Page 127

“A fisherman she came back for.”

“’Appen she came back for me mother and sister.”

Gryffyn laughed then, raising his voice. “Ye ’ear that men? ’E thinks she came back for ’is mother and sister!”

Laughs and jeers sounded again, and Trevik fought a smile of his own, attempting to shove Gryffyn aside, but the burly man didn’t budge a foot.

“Go on,” Trevik said. “We’ve got fish to catch.”

“Not tonight, ye don’t. It’ll be extra work for the lot o’ we, but we’ll manage without ye for a night.” He narrowed his eyes. “Now, ye’ve been pinin’ after that girl for weeks, Trev, and we be sick o’ hearin’ about it. Go speak with ’er.” Then his expression softened. “’Tain’t every day ye find a woman who loves ye the same as ye love ’er.”

The weight from Trevik’s chest lifted, hope spreading light upon the darkness within him. “Ye…ye think so?”

Gryffyn nodded. “Now go on up there ’fore Poppy returns, or ye’ll ne’er get to speak with Miss ’Ollow.”

The men laughed again, and Trevik stared up at Morvoren, his heart skipping a beat as her eyes seemed to find his.

Gryffyn was right. Morvoren felt for Trevik just as he felt for her. And every moment he wasted down there by the dock was a moment wasted that could have been spent with Morvoren.

What the devil was he doing?

With a determined stride, he turned on his heel and left for the pathway, his crew whooping behind him as he ran away.

“Don’t destroy me lugger, Gryff!” he called over his shoulder.

Gryffyn responded, but Trevik didn’t hear what he said, only one thought—one woman—on his mind.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Morvoren’s heart stuttered as Trevik left his crew behind and darted up the pathway toward her, bobbing in and out of sight as he passed by cottage after cottage.

Butterflies erupted in her stomach, and she whirled around to face the sea again. The sun had slipped behind the clouds, lighting them with a dusty mixture of orange, brown, and white as the cool, turquoise sea whispered of the quick approach of winter.

She watched the waves lilting toward the shores, trying to mimic their peace, but her hands clenched together. Had Trevik simply forgotten something at his house? Was that why he hadn’t spoken with her yet?

When his footsteps shuffled behind her, her heart leapt to her throat, and she was no longer able to breathe.

“Morvoren?”

She turned toward him, not having to feign surprise, for his actions still rattled her—the way he’d left her so abruptly in his home, now running back toward her for…for what?

“Trevik.” She felt the need to curtsy. She’d obviously spent too long living at Uncle’s. “Did ye forget somethin’?”

He stood a few paces away from her, his chest rising and falling in the creamy light the sun cast upon them. “No, I didn’t,” he replied, his eyes fixed on her. “In fact, I been thinkin’ ’bout this for a long time.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Thinkin’ ’bout what?” she managed.

He stared, his mouth open as he breathed heavily from his run up the cliffside. He shook his head, then in the next moment, he was holding her in his arms.

His hands slipped around her waist and settled at the small of her back, pulling her close to him as his lips found hers. She responded without hesitation, sliding her arms around his neck and breathing in the lemon scent she’d so desperately missed.

The ocean roared beneath them, the wind blew in her ears, and yet she could think of nothing else, she could feel nothing else, but Trevik and his arms wrapped around her as he shared his love for her.

After a moment, he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers as he softly shook his head.

“I be done waitin’,” he whispered. “And I be done regrettin’ things I ought to ’ave said long ago.”

With that, he pulled back, moving her hair from her brow and staring deep into her eyes. “I love ye, Morvoren ’Ollow. I know I ain’t be no fancy gent. I’ll not be able to afford dresses for ye as pretty as this one or provide ye with any number o’ fine things. Bein’ married to a fisherman ’tain’t an easy life, as ye be more ’an aware.” He swallowed, shaking his head as he did so. “But if ye can find it in your ’eart to do so, I can promise ye a life full o’ love and laughter.” He paused with a tip of his head and a raised shoulder. “With just a bit o’ pilchard smell along the way.”