Swept Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book One)

Chapter Fourteen

Guns were firing, men were shouting, footsteps were pounding overhead, and things were falling into the water right outside. I didn't want to think about how those things could be bodies—Tristan's body in particular—so I covered my ears with my hands, humming loudly to myself.

In reality, the fight probably only lasted a few minutes. Down in the bottom of the ship, with no light and only my ears to guess what was going on, it felt like hours. Each little sound left me wondering if the ship was sinking, or if the merchant ship we'd attacked would send men to come take the goods around me if they won the battle. I could practically taste the terror coming from me, so thick it seemed I could wrap myself up in it. Tears streamed down my face as I lay in the water, my body pressed against the wood of the ship. Every bone ached to get up and flee the fight, but I stayed put as asked.

The silence that followed the war was worse. I took it to mean that we had indeed won, but what was taking so long? What if everyone had died and the two ships were destined to float away together, with no one to guide them and myself trapped in the bottom? I'd sobbed so much by this point I was beginning to hyperventilate, every inch of me shaking as I tried to hold it together. Lying in the cold water of the hull didn't help matters either.

After it seemed a lifetime had passed, and I'd managed to stop crying, the hatch opened above and three men came down, two of them carrying something between them. The third man came straight to me, though I didn't think any of them had seen me yet.

"Sam?"

"I'm okay," I rasped out, fresh tears washing my face as Tristan knelt in front of me. It was all I could do not gasp aloud.

Covered in blood, some of it was splattered across his face, mixing with the black dirt he'd rubbed on before the attack. His shirt was ripped and I could see he'd been grazed by something, due to a small trickle of blood running down his arm to the cuff around his wrist. "Aye. I am, too, lassie."

"I can see that," I laughed pathetically, crying harder. "Can I get out of here now?"

"Come with me," he answered gently, offering his hand and helping me to my feet. Without a word to the men carrying the stolen cargo down, he led me up the stairs and into the light. Immediately, I could tell that a cannon had definitely crashed through the hull here, mostly from the gaping hole in the side with a view of the ship we were tethered to. When we entered the gun deck above, I stopped short, closing my eyes in horror. The other cannon blast I'd heard had come through here, hitting several men. There were other bodies that looked to have been shot as well.

"Samantha." Tristan's voice was soothing and commanding at the same time as he tightened his grip on my hand and pulled me through the carnage. I heard laughter coming from up above, as well as sounds of celebration from other men.

"How many?" I asked quietly, sick to my stomach.

"We lost six," he answered, knowing exactly what I was asking.

"And the other crew?"

"Two joined up."

There was a cautionary tone to his voice that caused me to not press further, but the queasy feeling intensified. Only two? If the crew of that ship was anything like this one, that meant there was almost thirty dead men on it. It was all I could do to not vomit right there.

"The rest are being left with the ship. It will be up to them if they live or not." Glancing at me over his shoulder, he squeezed my hand reassuringly, and I instantly felt the relief that came with his words.

"They aren't all dead?"

"Fifteen of their crew didn't survive. Captain Rodrigues was persuaded to let them go so they could spread word of his terrors. He likes the idea of being infamous very much."

"Thank you," I whispered, knowing it was him that did the convincing.

"The captain has been sampling the whiskey we found on board," he continued, adopting a business like tone. "Ye've been given leave to spend the evening in yer quarters." At that he turned and grinned widely and I felt my spirits rise even higher. "I'll be bringing yer dinner once we've settled and started on our way."

Reaching the door to my room—his room—he opened it, leading me inside and helping to settle me on the bed. Everything appeared untouched here, like I hadn't just experienced a pirate battle.

"I'd change out of that wet dress if I were ye," he stated, waving to the closet where the other two dresses I'd been given were stored. "Ye'll catch a cold if ye stay in that. Shall I stay and help with the laces?"

"Uh, please." I blushed, fingers fumbling over the buttons on the front of my jacket as I took it off, revealing the corset underneath. Turning so he could undo the laces, I stared at the wall, trying not to think of my racing heart or his fingers on my back. All too soon, he was finished.

"I'll be back later," he told me again.

"Maybe we can eat together?" I asked hopefully.

"Aye, that'll do." Smiling, he turned and opened the door.

"Tristan, wait!" Hurrying across the room, I flung my arms around him and hugged with all my might, my face buried into his chest. "Thank you. For everything."

His arms came around me as well, holding me tightly as he rested his chin on top of my head. "It was nothing." Sliding his hands down my back until they rested on my hips, he pushed me away slightly, looking into my eyes, a smile on his face. Once again, my breath caught and my heart pounded wildly as I realized he might be about to lean in and kiss me.

Tilting my head up, I held on to my grip around his waist, feeling the heat of his breath brush across my skin.

"I have work to finish," he said abruptly, pushing me back further until we were no longer touching.

"Okay." Confusion stabbed at me, but I let him go all the same, trying to figure out just what I was getting myself into here.