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In the Waves of Tristwick

Page 123

by Deborah M. Hathaway

His eyes flickered away from hers, and her heart thudded in her ears. “Uncle…”

He withdrew his hold of her, and she knew the truth at once. “Ye ne’er fixed it, did ye?”

He squared his shoulders and faced her again. “No, I didn’t. But before you go on and accuse me of not fulfilling my end of the bargain, you’ll be interested to discover that Mr. Honeysett refused my help in funding the lugger’s repairs.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to discern fact from fiction as he continued, a satisfied smile spreading across his lips. “Apparently, he didn’t want any of your help after you lied to him and damaged his family.”

No. No, Morvoren refused to believe such words. “Ye lie.”

“Do I?” he asked, pushing forward. “Or do you know, deep down, that I speak the truth? None of them want you. They never wanted you.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them flow freely. Uncle always did this, twisted the truth with his words. But she would not listen to him any longer.

With swift footing, she darted around him and made for the door, heaving it open as she forced her breathing to continue.

Uncle didn’t try to stop her this time, his voice calling from inside his home. “Even if you arrive in Tristwick before the constable reaches you, they will never take you back.” He bared his teeth, growling his words. “You were a burden to them just as you’ve always been a burden to me.”

Morvoren stared down at the paved steps leading away from Uncle’s townhome. Then his arm gripped hers from behind, whirling her around to face him.

“I’ll be glad to be rid of you,” he spat out. “You’ve been nothing but a plague upon my house from the moment you arrived. Just like your mother was to my good name.”

Morvoren stared up at him, pride welling in her heart at the mention of her mother. “Ye are the only one who can take the blame for tarnishing the Truscott name, Uncle. And ye deserve to bear it alone.”

Then she raised her head and slowly descended the steps to her freedom, to her future. To the sea.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Morvoren reached the long stretch of sand a quarter of an hour later. She walked past strangers and familiar faces with her head held high, standing at the edge of the sand, her slippers peeking out from the bottom of her white gown.

She didn’t realize until then that she hadn’t changed into her walking boots. If by some miracle Uncle didn’t send the constable after her, she’d have a wretched time walking anywhere in these slippers.

But no matter. Uncle would press charges. And she would not be spending her final moments of freedom dwelling on footwear, of all things.

She raised her sights instead to the sea. Though not Tristwick, the view from St. Ives was beautiful in its own right. The stretch of the deep blue waves extended far beyond the bay, sparkling in the early afternoon sunshine. She drew in a long breath of the salty air blowing back the curls at her temples.

Couples meandered across the beach toward the water, and ladies skittered from shop to shop behind Morvoren, their arms full of their latest purchases.

Morvoren hardly noticed them. It was just her and the sea in this perfect moment of tranquility. Indeed, the only thing to improve upon this perfection would be if—

“Morvoren?”

Her heart skipped about her chest. The constable wouldn’t use her given name. Nor would Uncle.

“Morvoren!”

The breath rushed from her lungs. It couldn’t be him. It would be too wonderful, too perfect.

And yet, when she finally turned around, she could no longer deny the truth standing before her eyes.

With his brow raised high and his warm brown eyes caressing her face, Trevik stood before her, his chest rising and falling as if breathless.

“Trevik?” she whispered, tears billowing in her eyes. “What…what are ye doin’ here?”

Worry creased his brow as he took in the sight of her, then his eyes softened. “We’ve come to take ye back to Tristwick.”

We? She glanced over his shoulder, only then noting Gryffyn Bosanko and Captain Kendricks standing behind him, small smiles on each of the grown men’s faces.

“I brought ’em with me,” Trevik said with a motion toward his friends. “’Appen your Uncle needed persuadin’ to let ye go.”