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“Are ye well?” His deep voice rumbled at her side—just like it had when he’d carried her in from the sea.
She peered up at him, chutes of warmth sailing up her arms where he held her, as if the sun itself heated her limbs. Their eyes met, and she expected to see more annoyance. But when concern rose in their brown depths instead, she paused. Was he concerned…for her?
No, it was more likely that she’d imagined the look.
Instantly, she shrugged free of his hold, steadying herself with the cane for good this time. Her limbs shook, and she gave a little shudder to rid herself of the feeling.
Mr. Honeysett stared down at her. Hurt flashed in his eyes, and only then did she realize her shudder may have been taken in a way she had not intended.
Before she could decide whether to correct him or not, disbelief inched across his features, and he rubbed the back of his neck with a shake of his head. “What do ye ’ave against fishermen, Miss ’Ollow?” he asked.
The question might have been asked rhetorically, but the concern he’d shown her had shaken the very foundation of her beliefs.
As if to reassure herself that her feelings for fishermen remained the same, she hardened her tone. “Where do I begin? They be greedy, selfish…” She paused, raising her lips so her nose wrinkled. “And they all stink of fish.”
Regret encompassed her the moment the words left her mouth. Not only for her cruelty, but also because it brought something to mind she didn’t wish to acknowledge—the fact that she’d been very near Mr. Honeysett twice now and she had yet to smell even the faintest hint of a fish on his person.
“Thank ye for explainin’,” he muttered. Then he motioned to the log she’d been seated upon. “Sit back down ’fore ye fall again. I’ll be the one to leave.”
Then with a tip of his head, he walked away and Morvoren was left alone with a regret that tore apart her insides for reasons she couldn’t begin to explain.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Trevik did his best to enjoy the rest of the evening, participating in the games, conversing with his friends, and ignoring Miss Hollow at every turn. After all, that was clearly what she wanted—to keep her distance from the stench-ridden fisherman.
When the sun edged closer to the sea, and the time was nearly upon them for the men to depart aboard the Pilferer, the group joined together, circling the fire with shared smiles and conversation.
“Anyone sittin’ ’ere, Trevik?” asked Mary Penna—the skipper’s daughter—sitting down before he could respond.
He smiled all the same, despite having had enough of the woman’s presence that evening. She’d been lingering beside him for far longer than he’d wished. Matters could be worse, though. Miss Hollow could be the one pasted to his side, instead.
He glanced across the fire to where she sat beside Mother, Miss Hollow’s eyes downcast, lips unmoving.
He’d never understand the woman. Why she wished people to believe she was a mermaid was beyond him, other than perhaps to keep people at arm’s length.
“Will ye be leavin’ to fish soon, then?” Mary asked him.
“After the songs, I reckon.”
“That be a shame. I’d ’ave liked to spend more time with ye.”
He shifted, uncomfortable against the log and with the conversation. Mary was a lovely woman—pretty, kind, and sweet-tempered. But there was no spark between them, at least from his side.
Fortunately, before Trevik had to either lie or injure the woman’s pride, Gryffyn spoke from the top of the circle. “We don’t ’ave much time for songs this evenin’, but we can surely squeeze in a few. ’Ow ’bout Come ’Ome first? Anyone like to take the female lead?”
This was one of Trevik’s favorite songs, the lines sung by the group of men while the chorus was carried by a single woman.
A few women raised their hands, Mary included, but when Trevik’s gaze caught Miss Hollow’s, he paused. Was she…
Sure enough, her hand slowly raised among the others. Trevik swiftly shook his head at her, which only proved to make her raise her hand all the higher.
Collectively, the group’s eyes turned toward her, and Trevik stifled a sigh.
“Miss ’Ollow?” Gryffyn asked. “Ye know the song?”
She nodded in silence.
Gryffyn smiled kindly, which was more than Trevik could do. He was fairly certain he was scowling again, trying to decipher the woman’s desire to sing in front of a group of strangers.
