Authors: Carmella Jones
But it was different once they got near the gates -- several guards looked at Drake in confusion, and she could practically hear them mouthing
do you know that guy?
“
Drake
.” she whispered through gritted teeth. Drake didn’t react, but headed for a slight figure in a dress nearby. Helen!
Helen floated over in her ethereal way, nodding at Drake and handing Charlotte a bag before rapping imperiously at the soldiers that guarded the gates. The two large guards jumped to attention -- they obviously recognized who she was.
“Yes ma’am?”
“Let me through, will you? Charlotte has a fitting to get to -- her wedding dress won’t make itself you know.”
One of the guards seemed unconvinced. “But the fitting was yesterday...and the prince told me not to let
anyone
out without his presence.”
“Do you not know who I am?” Helen seemed to grow before them, a powerful figure as she pulled rank. “I am the Duchess of Devonshire’s daughter, and a fantastic seamstress to boot. If you must know, one of her measurements went wrong yesterday and out of shame the dressmaker asked me, an intimate friend of both Charlotte
and
the prince, to take a second set. Now if you’re willing to be responsible for a wedding dress that doesn’t fit, please, be my guest.”
The guards waved them through rather hurriedly after that.
Outside the gates, Helen turned to Charlotte and embraced her. “Be happy. Those clothes in the bag are my gift to you -- use them wisely.” She turned to Drake. “And you! I put myself at great personal risk for you, Sir Gentleman Pirate. Don’t even think of returning here without some fantastic stories to tell in exchange.”
“Of course,” they both replied in tandem. Drake grabbed her arm and began to tug her away.
“Goodbye, Helen!” Charlotte waved, and then they both ran.
Through the city, past the fish market, beneath the docks, on the rowboat. Once she clambered up on the side of the ship, a huge hurrah came from the crew.
“Yeh made it!” Pietri grinned as he bustled about getting the ship ready to sail. Pirates were everywhere: hoisting the rigging, in the crow’s nest, pulling up the anchor. Drake, with a hand around Charlotte’s waist, made his way over to the wheel.
“Ready, men?” He roared over the crashing of the sea waves.
“Aye, aye, cap’n!”
“To the sea!” The nose of the ship turned towards the open water, and Drake and Charlotte stood at the helm as they left the constraints of England behind. A whole new world opened up in front of Charlotte and she threw back her head and laughed as adrenaline and hope sang through her body.
“Are you happy?” Drake asked, murmuring through Charlotte’s hair.
“Yes.” She sighed, turning her head slightly so their lips met -- slowly and victoriously at first, then stronger and more passionate.
“Careful, sweet. Any more and I might have you here, in front of the men.” He warned, licking his lips. “Now that you’re mine, who will stop me?”
“What a lecherous pirate you are,” Charlotte smiled, tasting his manly taste in return.
“Oi there! You two!” Pietri yelled from the bow. “Make a scene later! The navy’s onto us!”
Drake and Charlotte separated, only to see two ships bearing the ensigna of the Royal Navy.
“By the Scourge himself,” Drake cursed. “It seems they saw my ship.”
“Can we outrun them?”
“Of course we can.” Drake grinned. “Are you ready for your first day as a pirate, little Duchess?”
Charlotte could almost sing with excitement. “Ready when you are.”
THE END
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Chapter One
Things were more than a little tense in the Galloway house, and not for the first time. Glenna was in the kitchen washing plates that were already spotless, just to avoid going out of her safe space while a feud threatened to tear her family apart. Her only daughter had just brought up for what felt like the hundredth time how unfair it was that her brothers were allowed to fight but she wasn’t. It was a never-ending tug-of-war that never ceased.
Nothing Donnan or Glenna said seemed to get through their daughter’s head that her skill with a short sword, though good for a girl, wouldn’t cut it on the battlefield. She was just not suited for the toils of war—no woman was. Yet try as they may, nothing could convince young Caitriona. She was as stubborn as a boar, much like her father.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do with our wee lassie, I swear I don’t,” Donnan’s deep voice grumbled behind Glenna as he walked into the kitchen. Glenna honestly hadn’t heard him come in, and so she nearly dropped the dish that she had been scrubbing in the washbasin, but she just took a moment and sighed at her husband’s words. This wasn’t the first time she had heard them.
“I know. I know,” she replied tiredly. “She listens about as well as a daft mule.” Donnan walked up behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder, obviously tired of the fighting within his household. He had no idea why his daughter had it in her head that she belonged on the battlefield. He regretted ever teaching her how to fight in the first place, but with the feud going on between his clan and the MacNeils, Donnan felt the girl needed some training for self-defense. He hadn’t known this would happen.
“Where did the lass run off to?” Glenna asked. The house was abnormally quiet, especially after the screaming match that Donnan had just held with their middle child, so Glenna assumed that Caitriona must have run off in a huff.
“The hell if I know where she ran off to. If she wasn’t so bloody stubborn, we wouldn’t have half the problems we do,” he replied, sighing again. Donnan was the strongest-willed man that Glenna knew, which probably contributed quite a bit to the problems between him and his daughter. Yet it was evident that this ceaseless arguing between them on the subject of the battlefield was slowly but surely wearing down his resolve.
Glenna turned and gave her husband a comforting kiss and held him for a moment. “We’ll get through to her yet that she can’t swing her sword around willy nilly and think that anything good will come of it. Don’t give up hope,” she said, trying to encourage Donnan.
Caitriona had indeed run off, away from her father and the suffocating atmosphere of the household. Before she left, she had made her mark: a stab into the wall with her short sword, this being just one of many. A little ritual of sorts she had adopted, a sort of tallying to signify another failed attempt to show her parents the error of their ways. Once again, she had been denied her request to fight for her family. To protect what she loved and held dear. She hated being treated like a delicate little flower, like some rose that needed to be sheltered from the big, bad world. So, she had run away to her usual hiding spot: her favorite big oak tree by the creek.
The soothing sounds of the trickling water normally helped soothe Caitriona’s mind, but it did no good this time. She was too busy belting the tree with her sword, letting the bits of bark flutter and fall as she lashed out her anger on this sturdy opponent.
“Why won’t they let me fight!? she snapped, whacking her sword on a branch before sitting herself down on the damp grass and holding her weapon tight. “I’m only trying to help! I only want to fight! I’m a better fighter than Roddy. I can hold my ground far better than him. I—”
She stopped herself and sighed. What did it matter? Her shouting would solve nothing. Her father was too stubborn to listen. He would bring any other male to fight by his side so his daughter could be kept locked away, as far from the battle as possible. It wasn’t fair. Caitriona wanted to prove herself. She wanted to show her father she was as good as any man on the front lines of war, but that was just not possible. Even with the proof right in front of his face, he refused to accept it. The future seemed bleak to her, like there was no discernable path she could take that would show her father her skills in actual battle, unless he gave her his permission to fight. Mere sparring didn’t impress him. She had to bring him back a prize, something to prove herself. After that, maybe her father would accept her as a warrior, and not just some delicate doll he could put on a pedestal and brag about to the neighbors.
It seemed fate was going to grant her wish. The wind rustled past, carrying the sounds of a young boy’s laugh; it was a carefree, jolly laugh, and it wasn’t far off. Caitriona lifted her head and started through the woods on the other side of the creek. Someone was there. Not many families lived around these parts, so Caitriona knew there was a high probability that this was a MacNeil. Her prize, her proof that she could fight, might just be right at her fingertips.
Caitriona picked up her sword, keeping it close to her as she skipped over the rocks and leaped to the other side of the creek. Once her feet were steady, she crept into the woods, staying silent and stealthy as she approached her prey.
In the clearing, the originator of the laugh stood, petting a small fawn and letting it eat some berries out of his hand. His carefree expression and easy, relaxed manner seemed alien to Caitriona. She was used to the atmosphere of her home, where there seemed to always be a fog of tension present. Yet here was the enemy, standing in the wide open field as jovial as a bird, playing with the creatures of the forest.
Ailean looked up and notice Caitriona standing off at the edge of the clearing. He would have smiled and asked her why she was wandering around the woods, if he hadn’t noticed her short sword first. Seeing the weapon put him a little on edge, and he was afraid that she might put it to use. His only weapon was a bow and arrow, not that he would try and engage anyone in combat in the first place. Much to the dismay of his parents, he was a pacifist at heart.
“Who are you?” Ailean asked, putting himself in front of the fawn so it was protected, even if his knees were trembling slightly.
Hearing the confusion in the boy’s voice made Caitriona falter slightly. She could tell he was scared, but that seemed to emanate from the presence of her sword, not her family name.
“You don’t know who I am?” she asked warily, keeping her eyes locked on the boy and keeping the sword close, ready to strike if he was to reach for his bow and arrow.
“N-No, should I know you?” Ailean replied, trying to put on a brave face to protect his fawn friend. The baby deer kept behind the boy, only poking his head out to see if the danger had left, but the girl didn’t seem to have any intention of going anywhere.
“Then who do you think I am?” Caitriona demanded, trying to make sense of the situation. This boy was strange. She’d never met anyone like him. Any other man would have just engaged her in combat, or laughed at her attempts at being a warrior. This didn’t make much sense.
“You’re a hunter, aren’t you? Someone who just wants to prey on someone weaker who can’t defend themselves,” Ailean piped up, trying to pluck his courage up. He knew he wouldn’t beat this girl in a fight. Fighting just wasn’t his strength. He was more interested in playing out in the woods than learning how to defend himself. Sure, he had some skill with his bow and arrow, but that was against a wooden target. It was obvious that he was no match for a living, breathing killer. However, this killer seemed to have no interest in taking a life today.
Caitriona sheathed her sword, almost feeling guilty for having it out in the first place. She was no cold-blooded murderer. The thought of even taking the life of a helpless creature made her whole body feel cold with shame, even if she was taking the life of her family’s enemy.
“I am no hunter,” she replied softly “I simply thought you were an enemy.” Hearing this, and seeing the sword put away, Ailean physically relaxed and gave the little fawn a pat on the head to show him everything was okay. The little buck soon came forward, shaking its delicate head before starting to graze again now that the air was settled.
“I have no desire to be anyone’s enemy. I think it’s much nicer to have a friend,” Ailean smiled and turned his gaze to the tiny fawn. “This little guy is my only friend. His mother was killed when he was very young. Slaughtered for her meat. I’ve been looking after him since. We were all alone in the world, but now we have each other.”
This was unlike any story Caitriona had ever heard. The tales told to her by her family were those of bloodshed and war; of honor and of victory. She was not accustomed to tales told from the victim’s perspective, but for the first time she felt sympathy for someone on the losing side. She had been conditioned to believe that the losers deserved their plight because they just weren’t strong enough.
Against her will, her heart was swamped in a sea of sorrow. She had grown up in a world of violence. There was constant fighting, blood and death in her life. Love, compassion and selflessness were not things she had witnessed too often, but this act of kindness had certainly melted an icy shell that had encased her heart, at least a little bit. Caitriona took a step closer, her gaze switching from the boy and his buck, really taking in the sight.
“What’s his name?” Caitriona asked softly, cautiously reaching her hand over to the fawn to give it a pet.
“His name is Hamish, and I’m Ailean,” the boy replied with a smile, giving the buck a pat on the flank to encourage him to say hello. The little deer did. He raised his head and sniffed at her hand, giving it a little lick before starting to graze again. “So, is your name as pretty as your face?”
Hearing that, Caitriona blushed darkly, her cheeks blooming a rosy red. She certainly wasn’t expecting a compliment, and had never really heard anything so nice before.
“My name? Oh, it’s Caitriona. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ailean,” she replied, glancing back to the little fawn. She had personally helped her family hunt deer for meat, and so she knew how skittish that they were. Seeing this little tyke be so comfortable around humans was a little strange, but perhaps she should just credit that to Ailean rearing him.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Ailean replied and sat down on the soft turf. Hamish, finished with his grazing, went over to his friend and plopped down on his lap, looking up at him as if to beg for a bit of attention.
Ailean chuckled at the little deer and gave him a good pet and played with him for a little bit. He was happy that Caitriona had come along, of course, but he couldn’t ignore his cute little fawn either.
“It’s amazing how tame the little guy is,” Caitriona said, tentatively reaching out and petting Hamish’s head and playing with his floppy ears. Hamish nuzzled into her touch, and she giggled a bit. Before this, she always thought of deer as just a source of food. The thought of a tame deer that she could keep around for fun and friendship never even crossed her mind.
“He’s not tame. He’s just my friend,” Ailean replied, as that was how he saw it. Little Hamish helped Ailean through a hard time, and Ailean helped Hamish. He didn’t teach Hamish any tricks or put him on a leash like a dog. He saw Hamish as an equal, and he didn’t want anything more than that.
“I just mean, he’s rather comfortable around humans,” Caitriona said, a bit confused by Ailean’s response. Having an animal for a companion meant that it was your pet in Caitriona’s eyes, because she’d never been exposed to anything else. She hadn’t been exposed to a deer willing to be around humans calmly at all, so she was being inundated with a lot of new information today.
“Not all humans,” Ailean replied, his voice faltering a little bit there. The baby buck was a rather timid deer, so strangers made him feel frightened, and he would run if there was any sign of danger. It was why Ailean sheltered Hamish as soon as Caitriona presented herself as a threat. Thankfully, it was resolved before things became too dangerous, otherwise the buck would have run away, and Ailean probably wouldn’t see him for a while.
“My father doesn’t really understand. Every time he sees Hamish he tries to kill him for meat. Mother doesn’t even try and stop him. They don’t seem to care that he’s my friend. They don’t understand me at all,” Ailean spoke, a sigh of exasperation slipping through his lips. This conflict had been going on since the time of his birth. He was the disappointing, pacifist son from a family of famous killers. He never quite added up to his parents’ expectations, and that was something Caitriona could relate to.
All her life, Caitriona had been a thorn in her parents’ side, going completely against their desire to raise her as a pretty little princess who just cleaned the house and cooked up a good haggis. Finally, there was someone else who knew how she felt. Someone else who shared her pain. Someone else who finally understood how hard it was not to be accepted for who you were.
“My parents don’t understand me either,” Caitriona spoke after a moment of silence. “Ever since I could pick up a sword, I wanted to learn how to fight. Learn how to defend myself. Mother and Father hated it. They wanted me to wear pretty dresses, play with my dolls and clean the house. That’s not what I want, though. It’s not the life for me.”
“It seems if we swapped parents we’d be fine,” Ailean chuckled a little, trying to make light of the situation. Things didn’t have to be so bad. Sure, their parents didn’t get them, but it seemed they had finally found someone who understood what they were going through, and maybe this was an opportunity to make a friend out of a stranger.