Swept Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book One)

Chapter Seventeen

The beautiful dress, marked by salt-water spray, whiskey, and sweat, lay on the bed, seeming sad somehow. The blue fabric had helped see me through my months at sea and I was disappointed to have to leave it behind, all except the corset that was. It had done nothing but pain me the entire time. The only thing that was good about it was the memories of Tristan's fingers on it, unlacing it for me in a way that made me pleasantly wild to think about now. But, there would be no more Tristan to help untie me, and no need to wear it any longer.

Trying to get a feel for how I looked without the assistance of a mirror, once again, I reached under my shirt and tugged at the stockings tied around my chest, making sure that they wouldn't come loose unexpectedly. Tying my breasts down had not been the most enjoyable part of my day, by far, but I was fairly certain they wouldn't be noticed right off, if at all. The wrap held well and I readjusted my shirt, tucking it into the long brown pants. Knowing that Captain Rodrigues had most likely worn these without underpants made me fiercely wish I had my panties, but I'd gotten rid of them long ago, before we were even a month at sea, since there was no way to really wash them and keep them from stinking of sweat. I couldn't exactly go out and get new ones, so I would just have to make do. The boots didn't fit perfectly—apparently there was no such thing as shoe sizes in this time period—but they weren't so big I couldn't walk in them.

Sliding into the long jacket, I did my best to hide that I didn't have a belt, not because the pants didn't fit, but because I had no weapon. A man from now would have at least had some kind of pistol or knife, but I had nothing. Making a note to get something as soon as possible, and blanching at the thought of having to steal from someone else, I grabbed the large hat and placed it on my head, letting the brim cover my face some. That, coupled with the fact that my hair was worn down and long, should disguise my true identity from most everyone passing by. I'd braided a few strands as well, like I'd seen some of the pirates do. By all accounts, I should look like a man. At least I hoped I did.

Mr. Abby had returned the night before, as promised, and delivered the instructions on where I was to go. He informed me the Adelina would be leaving port this afternoon, but couldn't be bothered to share where to or why so soon. Apparently, Tristan hadn't appreciated my time spent with the captain—which he was making wrong assumptions about, it appeared—and I was being left completely on my own. That was fine by me—I would have better success with the crew out of the way and no one to possibly recognize me.

The plan was simple; dress like a man to keep the perverts away, hide on a new ship, get off in the Americas, and make my way back to the Treasure Pit. It would take time, certainly, but it was the only way I could think to get back to where I needed. History classes had taught me about The Triangle of Trade, a route ships used to deliver goods between countries, and I intended to use that knowledge to the best of my ability. America may not be the first stop, but it would come eventually. Silently, I cursed myself for majoring in English instead of history. This would have been much easier if I'd known what was going on around me! Being in Spain, it was clear they were at war with the English and French—it was all anyone wanted to talk about—which didn't sound surprising. No one in La Coruña seemed concerned by it, though. Apparently, the armies were in France at the moment. Besides that, I knew absolutely nothing. Nada. Zip. It was incredibly frustrating.

Sighing, I knew it was time to leave the room and start the next part of the journey. However, I found it hard to vacate the comfort of it, knowing it would be a long time before I sat in front of a fire again, or laid on a feather bed. The room itself was tiny, with wooden walls that did nothing to keep sound out, but it felt like home for some reason. Glancing at the dress on the bed, I felt a pang of longing for Tristan, wondering if he would ever hear that I didn't make it to his cousin's house. Would he worry about me? Would my disappearance faze him at all? There was no way to know. Right now, he was probably making plans to permanently fix the damage to the ship that had been hastily mended after their hunt. He would be working, taking care of things. Why should he stop to think about me?