Quinn did not have to look at Bronwen to know what the healer was thinking.
Bronwen stepped up to him. “You were the physician for Fiona when she died, is that correct?”
“Yes. Yes. I remember how kind you were to see to her before she died.”
Bronwen inhaled deeply through her nose. “Yes. Yes, I was. I might have saved her had we arrived sooner.”
The tightness in Bronwen’s voice made Quinn completely turn towards her now.
“I did everything I could to save her,” the physician said sadly.
“Did you?”
He looked up into Bronwen’s face. “I do not appreciate your accusatory tone. I loved that child like my own.”
Suddenly, and with such swiftness it stunned Quinn, Bronwen snatched Francis’ wrist and pulled his hand to her nose. “Just as I suspected.” She flung his hand away from her face before turning to Quinn. “Poison on his fingertips, Quinn. This man is the one responsible for feeding it to the Lord.”
Quinn started to pull her sword from its sheath just as Francis leapt to the side of the bed to hold a dagger to Lord Moynihan’s neck. “I’ll kill him. I swear to God, I’ll slit his throat!”
Quinn eased her sword back in the sheath and stepped in front of Bronwen. “Killing Lord Moynihan will mean your death as well, Francis. I’ll make sure of that.”
“My life is over any way, Callaghan, so I might as well take this one with me when I go.”
Lord Moynihan’s eyes opened wide upon seeing the knife at his throat and the wielder of it.
“C-Callaghan?”
“It is all right, Lord Moynihan. No further harm will come to you. I assure you of that.”
Blinking slowly, he licked his parched lips and seemed to forget the dagger at his throat. “So thirsty.”
Francis positioned himself behind the bed, the knife still at Lord Moynihan’s neck. “My employer will pay handsomely for your hide, Captain Callaghan. Here is what is going to happen. You are going to go get his granddaughter to this room, unharmed. Then you will surrender yourself to me or I’ll kill both the Lord and your Priestess.”
“Wouldn’t it be wiser to send her to get the girl and keep me here?”
“Quinn—”
Quinn waved Bronwen off and said in Gaelic, “Drop low. Stay down.”
Francis glanced over at her dismissively. “Yes. Yes, that is a better idea. Be off, Priestess, with your magic and your potions, and return with the child or I’ll kill you all.”
Bronwen locked eyes with Quinn, who barely nodded. “Go. Lay low.”
“You are certain?”
“She’s near the Big Oak,” Quinn said, smiling.
The look in Bronwen’s eyes told Quinn she understood exactly what she meant. Swinging the door open, Bronwen dropped to her knees, and watched as Derry released his bowstring.
The arrow went right through Francis’s left eye, sending him back against the wall where he was pinned for a moment before sliding down to the floor, dead before his butt hit.
Bronwen rose and she and Derry entered the room.
“Nice shot.”
“It’s what I am paid to do.” Derry pulled the gory arrow out before walking back to the door. “As I have said, my mistress would be very displeased if I let anything happen to you.”
Lord Moynihan struggled to get up but Bronwen came to his side and gently eased him back. “Rest, Lord Moynihan. We are here now. Rest.”
“What… what is going on?” He reached a hand out to Quinn, who took it. “Is it really you? I thought you dead all these years.”
“It is I, dear sir, verra much alive and well, as is your granddaughter. She has grown so much so fast. You would be so proud.”
“You’ve been poisoned,” Bronwen said softly. “Slowly, and perhaps for quite some time. I believe I can help you remove the poison from your body, but we must be quick about it.”
Lord Moynihan kept his eyes on Quinn. “You saved me. Once again, you saved a member of my family. I wish I knew how to thank you.”
“You just do as Bronwen tells you, sir, and you should be feeling better in no time.” Quinn knelt beside his bed. “Everything is going to be all right.” He was so grey, his pallor matched the walls.
Lord Moynihan coughed and wheezed, spitting up blood. “That’s rich, Callaghan. I’ve been a prisoner in my own home since you left with my granddaughter. Now, here you are, another prisoner in Castle Blackrock.” He coughed in spasms again. “How is she?”
“Growing every day, sir. She is a wonderful little girl. Inquisitive. Smart. Brave. She does her mother proud, sir. And you.”
He wheezed and struggled for breath. “I am not surprised.”
“I know you wish to see her—”
He waved this off. “Too dangerous. But it is wonderful knowing she is well. Of course,” he broke into a coughing spasm. “I had no doubts. She is with you, and you would give your life for her.”
“Indeed, I would. I appreciate your confidence in me, sir, but she has an entire crew of pirates wrapped around her finger.”
He nodded and accepted the mixture Bronwen had made for him and placed to his lips. “We’ve not much time. Robert will know you are here if he doesn’t already. He is using his considerable resources to come after you. I’ve no doubt he is probably making his way to the castle as we speak.”
“Lord Moyniha—”
He held up a brittle hand. “Let me finish, Callaghan. I am dying. If not tomorrow or the next day, then one day soon. In that chest is a secret bottom chamber—in it, you will find a will. The real will. The will Robert has designed on re-creating. In it, I am leaving Castle Blackrock to my granddaughter to be overseen by you until she is of age.”
“Sir—”
He held his hand up again. “It is the perfect place for you to sail from. It is protected, safe, and very valuable. It is to remain hers regardless of any man coming into her life. You need to…” he closes his eyes and swallowed hard. “You need to protect it and her. It is all I have to give her.”
Quinn opened the fake bottom of the chest and withdrew the scroll. “I will do that, sir. You have my word.”
“She’s all the family I have left, Callaghan. I’ll not see Blackrock handed over to that murderous bastard.”
Quinn nodded. “I understand. I’ll make sure, when you pass, that the castle goes to Gallagher.”
“You might have to fight him for it.”
“I will if I must. He does not scare me.”
“I am quite sure he does not, but right now, I need you all to return to Galway and retrieve your crew and ship before Robert’s men try to sink it. That man despises you like no other, Callaghan. He will not stop until you are dead.”
“He matters not to me, M’lord. Gallagher is all I care about, and I’ll feed Robert to the sharks if he lays a hand on her. On that, you have my word.”
Lord Moynihan patted Quinn’s shoulder weakly. “You were the only good choice my daughter ever made. I have all the confidence in the world that my granddaughter is in great hands with you.”
“I hope so, sir. She is certainly learning a great deal from my crew.”
Lord Moynihan fell into a coughing spasm. When he finally stopped, he took Quinn’s hand one more time.
“Thank you for risking your life and the life of your friends to come to my aid, but you must leave before daybreak.”
Quinn caught Bronwen’s eye. She nodded her head.
She could save Lord Moynihan.
“We will be gone before sunrise, M’lord, but—”
“I would prefer to stay,” Bronwen said. “I believe I can still help him, Quinn.”
Quinn shook her head. “No, Bronwen. I won’t leave here without you.”
Bronwen threw her shoulders back. “I have never been under your purview, my dearest friend, and that has not changed. I go where I want and when I want, and I will be staying with Lord Moynihan.”
Quinn hesitated before nodding.
“You believe you can help him, then I will respect your wishes, but you must let me and Derry help get you out of here first.”
Bronwen nodded. “My Lord, you will surely die if you stay here. You might still die on the road, but at least you have a chance. Give me the chance to save you.”
Lord Moynihan stared at her a long moment before nodding. “I’ll slow you down.”
Bronwen grinned. “Where we’re going, slow is the best speed. Come. I’ll throw some things for you in a satchel and we can leave this accursed place.” To Quinn she said, “You and Derry get us back to the horses, and we will go our way while you go yours.”
Quinn hugged her childhood friend for a long time before turning to leave. “That is a plan I can agree with”
“Good. Now, it is time for us to go. Your ship and crew may need you and escape by dark is always preferable.”
“My lord.” Quinn bowed. “Derry will carry you to the stables. We will have to ride out swiftly and hope Robert’s men are asleep and poor shots in the night.”
Derry easily lifted the frail Lord in his arms and carried him to the door. “Do you hear that, Callaghan?”
Quinn nodded. “Taran has been gone a long time. Do you think—”
“He will return with troops? I wish I could say no, but I know not these men you deal with.”
Quinn glanced down the stairs and withdrew both swords. “Then we must kill every one of them.”
Derry nodded. “I suspected as much. Still, even if we dispatch Taran and whomever he brings, it’s possible a messenger has been set afoot.”
Quinn held out both swords in front of her. “The majority of the guards are still under Moynihan rule. We have to believe they would take action against a true foe.”
Suddenly, they heard voices coming from downstairs.
“Are you all ready?”
“Aye.” Derry gently set Lord Moynihan down and raised his bow. “We must kill quickly, Callaghan. Do not hesitate.”
Quinn held her swords in front of her. “As quickly as we can.”
“She was right about you.”
Quinn and Bronwen both looked at him. “Miss Becca, sir. I’ve overheard her speaking of you. Often. Her voice betrays her feelings for you.”
Quinn looked askance at him. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I like you. You are a person of much integrity, Captain, and she is… well… you know how she is. Full of life. Vibrant. She is a woman of worth deserving of someone worthy of her.”
“That she is, but I am a captain of a pirate ship who is seldom home, and even when I am, such as now, danger seems to follow me wherever I go. Trust me. She is better off without me. Now hush.”
The scuffling below stopped.
“Yes,” Derry whispered, “but are you better off without her?”
Before Quinn could answer, Taran slowly started up the stairs, his hands raised in surrender. “Don’t shoot, Callaghan. Please. I did not bring them. I swear.”
From behind him, someone hit his head with the butt of a hilt. When he crumpled to the ground, Quinn stared down at the smiling faces of Tavish, Fitz, and One Eye.
“Didja really think we’d just let ya ride through the night toward Robert’s men alone? Are ya daft, lad?”
“I’m not alone, you old turd.” Sheathing her swords, Quinn put her arm around Derry. “I have this fine marksman.”
Tavish grunted. “Derry, right?”
Quinn slowed. “How—”
“Becca, of course. She told us what ya was plannin’ on doin’. Here we are. Ya should ha’ trusted us, lad. Comin’ alone was foolish business.” Tavish pushed Taran aside. We caught him just as he started out the castle gate.”
“Good thing, too,” Fitz said. “He didn’t have time to alert enna one ya was here, and it was pretty clear he was headin’ off to do just that.”
Quinn stared down at Taran, disappointment thick in her chest. “We sent him to round up men who had contact with Lord Moynihan.”
“Wasn’t roundin’ enna one up, lad, He was makin’ a run fer it.”
“Then I thank you for preventing him from calling in troops.”
“Ya can’t leave him alive, lad,” Tavish said. “We kept him alive so he could answer some questions and lead us to ya, but we can’t leave here with him alive.”
Quinn nodded. “Understood. We can, however, use him, and I think I know just the thing we need to get out of here in one piece.”
Tavish grinned. “I like how ya think, Captain.”
Half an hour later, Quinn and her little band of fighters rode behind Taran. Sitting on the horse behind Taran was Derry, a dagger pressed to Taran’s side.
Dressed in Lord Moynihan’s old clothes, the group appeared to be English gentry. Once they came upon the first of Robert’s men, too late he realized the people bearing down on him were not English.
They killed him and every other English sentry they met along the way. By the time they reached Galway, the sun was beginning to rise, and their clothes displayed the blood and guts of over two dozen men they had dispatched along the way.
“Callaghan, please. You have to understand—” Taran said, when they stopped outside of Galway to rest the horses. “Robert will find and kill you all. Us all. He is mad with vengeful thoughts about you and your men. Please. You need to hear me out.”
“Actually, Taran, I don’t.”
“Then you’ve signed yer death decrees,” Taran growled. “Ya will never make it out of Ireland alive.”
Quinn pulled him off the horse and rammed his back against a tree. “You listen to me you fucking traitor. Fiona Moynihan is dead because of her husband. Lord Moynihan, your boss, is nearly dead because of him. Now two dozen others are dead because of him. When are you going to wake up and realize what a pox he is on our people?”
“He may be a pox, Callaghan, but he is a very powerful one. You’re either with him or against him.”
“And what are you now, Taran? You with us or against us?”
Before he could reply, an arrow to tore through Taran’s right eye, pinning his head to the tree.
Whirling around, Quinn locked eyes with Derry, who stood with his bow still upright. “What the bloody hell, Derry?”
Slowly lowering the bow, Derry shrugged. “He was the only one who knew it was us… the only one who could tell Robert we killed his men…and others. Tavish was right, Callaghan. He had to go.”
Tavish stepped next to Derry. “Gotta agree with the lad, Callaghan. No witnesses is the only way. We bury Taran and be done with this whole sordid mess.”
Quinn glanced over to Fitz.
“Doesn’t really matter enna more, does it? What’s done is done. We bury him and move on.”
Nodding, Quinn helped bury Taran along with the clothing they’d worn over their real clothes. She had long ago done away with guilt for killing men…and guilt for killing stupid men never really made an appearance.
Her lack of empathy was one reason she had faked her death years ago. She hadn’t liked what she had turned into.
Turned out, she was exactly who she wanted to be and who her crew needed her to be.
By the time they reached the tavern, it was about eight in the morning. Only Becca and Maggie were waiting for them.
When Quinn walked in, Becca ran to her and threw her arms around Quinn’s neck. “Praise the goddesses. I’ve been so worried.”
Maggie hugged Tavish and spoke in rapid Scottish to him before kissing his cheek. To Becca she said, “Thank ya fer sendin’ word to my husband and the crew to go after our captain. We are in your debt.”
Becca smiled softly. “I’ve known Callaghan a very long time, and I had no doubt she’d try to do this alone.” To Derry, she said, “Thank ya fer takin’ good care of Captain Callaghan.”
“From what I’ve seen, Missus, Captain Callaghan can take care of herself.”
Becca wrapped her arms around Quinn and pulled her close. “Ya ever do somethin’ that stupid
again, and the wrath you feel from me will set yer hair on fire. Do we understand each other?”
Quinn pulled away and gazed into Becca’s eye as Derry’s words wafts through her mind. She was a lucky woman to be so well loved, but she stood by her own words when she said Becca was better off without her.
Because the sad truth of it was…just how true those words were.
“What do ya want to do?” Tavish paced back and forth in front of the tavern. It was almost noon and they’d just finished eating and getting cleaned up, the ship’s final repairs nearly finished. Tavish and Fitz had paid a dozen or so lads to keep them updated about any riders coming to port. Derry had pulled a number of his friends to the dock as extra protection.
Still, no sign of Robert.
Quinn was exhausted from the riding and the lack of sleep. After she’d checked in on Gallagher and Kaylish, she had a late breaking of fast with them before sending them back to the ship.
“Ireland isna safe fer ya right now, lad,” Tavish said. “Until ya can be done with Robert, yer always gonna be lookin’ over yer shoulder. You will never be free.”
Maggie nodded. “My husband is right on that score, I’m afraid. And now that you left behind a string of dead bodies, he’s really gonna come after ya now.”
“It’s time to end this, lad, once and fer all.”
Quinn strode a few steps away. “Then maybe we ought to go to the New World after all. Four or five months for him to calm down, for us to prepare better. If we are to go after him, it cannot be after we arrive in port. We would need to come from inland and surprise attack him.”
As Tavish started to answer, a boy of about ten ran into Quinn, nearly knocking her over.
The boy careened off her and started running down a small street.
Quinn felt her vest pocket. Her purse was gone. “Pickpocket!” Quinn yelled, running after him. “Mother fucker!” She could hear Tavish laughing behind her.
“Let the lad go! Ya have plenty more!”
She ignored him. When Quinn cornered the boy, she was surprised when he turned around wearing a grin on his face and dangling her purse in his hand.
“Give me back my purse and no one will get hurt.”
The boy smiled even broader and stuffed the purse down his pants.
Dead Man's Chest (The Plundered Chronicles Book 5) Page 6
