Shiver Her Timbers (The Plundered Chronicles Book 2)

by Alex Westmore

  This had all the markings of that damned governor—or worse, Queen Elizabeth. Quinn feared the freedoms the Gaelic world held were quickly slipping away as Elizabeth pressed forward with her cabinet’s notion of colonizing her beloved Ireland, and the best way to do that was to pit clan against clan.

  The best way to keep Grace O’Malley off the seas was to take something from her, and they had.

  Why else would the MacMahons incur the wrath of a notorious pirate who feared no man, no law, no monarch? Why would they have gone after her man and not after her? Were they trying to provoke her to start something? Trying to goad her into making the wrong decision or going down the wrong path?

  There had to be a reason for Hugh’s death, and Quinn vowed to do all she could to unearth the truth before Grace O’Malley started the bloodletting of her own people––something no one ever thought she would do, yet here she was, going after the MacMahons.

  When Quinn rode up to the castle, she immediately inquired if the master was home.

  He was not.

  The guards let her in, and before she knew it, she was in Fiona’s arms. “I am here, my love.”

  Fiona nodded, still holding Quinn to her. “For how long?”

  Quinn pulled away. “Not long. Grace’s man was killed. Murdered. She––” Quinn locked eyes with Fiona. “She wants blood. Lots of it. I may be the only one who can keep her from going on some murderous rampage, but I had to come see you.”

  “That is awful. Poor Grace. She must be devastated. I... I cannot imagine how I would react if anything were to happen to you.”

  Quinn inhaled, the truth of their journey together on the tip of her tongue. “You needn’t worry so much, my love. I am a pirate and death is just part of the life.”

  “Do not say as much, my love. It breaks my heart.”

  “I am afraid his death has broken hers. She was smitten with the young lad in a way I have never seen. Her grief may drive her to do things that would be unadvisable at this moment. I wish I could stay, but I just came to see you before we go after the men who killed him.”

  “You are going after other Irishmen? I thought Grace was against such an act.”

  “She is, but she is heartbroken and believes this might be politically motivated. New rules are afoot.”

  Fiona laid her palm on Quinn’s cheek “There’s not much you wouldn’t do for her, is there?”

  “Not anything, no. I’m a little afraid for her. She was in love with that boy. I... I can only imagine what it must feel like to have a lover ripped away like that.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

  Fiona inhaled deeply. “Loving a pirate is not easy.”

  Quinn glanced away. “I don’t imagine it is. But how would you feel about loving this pirate right here and now?”

  Crawling on all fours across the bed, Quinn kissed Fiona long and deep, her hands roaming all over Fiona’s body, through her hair, across her huge breasts, until finally resting between her open thighs.

  “God, how I have missed you,” Fiona murmured as Quinn kissed her neck, her shoulders, and her upper chest before sucking on her nipples.

  Looking up, Quinn smiled slightly, her fingers delicately stroking Fiona’s engorged clit. “Was it me you missed, or this?”

  Fiona gasped as Quinn entered her. “Both?”

  The answer made Quinn chuckle as she went on to please Fiona three times before laying her head on Fiona’s chest, spent, weary, but quite at home.

  “You should teach men how you do what you do,” Fiona whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around Quinn. “Men from all over would pay handsomely to do to women what you do, and women would be forever grateful.”

  “It doesn’t work as well as you’d hope. Men do not understand a woman’s body. Not at all. We might as well be sheep for all they care.” Quinn felt her eyelids get heavy.

  Running her fingers through Quinn’s hair, Fiona kissed the top of her head. “I am blessed to have you for a lover, Callaghan. Forgive me when I wish it was more than that.”

  “More?” Quinn’s voice was deep and tainted with exhaustion. “I wish that were so as well, but I am afraid...”

  “Yes, my love. More. I cannot help but wish, at times of great weakness, that I was married to you.”

  “Married...” Quinn’s foggy mind, clouded by encroaching sleep, grasped only a few of Fiona’s words as Robert’s warnings overtook them. “Marriage,” she muttered again, half asleep. “There’s... that...”

  And before she could finish, she was fast asleep.

  * * *

  “Engaged to be wed? Have you completely lost your head?” Fiona marched back and forth in the clearing outside the castle walls. Her cheeks were flushed and the veins on her neck protruded. “Married to a woman? And a Scotswoman no less?”

  “Fiona, please calm down.”

  “Calm down? Callaghan, you come and go as you please. I tolerate your other mistress because not to do so would make me a hypocrite. I suspect you bed many other women from port to port, yet I wait patiently for you to come home, to my bed, to me... only to hear you have allowed those two bitch queens to use you as a pawn in their political schemes? And you allowed that?” Fiona stopped her pacing. “Is there anything Grace O’Malley could ask of you that you’d have the guts to say no to?”

  “That’s not fair, Fio––”

  “Fair?” Fiona fairly spat the word out and continued her pacing. “Don’t talk to me about fair, Quinn Gallagher. Sharing you with Becca is one thing. Sharing you with whores in foreign ports is one thing. But if you think I am going to tolerate you marrying another woman? Then you do not know me at all. At. All.”

  Quinn stared, speechless.

  Fiona flicked her long hair over her shoulder. “I see by that look on your face that you are, in fact, surprised by my reaction to this news.” Fiona shook her head. “There are times when you are more like a man than a real man could ever be.”

  Quinn shook her head and spread her hands out. “It is not a real marriage. I have a pl––”

  “Did you or did you not propose to this poor girl?”

  Quinn bowed her head. “Well, not really. You see, we had to discuss it and––”

  “Of course you did. You did because Grace O’Malley asked you to. You did because the only woman you are completely committed to is that captain of yours. There are times, my love, when I wonder if you aren’t in love with her.”

  Quinn’s head jerked up. “Now hold on there. You know I am not in love with Grace. She is my captain and my friend and yes, there is little I wouldn’t do for her if she asked me and even more I would do for her if she didn’t. My loyalty is with her and Ireland.”

  “And this strumpet lady-in-waiting you are bedding.” Fiona rounded the corner of the rose garden. “And do not tell me you haven’t, because I know you did. How else did this ridiculous idea come up if that door hadn’t been open in the first place?”

  Quinn shook her head. “You make it sound as if this was some sort of parlor dalliance. It is not. We’re talking about the life of a queen. A woman––”

  “Who is not your queen. A woman who is not your lover. We are talking about Grace O’Malley and Mary of Scotland using you to hide their agenda. And you fell for it. You knowingly walked into the lion’s den while they held open the door.”

  “They are not using me.”

  “Of course they are! You’re too blinded by loyalty to see it.”

  Quinn felt her anger boiling. “Perhaps you do not fully appreciate the danger Mary is in.”

  Fiona shook her head, her eyes ablaze in anger. “Nor do I care. I just wish you didn’t as well. She is not our queen, Callaghan. She is not any of our business.”

  Quinn tugged at a pink rose. “If Scotland falls to Elizabeth, we are next. Our way of life is already in danger, so in a very big way, it is our business!”

  “You say that because it gives you a reason to carry on with this... this... Scotswoman.”


  “I am not carrying on with her. I am merely trying to help a queen who may very well stand between us and that madwoman Elizabeth. I don’t know about you, Fiona, but I am not interested in being an English subject.”

  “And what’s so awful about that? England is powerful, rich––”

  Quinn started backing away. “My god, he’s gotten to you, hasn’t he? He’s filled your head with all of this England is a great place to live talk, hasn’t he?”

  “Who? Robert?”

  “Yes, Robert.”

  “Robert is a man of the world, Callaghan, and yes, he believes that Ireland might be better protected under Elizabeth’s reign, but he is not trying to convince me about England.”

  Quinn held her hand up. “Say no more, Fiona. If you cannot see the very real threat of Elizabeth’s England, then we must agree to disagree, and you can just continue to follow your husband and his disloyal self to sniff the skirts of the queen of England, because that is exactly what is happening.” Quinn knew exactly where she was heading with this, and it was with a heavy heart that she let her words fly like daggers from her mouth.

  “So you choosing to hide behind another monarch’s petticoats is one thing, but when my husband sides with Elizabeth’s riches and military might, I’m some sort of untrustworthy Irish woman?”

  “That comment is unworthy of us both.” Turning, Quinn started for the barn. “I cannot stay and talk in circles, Fiona. You have made it very clear that you choose your husband and England over me and Ireland. Perhaps it is time we both examined just what that means to us both.”

  Fiona followed her to the barn. “That’s where you’re wrong, Callaghan. The choice isn’t about England or Ireland or you and Robert. Someday, when you have to choose between me or Grace, the wrong decision is going to cost you.”

  Whirling around, Quinn stared hard into Fiona’s face. “It would appear it already has.”

  * * *

  The entire ride back had me regretting my final words to her. She was both right and wrong. I hadn’t seen my faux proposal as disloyal to a married woman. Truth to tell, I still don’t. Had Fiona been willing to hear me out, she would have learned that it was all a ruse just to keep the tongues wagging and the Scottish people from wondering why an Irish pirate continued landing at the dock. As it was, we both said things we might wish we hadn’t said.

  So as I rode back from Blackrock Castle, I knew there was one woman who could help me make sense of it all. I rode straightaway to the tavern where Becca worked.

  As always, she was so happy to see me. Her face lit up and she peppered me with a hundred kisses. She did not chastise me for not coming directly to her. She knew where I would go first, and yet there she was, just happy and joyful to be with me again.

  She deserves so much better than me.

  I can see that now. All along, this tavern wench had always felt she was somehow beneath me, but the truth was, I am not good enough for her.

  Maybe I never was.

  Still, she knows me well enough to see I was troubled, so we sat beneath a tree while I told her of my argument with Fiona.

  For her part, she listened silently until I was done. When I finished, she kissed both my hands before laying her palm on my cheek.

  “Oh Callaghan, I wish I could lie to you and say something that would make you feel better or be supportive, but I can’t. She’s right about you often being like a man. Any woman can see what is happening here, but you seem to want to focus on this having to do with loyalty to Grace and Ireland and no woman will find that loyalty to another woman, even one as great as Grace, an admirable quality.”

  I stared blankly at her. Had I been pretending to be a man for so long that I no longer thought like a woman? “Why not?”

  Becca chuckled. “We are jealous creatures who wish to come first in all things. In all things, my love. Fiona is jealous of Grace’s connection to you. She knows she comes second to that and we do not fare very well coming in second.”

  I blinked. “Jealous? Of Grace?”

  Becca leaned closer, her fingers stroking my hair. “Yes, of Grace. Don’t you see? Fiona wants what we all want: for you to choose us over your blind allegiance to your captain.”

  I started to rise. “My blind all––”

  “Sweetheart, it’s true. I happen to find your loyalty to her sexy and alluring. Fiona obviously does not share my opinion. No woman wants to play second fiddle to another, yet we all do. Grace O’Malley and the crew of the Malendroke are, by necessity, your first concern. I understand that because of who I am. I live in it. Fiona does not. She wants, just once, for you to put her first.”

  “Over Grace?”

  Becca nodded. “Over Grace.”

  “Even though she must put the needs of her husband and family first?”

  “Aye, my love. And it is why the two of you must be done before you do something that causes Robert to remove her to England.”

  Becca has always been my North Star in matters of the heart, and at that moment I realized that to continue seeing Fiona would only mean to change the course of her life and send her to live in England—and that, I could not do. Gallagher is an Irish lass. She ought to be raised in Ireland.

  And there you have it.

  The first and only real thing that made all of this easier for me.

  Now I have a crisis to avert.

  * * *

  “How is she?” Quinn asked Innis when she arrived back at Clare Island, worn, dirty, tired.

  “Sharpenin’ blades, barkin’ orders. She plans on huntin’ the MacMahons down, and she cares not who stands in her way. She’s not said a civil word to ennaone since ya left.”

  One Eye spat and nodded. “We was hopin’ ya’d be able to talk some sense into her. She won’t listen to a soul.”

  Quinn studied both men. They seemed tired. Weary. “What are ya about, fellas? Ya seem a bit off. Ya haven’t been at the taverns, have ya?”

  “Are ya kiddin’? We’ve been preparin’ fer her war. Ya gotta do somethin’, Callaghan.”

  “I might have just the thing.”

  “Truly?”

  “Aye. If Grace openly goes after them, she will set the wheels in motion that could verra well run over the rest of us.”

  “She won’t give a damn, either.”

  Quinn shook her head. “Maybe not, but trust me... if there’s ennathin’ she enjoys, it’s a well-laid plan.”

  One Eye grabbed Quinn’s arm. “We hope ya got one of them plans, Callaghan. Otherwise, she’s puttin’ targets on all our backsides.”

  Quinn started toward Grace’s chamber, but was met halfway by Tavish.

  “Laddie. Good to see ya before I go.”

  Quinn stepped back. “Is there any chance you can wait on that, my friend? Grace can help you with a ship and collecting your mercenary Highlanders easier and faster than you can shake a sword at.”

  Tavish rubbed his red beard. “Aye. I suppose she could... if she wasna out of her head with revenge. She is not thinkin’, lad. Not at all.”

  “Let me talk to her. Let’s see if maybe we can turn this tragedy into a triumph.”

  “If ya can do that, yer not a pirate––yer a magician.”

  Knocking on the door, Quinn waited. She felt her heart race beneath her chest. With sweaty palms, she waited for Grace to open the door.

  She didn’t.

  Instead, she flung it wide open and filled the doorway with her wild mane of red hair, her green eyes aflame with a combination of anger and wildness. Even Grace’s face seemed misshapen as she stood glaring. It took her a moment to recognize Quinn.

  “Callaghan, where the hell have ya been?” She waved the question away. “No matter, yer here now. Tomorrow, we go MacMahon huntin’. I am gonna kill everra last bastard. I’ll not stop until the sea turns red with MacMahon blood and I leave their legacy with nothin’. Nothin’.”

  Quinn frowned. “Sir, about that––”

  “The last crew member
who tried to talk me out of it left holdin’ a bloody nose. Care to join him?”

  Quinn inhaled deeply. “May I come in?”

  “Aye, but mind yer tongue, Callaghan. I’ll not entertain enna more conversations about lettin’ the MacMahons go. Not now. Not ever.”

  Quinn sat down at the small table and motioned for Grace to sit as well.

  Snapping her fingers, Grace nodded. “Now I remember where ya went off to. Yer back too soon, Callaghan. Is everrathin’ all right with the babe?”

  “Aye. She is fine.”

  Grace waited.

  “Fiona is...”

  “Out with it, man. Is she well?”

  “She is. We argued about the marriage proposal.”

  Grace fairly leapt from her seat. “Are ya daft? Why on earth did ya tell her? She would never have been the wiser.”

  “Deceit is no longer part of our relationship, sir.”

  Grace tossed her head back and laughed. “That’s rich, Callaghan. Her husband is bein’ deceived thinkin’ yer simply a noble female. Ya started out lyin’ to her about who ya were. She also does not know how deeply ya truly care fer Becca, and she is unaware of yer other dalliances, namely the nights ya spent with Sayyida. So please, spare me the lack-of-deceit-in-yer-relationship speech. Ya told her, and now ya cannot take those words back. She threw ya out.”

  Quinn studied her folded hands and slowly shook her head. “She didn’t need to. I left before it got any worse. Besides, she’s not the problem.”

  Grace listened intently and waited for Quinn to finish. “Robert is an Englishman after all, Callaghan. Ya had to know there would come a time when he’d have to decide which side he was leanin’ toward.” She leaned closer. “Relationships end, Callaghan. Yers has ended. While it is sad fer ya, ya had to know there was never goin’ to be a happy endin’ fer ya. And now, with Deputy Sidney chargin’ around Ireland makin’ problems fer us all, Robert cannot side with the country in which he lives. Like the rest of the titled masses, he supports Elizabeth.