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She shook her head, unable to process what was occurring. He’d come to rescue her? To bring her back to Tristwick? Hope flowered in her heart, but she quickly pressed it down. They may have been able to intimidate Uncle into allowing her freedom, but they couldn’t do the same for any constable sent her way.

“What are ye doin’ out ’ere alone?”

“Waitin’ to be sent to gaol.”

He gave a short laugh, but she shook her head. Perhaps he didn’t understand what she’d said. “I left Uncle,” she explained, attempting to make sense of her own words as Trevik slowly closed the distance between them. “Mr. Foss severed their business relationship and ended the engagement ’tween me and ’is son after ’e found out ’bout me time in Tristwick.”

Trevik didn’t respond, merely took another slow step toward her.

“I broke the contract with Uncle,” she said, her eyes flickering to the growing smile on his lips. Was he truly not comprehending the danger she was still under? “That means there be nothin’ stoppin’ him from pressin’ charges.”

Trevik nodded. So he did understand. But then…why was his grin shining brighter than the sun above?

“Trevik, what be goin’ on?” she asked, glancing back at the other two men, who still watched the exchange with half-averted eyes.

“Do ye not wonder ’ow Mr. Foss came to know ‘bout your time with us?”

She narrowed her eyes. “He said he heard from a source…” Her words trailed off as Trevik’s dark eyes shone. “It was ye?”

His eyes traced her features. “’Twas Mother’s idea. The three o’ we came ’ere and spoke with Mr. Foss last night, caught ’im leavin’ some sort o’ party. Captain Kendricks came to use ’is weight as a respected officer, and Gryff…well, ’e came to use ’is other sort o’ weight.”

He smiled, though his expression swiftly turned contrite. “We didn’t know ’ow else to free ye. I couldn’t stomach the idea of ruinin’ your reputation, spreadin’ round where ye were. I know ’ow important that be for women. It took Mother a week to convince I to go about the plan at all.” He seemed to pull back for a moment as if to shield himself. “Are ye angry?”

“Angry?” she blurted out with a half-sob, half-laugh. “How could I be angry? Ye saved me from livin’ a life with a…” She shook her head, unable to come up with a word strong enough for a man the likes of Mr. Foss—a word that wasn’t a curse, that is. “No, I ain’t be angry, Trevik. I can’t thank ye enough. But…but I fear ’twas in vain. The constable—”

“Will not be comin’,” Trevik interrupted. He shook his head with disgust. “I assume your uncle didn’t tell ye ’bout the agreement I made with ’im meself?”

“What agreement?”

“I refused the repairs for the lugger in exchange for another contract, one detailin’ that ’e’d forgive ye for the debt and me for strikin’ ’im. I ’ave the document meself.” His brow raised. “That man don’t ’ave any power over ye any longer.”

A moment passed as she tried to process his words. That was what Uncle had left out of his explanation. That was why he hadn’t mended the lugger. Of course he wouldn’t share with her the truth, because he wanted to keep her under his control forever. That was why he’d allowed her to leave. That was why a constable had not yet found her—because there would be no constable.

She brought a hand to cover her mouth, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Ye mean, I be free?”

His own eyes glistened. “Yes, Morvoren. Ye be free. Ye can do whate’er ye wish to do from now on.”

The words reached her ears like a lovely tune.

Without hesitation, she leapt forward, closing the distance between her and Trevik and wrapping her arms around his neck. He instantly responded, encircling her in his strong embrace and nuzzling his nose into her neck.

“Thank ye,” she whispered, “for everythin’.”

He didn’t respond, merely drawing her closer.

They stood in their silent embrace a moment longer before Morvoren opened her eyes and peered over Trevik’s shoulder just as Mr. Bosanko and Captain Kendricks pulled their eyes away from them.

She smiled, taking a step back from Trevik, who glanced over his shoulder at his friends.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away. “So…now ye be free, ye must decide what ye wish to do.” He looked anywhere but her eyes—the sea, the men behind him, the large buildings across St. Ives. “We be prepared to be your chaperones all the way to Bodmin, if ye wish. Or we can ’elp ye find the Prouts. Or…or ye can come back with us to Tristwick…”

Morvoren beamed at his subtle hinting. “Tristwick,” she said softly. “I want to be in Tristwick.”

Finally, he met her gaze. “Ye be certain?”

She nodded. “If ye be certain that I won’t be the cause of any more trouble.”

He chuckled. “I doubt that ye could e’er not be trouble, Morvoren Hollow.”