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“There ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” Poppy said, then she picked up her pace and left him behind.

Trevik slowed, staring after her with disappointment.

“Ye need to be softer with ’er, Trev,” Mother said, finally catching up to him after he and Poppy had scurried ahead.

He glanced toward her, catching Miss Hollow’s judgmental scowl in the process. In what world did she have the right to be upset with him?

The sun silhouetted her golden hair, causing it to appear as a halo around her head, and he could have laughed at the irony. Angel, indeed. The woman was more of an imp, creating more trouble by the moment.

“I’ll see the girls ’ome, Trev,” Mother said with a soft pat to his cheek. “Then I’ll bring ye down your food and satchel for the lugger.”

Without awaiting a response, she moved forward with Miss Hollow at a slow pace. Mother didn’t look back, but Miss Hollow did, and the superior look she cast him was enough to curdle his insides.

So much for helping Poppy, and so much for easing Tristwick’s suspicions over the woman.

What an absolute disaster of an evening that night had turned out to be.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Now that Morvoren had experienced the beauty that Tristwick boasted, she could not be kept from returning out of doors, even with her sore foot and the possible threat of a seiner catching her.

Poppy and Mrs. Honeysett were occupied with the cellars that morning, so instead of being cooped up in her room all day—or risking the chance of happening upon Mr. Honeysett in his home—Morvoren had taken the first opportunity to enjoy a walk out of doors.

Unfortunately, she’d overestimated the wellness of her ankle, and by the time she was halfway up the pathway on the northern side of the cove, the swelling in her foot had returned as it pressed angrily against the side of her boot.

“Just take one step at a time,” she muttered to herself, leaning heavily on the cane and taking her time to traverse up the steep incline.

She didn’t think she’d make it all the way back to the Honeysetts’ home if she turned around now. But if she kept moving forward, she was sure to find a bit of respite at the top. There, she could spend the entire day recuperating if she needed to. After all, she didn’t have anything else to do.

By the time she reached level ground with the view of Tristwick behind her, the throbbing in her ankle had caused her stomach to turn.

Rest. She needed to rest.

Before her, the pathway diverged into an upper route that overlooked the other, lower path. Desperate to not step another foot onto an incline, she limped toward the lower path and settled down onto a large boulder that protruded from the cliffside in a makeshift seat.

Her ankle moaned up at her, so she scooted back on the rock just enough to swing her leg up, gingerly propping the injured ankle on the boulder beside her.

Blood still pulsed in heavy heartbeats through the appendage but being off of the foot was a blessed relief. Perhaps she shouldn’t have walked so far. If she wished to be fighting fit for Zennor and the Prouts’ apothecary shop, she really needed to behave more wisely.

She leaned back against the side of the cliff, drawing in soothing breaths as she took in the sight before her. From her vantage point, the hamlet of Tristwick was no longer visible, but the entirety of the vast sea was.

Far on the horizon, dark clouds gathered once more, a sure sign that autumn had arrived, bringing with it its usual storms. But closer to Tristwick, the whole sea was lit in bright shades of blue. Directly below the sun, the light hit the shifting water like stars scattering the night’s sky, shimmering and twinkling by the hundreds.

St. Ives—at least what she had seen of it—was beautiful of its own accord. But Tristwick…she’d not seen such beauty offered in years. It reminded her of where she’d grown up farther north, near St. Agnes. She and her parents would take nightly walks on the beach, searching for seashells or hopping over incoming waves.

Then Uncle had moved his seining company closer to them. Mother had warned Father not to become too entangled with her sister’s husband. But Father never did learn to heed his wife’s admonitions.

A hint of voices on the wind caught her attention, and she turned her head to the sound in a panic. Was it seiners? That awful Mr. Cardy coming to end her life because she was a sea-maid?

She looked around for a place to hide, but if those approaching chose to take the lower pathway, there was no way she would not be seen.

She leaned closer against the cliffside, holding her breath, waiting, listening, for any recognition of the voices. One was female, the other was…was that Mr. Honeysett?

Her pulse slowed, the tightness around her chest easing.

“Last evenin’ was nice, wasn’t it?” the female voice said, growing louder. “I do wish we could’ve spent more time together, though.”

“’Tis difficult when we ’ave to fish at dusk.”