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“Absolutely,” Trevik said.
Morvoren made to stop and speak more with the man, but Trevik pulled her along. Mr. Bosanko gave her a knowing look, then returned his attention to his son.
“A bit anxious, are ye?” Morvoren asked, peering up at Trevik.
He shrugged. “To ’ave ye alone for a moment? I s’pose.”
She smiled up at him, her heart swirling with love for the man. They’d been married for a little over half a year, and still, warmth overcame her each time she thought of how greatly her life had improved—all thanks to Trevik.
She couldn’t blame him for his anxiousness, however. Living with Poppy and Mrs. Honeysett—and having Trevik’s schedule of fishing at night—made it extremely difficult for the two of them to receive any time together alone, but they’d found certain ways to work around it.
Namely, heading to the sea every spare moment they received.
“If one more person tries to stop us, I’ll ignore ’em,” Trevik said as they neared the cellars.
She smiled again, flattered that he so greatly wished to spend time with her.
She gave a contented sigh as they continued forward, resting her head on the side of his arm as they ambled toward the cobbled pathway down to the beach. “The mackerel ’ave been fine this year, ’aven’t they?” she asked.
Trevik instantly shook his head. “No. No talk o’ fish or work.”
“Then what be we allowed to speak of? Your mother? Poppy?”
“Heaven forbid. No. Poppy ain’t—”
“Morvoren!”
Trevik groaned. “I swear she knows the second we be alone together.”
Morvoren patted his arm, then turned around to face Poppy, who sprinted toward them, waving a paper in her hand.
“Morvoren, I’ve somethin’ to show ye!”
“Come, maybe she ’asn’t seen us,” Trevik said, tugging Morvoren forward.
She laughed. “She can ’ear ye right now!”
“I most certainly can,” Poppy said with a condemning look at Trevik. Then her face brightened again as she looked at Morvoren. “I need to show ye somethin’.”
The paper she’d waved in the air before was now held behind her back, and Morvoren narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”
Poppy hesitated, glancing at Trevik.
He grunted. “Oh, so I don’t get to be privy to what ye ’ave to say?”
Morvoren reached up, placing a quick peck to his cheek, then urging him down the pathway. “Ye continue on. I’ll be just a moment.”
His grumbling continued as he moved forward, and Morvoren smiled before facing Poppy. “Now, tell me. What has gotten ye so excited?”
Poppy drew a deep breath, then pulled the paper—a correspondence—to her chest.
“It be from Lieutenant ’Arris,” she whispered in a soft squeal. “’E’s written to I!”
Morvoren’s lips parted in surprise. “Well what did ’e say?”
She waited, as if for dramatic effect, then finally, she blurted out her response. “’E’s asked me to wait for ’im!”
“What?” Morvoren breathed.
