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“Did ’er memory return, then?”

Trevik hesitated, lowering his voice. “Can I ’ave your word not to repeat this, Gryff?”

“’Course.” His brow furrowed.

Trevik glanced around them. Revealing his anxiousness over the situation to anyone other than Gryffyn would prove to increase all of Tristwick’s nerves. Allowing them to believe that Trevik had the situation under control would be far wiser. Father had always known just what to say to ease others’ concerns, but Trevik’s patience always wore thin when superstitions were believed over logic.

“I think she be lyin’,” he whispered. “’Bout everythin’.”

Gryffyn blew out a slow breath. “Why do ye say that?”

As they carried on down the pathway, Trevik briefly explained his reasoning. Her accent shifting, her memory coming and going. Her defensiveness over her bag and her knowledge of the law.

“What reason ’as she to lie, though?” Gryffyn asked after Trevik’s explanation.

Trevik raised his hands in a helpless gesture. He’d gone through every option, from her being a spy of seiners to her being on the run from the law. “I can’t say for sure. All I know is that if others find out, there’ll be the devil to pay.”

Gryffyn was silent for a moment as they rounded the ridge toward the center of the cove. From their vantage point, they could see the men already boarding the lugger, white sails and dark wood against a shimmering sea and orange sky.

Trevik tried to allow the sight to soothe his concerns, but Gryffyn’s worried expression unsettled him further. “Don’t tell me. Edern’s already been talkin’ to others ’bout ’er?” Trevik asked.

“’Fraid so. ’E’s been tellin’ everyone that ye brought a mermaid aboard the Pilferer and now ye be ’oldin’ ’er against ’er will. ’E believes it be only a matter o’ time ’fore she wreaks ’avoc on we. And Jowan be more afeared than ’is grandfar.”

Trevik blew out an impatient breath. How was Trevik to keep Jowan and Edern silent so they could all focus on what was really important—staying alive that winter by fishing now?

“T’only good thing that’s ’appened in all this is that Miss ’Ollow can’t walk,” he grumbled. “If she came out and all o’ Tristwick saw ’er, they’d be certain she be from the sea.”

“Why be that?”

“For one thing, she be a stranger. For another, she claims to not know where ’er ’ome be. Edern’d say at once that she wishes to ’ide the fact that she be from the sea. Then o’ course, there be the matter of ’er looks.”

Gryffyn didn’t respond.

Trevik glanced over to see if he’d heard him, then pulled back when he was met with Gryffyn’s sly smile.

“What ye be smilin’ for?”

“Ye think she ’as the look of a sea-maid then, do ye?”

Heavens above. “Ye’ve seen ’er, Gryff. I’d be lyin’ if I said she ain’t be a docy maid.”

And she was even more beautiful now. When he’d first pulled her from the sea, she’d been as blue as a mackerel with eyes that bulged like a flounder.

This afternoon, however, her cheeks glowed pink and that blue dress of hers had accentuated the green of her eyes. He’d thought her hair had been a shade darker, no doubt from all the sea water. But with it dry and piled at the back of her head, the color was as golden as a…well, a siren. All put together, she appeared rather elegant—which made him wonder yet again where she was from. The proper accent she’d first exhibited and her apparent grace both pointed to her home being far finer than Tristwick.

Noting the continued silence from Gryffyn, Trevik glanced up at him, catching another knowing grin.

Trevik shook his head. “I know what ye be thinkin’, but she ain’t me taste.”

“Be that so?”

“Yes. Beautiful women be like wild roses, see. They be fine enough to look at, but when ye draw close to ’em, the thorns get ye.”

Gryffyn chuckled, but Trevik was serious. In his admittedly limited experience, fine women were far more interested in wealth than anything else. That was fine by him. He didn’t have time to waste on women who couldn’t pull their own weight in a marriage.

“I will say this,” Gryffyn finally said. “Ye can keep ’er tucked away in your ’ome if ye wish. But keepin’ ’er ’idden will only rouse suspicions more.”

Blast, if that wasn’t a valid argument.