With her free hand, Quinn felt Fiona’s forehead. She was burning up with fever. “How are you feeling?”
“Like death is coming for me. I was so afraid you wouldn’t get here in time.”
Quinn cocked her head. “In time? In time for what?”
Fiona licked her lips and motioned for the goblet of water on the end table.
Quinn held Fiona’s head while holding the goblet to her lips.
“I am always thirsty.”
“Are you eating?”
“No, but thank you for getting my stubborn daughter to the kitchen. I swear, my love, she is more like you than anyone else.”
Quinn forced a slight grin. Fiona smelled of disease and decay. “She has grown twofold since I last saw her.”
“She loves those leggings you sent. Robert disdains them, which makes her love them all the more.”
“She does sound like me.”
Fiona nodded. “More than you could possibly know, and more and more every day.” Fiona lightly stroked Quinn’s cheek. “I have missed you these years like a weed misses the sun.”
Quinn took Fiona’s hand and kissed her palm, like she’d done a thousand times before.
“How many are there?”
Quinn titled her head. “How many?”
“Women. How many are keeping you warm at night?”
Faces floated past her mind’s eye. Becca, Sayyida, Evan, Young Mary, and various earlier second conquests in distant ports. “In truth, none.”
“I am not surprised. You always want more than we can give. I hear you left Grace and took most of her crew with you.”
Quinn nodded and set the water chalice back on the stand. “True. Long story not worth hearing right now.”
“Then it’s true. You have no women in your life. How very lost you must be.”
Quinn stared down into Fiona’s eyes. She still knew Quinn better than anyone. “Perhaps, but I managed to find my way back to you, did I not?”
“And not a moment too soon. I’m dying, my love. Nothing the doctors have tried has worked.”
“Because they ask the wrong questions,” came a voice from the doorway.
Quinn’s head whipped around at the familiar voice.
“Bronwen?”
Standing at the door in a long, flowing robe that seemed to move even in the absence of wind, was her childhood friend and druid priestess, Bronwen.
“Your captain friend sent word through the other priestesses that your lover was ill. I came as soon as I heard you had docked.”
Quinn leaped off the bed. “Fiona, this is––”
“Bronwen. Yes. I’ve heard a great deal about you. Please. Come in.”
Bronwen entered the room and paused to sniffed the air. Then she glanced around the room before laying her hands on Fiona’s belly. “May I?”
“Please.”
Bronwen bent over and smelled Fiona’s mouth before feeling her neck, inner thigh, and abdomen.
“You lost your child, aye?”
Fiona nodded, tears coming to her eyes once more.
“Have your limbs ached?”
Fiona ached.
“And your child died still.”
Fiona nodded.
These questions went back and forth, until Bronwen finally stopped and nodded. “It is my thought you have the French pox. Advancing rapidly. It is that which took your infant.”
Fiona nodded.
Quinn held up her hands. “Wait. Wait. Are you saying––”
“Her husband most likely gave this to her. Where he caught it is irrelevant. It killed the baby. It is, in fact, killing Fiona.”
“Can you . . . ”
Bronwen shook her head. “She is in a very advanced stage of the disease and is firmly in its grasp. There is little to do but make her comfortable.”
Quinn felt her knees go weak. Bronwen was to her immediately and helped her to the chair.
“Be strong, Quinn. This shall get worse before it gets better.”
“Better?”
“Aye. Death is the only reprieve from what she will face.”
Fiona struggled to sit up. “Surely, you can give me something Bronwen. I do not wish to languish, to lose my mind, or to be a yoke around everyone’s neck.”
“Absolutely not,” Quinn barked.
Bronwen placed her hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “It is not your place to have an opinion, my friend. The decision is entirely up to Fiona. Death with dignity is a comfort we can offer her. She will not live through the worst of this.”
Fiona grabbed Quinn’s hand and squeezed it. “Please do not fight me on this. I have struggled this last week in the hopes of seeing you before I die, and here you are.”
“Are you in much pain?”
A tear rolled down Fiona’s cheek. “More than you know.”
Quinn blinked back her own tears before nodding to Bronwen. “Do it.”
Bronwen bowed her head once as she pulled a small vial from one of her leather pouches. “This will take less than an hour, so you must be absolutely certain.”
Fiona nodded. “I am. It is time. I do not want my daughter to see me being a raving madwoman.” Squeezing Quinn’s hand, Fiona smiled slightly. “I could do it for you, my dearest love. No woman wishes to leave this life thrashing about and reeking of disease. Please give me this.”
Quinn dropped to one knee beside to bed, her heart heavy, her tears falling freely. She did not want to give Fiona what she wanted, what she begged for.
But she had no choice. She had no choice because Quinn believed Fiona would never allow her to suffer.
“I cannot make this decision for you, Fi. It would haunt me till the end of my days. If you need to end your life, then you are going to have to do so yourself.”
Fiona closed her eyes and two more tears slid out the corners. “It is for the best. Gallagher would never recover watching me waste away. I cannot do that to her, Callaghan.”
Quinn held Fiona’s hand in between hers. “Whatever you need to do, my love, I will stand by you.”
Fiona sat up. “Will you? Do you swear?”
Quinn nodded. “I swear.”
They looked into each other’s eyes for a long while. When Bronwen placed her hand on Quinn’s shoulder, she broke the spell. “Come. Her daughter is coming. They’ll need a moment to say their goodbyes.”
“No,” Fiona said. “That . . . that would be too much. It will be better if we just do it now. She will recover. In time, she will be fine.”
Bronwen nodded slowly before handing the small vial to Quinn. “You won’t have much time once she takes this.”
Taking the vial in one hand Quinn squeezed Fiona’s hand tightly before letting it go. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Yes. I want your beautiful face to be the last thing I see.” Taking the vial from Quinn, Fiona held it up and looked at the liquid. “Thank you,” she said to Bronwen.
Bronwen bowed once. “Until we meet again.” Then she leaned over, whispered something to Quinn and then left the room.
“She’s a good friend,” Fiona said softly.
“She’s a great friend.” Quinn looked at the vial. “Are you sure?”
“Very much. I’ve had a great life. I’ve had a great love, and I leave behind me a great daughter . . . and I want you to be the one to raise her.”
Quinn blinked. “I’m sorry. What. Did. You. Say?”
Fiona downed the vial. “She’s everything to me, Callaghan, and I know you will make sure no harm comes to her.”
“No harm? No harm? I’m a pirate on the high seas, Fiona. Everything I do is dangerous. I—I can’t do it.”
Fiona caressed Quinn’s cheek. “You can. You must. Robert is . . . he has put us all in danger. He will let her go with you.”
Quinn rose. “Danger. How? What has he done?”
“There’s no time, my love. I am asking you on my death bed, begging you to take my daughter from a man who is in cahoots with the English.”
<
br /> “He is?” Quinn held her hand up. “I suppose it isn’t important right now, but Gallagher, well––”
“Will need you. I would never ask this of you, my love, if I did not fear for her. I don’t want her raised by an Englishwoman. I do not trust that Robert won’t send her to London for schooling.”
“Surely your father would never allow that?”
Fiona sighed loudly, her eyelids closing more slowly with every passing second. “My father is under Robert’s spell. Please, Callaghan, don’t make me beg. I know you love her. Love her enough to walk her way through life.” Fiona shuddered.
“Yes! Of course.”
“Swear it!”
“I swear.”
Fiona inhaled a deep breath. “Thank you. Now, before I leave you, I need you to know, I never stopped loving you. Not a day went by I did not miss you terribly or doubt that I was in the wrong place.”
“Fiona––”
“Let me finish. You can never know how very much I envy you for living life your own way. You look Fate in the face and dare her to follow your rules. Please show Gallagher how to live that way as well. Love her hard. Teach her everything . . . you know.”
Quinn leaned over Fiona’s face and kissed her forehead. Her heart broke into a million pieces. “I’ve helped queens, freed prisoners, and executed potential kings, but I can’t help the woman I love.”
“You do . . . love me . . . don’t you?”
Quinn kissed Fiona’s lips. They were cold to the touch. “Of course I do. I always have. I always will.”
Fiona closed her eyes and grinned softly. “I knew it. Thank . . . you.”
“I love you, Fiona. I promise to take good of Gallagher and teach her everything I know.” Quinn blinked rapidly, trying to clear the blur from her eyes.
“I love you, Quinn Callaghan. Thank you . . . for everything.”
Quinn stared into Fiona’s face and waited for more.
It never came.
Laying her head on Fiona’s still chest, Quinn sobbed. “No . . . don’t leave me . . . please.”
She had no idea how long she had laid there with her head on Fiona’s chest, so when Bronwen stepped back into the room and put her hands on Quinn’s shoulder, Quinn realized she had fallen asleep.
“Time to let go, Quinn,” Bronwen whispered. “She has gone to a place where there is no more pain or suffering.”
Quinn’s head slowly rose and she gazed into a face she had truly loved that would never again smile back at her. “How did this happen?”
Bronwen gently eased Quinn to a standing position. “You know the answer to that, my friend, and it happens to more women than anyone knows. Polite society simply doesn’t discuss it.”
Quinn wheeled toward the door, reaching for her sword as she did.
Bronwen held her hands up. “Unless your intent is to join her, that is a most unwise decision.”
Quinn lowered her sword slightly.
“After all, Robert did not do anything outside the marriage bed that Fiona did not do as well. Aye?”
The sword felt like a hundred pounds in her hand. Quinn let the tip drop to the ground.
“You must get control of your feelings, Quinn. As much as you hurt, as painful as this may be, there is a little girl who must now be told she is motherless. Your pain, your deep, deep sadness must wait until this dust settles.”
Slowly wiping her face with the back of her hand, Quinn sniffled and sheathed her sword. “What now?”
Bronwen placed her hand on the door. “Now, you must step aside and allow the family time to grieve. While they do that, you and Fitz should gather the girl’s things and be prepared to ride and ride hard.”
Quinn titled her head. “Did you overhear our conversation?”
Bronwen held her hand up to silence Quinn once more. “I am a druid, aye, but I am also a woman. Fiona stayed alive almost longer than her body would allow because she was waiting for you. Go now, and allow husband and child their moment with their beloved.” Bronwen opened the door.
Sitting on a bench in the hallway was Gallagher and Robert.
Their faces said they knew the moment they saw Quinn.
“No,” Gallagher said, racing past Quinn. “No, Mama, no.”
Robert sat immobile. Frozen.
“Go to her,” Quinn said firmly. “Say your goodbyes and help your daughter understand that her mother is gone.”
Robert gazed helplessly at Quinn. “I . . . I can’t. I do not . . . I do not know what to say.”
Quinn pushed her shoulders back, preparing to assault him with words that would cut him to the quick. Only Bronwen’s swift intervention prevented her from unleashing a torrent of curse words upon him.
“You will know what to say when you hold your wife’s hand and tell her goodbye, but it is your daughter who needs your words of comfort now.”
Quinn gritted her teeth and swallowed back the daggers she’d intended on firing at him.
Robert nodded and rose. Inside the chamber, Gallagher tried waking Fiona.
When he entered the room and closed the door, Bronwen pulled Fitz to Quinn. “Get three horses ready, Fitz. You, Quinn, and the girl are leaving here immediately. Be prepared to ride hard and fast.”
Fitz frowned. “What about Callaghan? I’m not leaving without her.”
Bronwen smiled. “My apologies. Her real name is Quinn.”
Fitz’s cheek turned pink. “Oh. Right. I knew that.”
“Go. There is no time to waste.”
Fitz locked eyes with Quinn and nodded once. “I’m so sorry, Callaghan.”
Quinn blinked back more tears. “We can get soused about it later, Fitz. Right now, Bronwen is right. We must make haste.”
“We’re taking the girl?”
Quinn quickly glanced over to Bronwen. “Aye, Fitz. We’re takin’ the girl.”
“I’ll be back as fast as I can go.”
When Fitz was gone, Bronwen and Quinn packed as many articles of clothing as they could along with a couple of dolls, a wooden sword Quinn had sent from Morocco, and everything that appeared to be something Fiona may have given her daughter.
“I’ll take this to the horse, Quinn. You do what you must to get the child . . . short of the killing the husband. Do not do anything foolish. Swear to it.”
“I swear; I’ll not do anything foolish.”
“Good. Be swift about it.”
When the door to Fiona’s chamber opened, Gallagher ran to Quinn and threw her arms around her neck, sobbing as she did. “Where’s Mama?”
Quinn hugged Gallagher tightly before pulling away. “She is in heaven, sweet girl.” Quinn pulled one of Grace’s lace handkerchiefs from her pocket and wiped Gallagher’s eyes.
“Are we leaving now?”
Quinn instantly caught Robert’s eyes.
He’d heard.
“No one is going anywhere,” he said, rising.
Gallagher stunned Quinn by turning to Robert and saying, “Mama said to go with Callaghan.”
Robert reached for a sword that wasn’t there.
But Quinn’s was, and she withdrew it. “My man made sure you were removed from your weapon. You have nothing. Actually, you are nothing. Chase us, and you’re a dead man. Come after her, and you’re a dead man. The only reason you are still alive is because you’re an Englishman with your dirty hands in a lot of pockets, but mark my words: I will slit your throat from ear to ear if I ever see you again.”
“You’re making an enemy out of a very powerful man, Callaghan.”
“You are a guest in this country, Robert, and when Ireland and England go to war—which we will—you will no longer be a guest, but an enemy. So you and your ‘power’ can go fuck yourself.”
“You won’t get five miles down the road before my men overtake you. I’ll get my daughter back, Callaghan. One way or the other.”
“No. You’ll be dead long before that happens.”
Bronwen whisked Gallagher into another ro
om. Once Gallagher was gone, Quinn stepped further toward Robert. “You understand that you killed her, aye?”
“I know no such thing,”
“I see. So, once again, you take no responsibility for your actions. You make me sick.”
“That’s laughable. A woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman so she can fuck my wife is what’s sick. You are a demon spawn, and when I get my daughter back, you will hang for what you’ve done.”
Quinn cocked her head. “I’ll hang for making Fiona happy?”
Robert grinned malevolently. “You’ll hang for killing her.”
Quinn was on him in two long strides. She bashed his nose in with the butt of her sword.
Robert went down on one knee, clasping his broken and bloody nose.
But Quinn wasn’t finished.
Bringing down the flat end of her blade, she smashed his head, splitting it open like a watermelon. Blood ran down his face as he crumpled to the floor.
“Come after her at your peril, you bastard,”
Bringing her boot back, she kicked him hard in the face, knocking him unconscious. “I swear to all the goddesses, I will kill you one day.”
“And I shall help.”
Quickly whirling around, Quinn came face to face with Lord Moynihan, Fiona’s father. “Sir?”
“You must go, Callaghan, and go quickly. Here.” Lord Moynihan handed Quinn a fat purse of coin. “This is for my granddaughter. Please. Take good care of her. While I cannot prevent Robert from coming for her, I can at least slow him down.”
Quinn reached for the bag slowly. “Are you . . . are you certain?”
“It is what she wanted, Callaghan, and given what is soon to transpire in this land, my granddaughter is safest with you. Now, you must get going. I will take care of my daughter and keep her husband at bay for as long as I can, but you must hurry. Get off the land as quickly as you can.”
Taking the purse, Quinn nodded. “Thank you.”
“No, Callaghan. Thank you. I never saw Fiona as happy as when she was with you. I know you’ll take good care of my granddaughter. She . . . she always spoke so highly of you and with such love in her eyes.”
“That is good to hear, sir. You have my word I will take care of her as if she were my own.”
Robert stirred slightly.
“You’d best get going, Callaghan.” He extended his hand and Quinn sheathed the sword to shake it. “Godspeed.”
Cutthroat Crusades (The Plundered Chronicles Book 4) Page 20
