higher aspirations than that. I suppose only time will tell.
***
Once Queen Mary’s two-dozen Scottish soldiers were on board, Grace briefed the crew about her plans and the manner in which they were to treat the soldiers.
“We’re carryin’ a bit a’ dead weight, lads,” she said, her hawk eyes scanning her crew. “I know at least a half dozen a’ ya who have not drawn as much as a drop a’ blood durin’ our last engagements. I’ll be comin’ round ta each a’ ya ta let ya know ya will be leavin’ us when we reach Clare Island.”
“We’re goin’ home?” Fitz asked.
Grace nodded. “For three days. I want the hull inspected, the ship cleared and cleaned, and those who thought the piratin’ life easy or fun ta leave without disgrace.”
“And after that?”
Captain O’Malley aimed her gaze at Innis. “After that, we get back ta what we do best: we collect taxes and goods as we see fit, and we find that bastard Drake and wring the rest a’ the coin from his neck. We canna do so till the ship is primed and ready fer war, because we’re going ta war against the English ships, and ennaone gettin’ in our way will be sent ta the bottom a’ the sea.”
The men cheered and hollered, and she waited for them to quiet some before continuing.
“The main mast needs complete replacement. That bloody hurricane nearly tore it off the deck. Ya have two days on shore while we ready the ship, but before enna a’ ya return, ya need ta hear this.” Grace ran her hand through her thick mane to get it out of her face. “I have pledged my considerable fightin’ skills ta the Scottish queen in order ta create an alliance against the English. Mary Stuart fears fer her country much like we fear fer ours. From here on out, when we come across an English ship, we will fire on a high-sittin’ ship and plunder a low-sittin’ one before sinkin’ it as well.”
The Pirate's Booty (The Plundered Chronicles Book 1) Page 16
