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“Do ye really think I could be a…a mermaid, Jowan?” she asked with a little laugh. “Seems to I that be a bit too fanciful.”
“Not accordin’ to Grandfar.”
“Well what reasons does your grandfar have to believe such a thing?” She flashed another grin, glancing at Mr. Honeysett. His brow furrowed, and he’d turned to face her more fully.
“’E be suspicious that ye don’t ’ave no ’ome,” Jowan began. “And o’ the fact that ye were found in the sea. ’E says that no self-respectin’ woman would be caught dead swimmin’ in her underclothes.”
Morvoren forced her smile to remain. She didn’t like this grandfar of Jowan’s. Not one bit. What did it matter if she enjoyed the occasional swim? At least she was clothed at all.
“’E says no mermaid can be trusted. And no woman, for that matter.”
Morvoren stared dully at him. He was beginning to sound just like Uncle.
“Women are meant to be indoors and silent,” he’d say. “Not gallivanting through waves. You are not wise enough to make your own decisions, Miss Hollow. That is why I am here.”
All fishermen were the same, wishing to control women in every aspect of their lives. That was the real reason a man was afraid of sea-maids—not because of their power but because they were women with power.
She sent another furtive glance at Mr. Honeysett, pleased to see him still watching her with disapproval. He was no doubt dying to know what she was up to.
Let him wonder and assume the worst of her. She was used to such a thing by now. “Your grandfar, Jowan. Be he a fisherman, too?”
Jowan nodded proudly. “And me grandfar before that. Fishin’ be in our blood.”
Morvoren smiled, though she longed to curse the man’s very words. Being a part of such a trade was nothing to be proud of—not when it so consistently destroyed the lives of others.
Uncle’s obsession had caused him to neglect his poor wife long before Morvoren might have had the chance to meet her. And Father? He not only forgot himself but his wife and daughter, too. What was admirable about any of that?
She leaned closer to Jowan and from the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Honeysett take a step toward them, as if ready to run to Jowan’s aid at a moment’s notice.
“Can I share somethin’ with ye then, Jowan?”
“I s’pose.”
“I would listen to your grandfar.”
“Why?” he breathed.
Her smile disappeared, and her words iced over greater than any frost. “He is very wise to be on his guard…for he seems to be the only one who knows a sea-maid when he sees one.”
His eyes rounded, and he pulled away from her.
“Jowan?”
The young man jumped, and Morvoren turned to face Mr. Honeysett, who’d approached them both in the last moment unnoticed.
“Your grandfar be lookin’ for ye,” he said.
Jowan nodded, glancing at Morvoren as he scrambled to stand.
She allowed a slow smile to spread across her lips, and with a smooth voice, she said, “Thank ye for talkin’, Jowan. I hope to see ye again soon.” Then she turned with fluid movements to watch the sea.
Jowan didn’t respond, scurrying away as quickly as his legs would allow.
Mr. Honeysett remained behind, and Morvoren braced herself for the storm of words that was inevitably on its way.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“What were ye talkin’ about with ’im?”
