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Morvoren could not help but delight in Mr. Honeysett’s squirming.

“What are ye doin’ up ’ere?” he questioned, still speaking from above. “’Sides spyin’ on I.”

“Spyin’?” she asked in mock horror. “How dare ye accuse me o’ such. I was merely sittin’ here, enjoyin’ me view o’ the sea when ye and your sweet’eart there stopped right above me so I could hear every…last…word.” She emphasized her final words with deliberate pauses, forcing her look of innocence to remain.

His frown increased. With swift steps he disappeared from her view, and she wondered if, perhaps, he’d had enough of their conversation and was now returning home.

In a few short moments, however, he appeared on the lower pathway before her.

“Mary Penna and I ain’t sweet’earts,” he stated.

“I must say, that be more logical,” she said. “I’ve been wonderin’ just ’ow ye were able to capture that woman with your, well, your remarkable flirtin’ up there.”

His jaw twitched. This was just too delightful.

He studied her for a moment, his eyes dropping to her elevated ankle. “Ye’ve ’urt yourself again, ’aven’t ye?”

She ignored the heartbeat in her ankle. “No.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I do wish ye’d rest so your foot would ’eal.”

“That be kind of ye.”

“Then I might not be beholdin’ to ’elpin’ ye walk every day.”

She raised a satirical brow. “And here I was thinkin’ ye enjoyed helpin’ I. But worry not. Come this Saturday, I’ll be out o’ your hair for good.”

He narrowed his eyes. “The coach only travels to Sennen on Mondays.”

She paused. “Did your mother not tell ye?”

His silence answered her question. Oh, but she would enjoy breaking the news to him.

“The Kendrickses were kind enough to offer the use of their wagon to me on Saturday. Your mother has agreed to come along and promised that ye’d drive the wagon.”

“Oh, did she now?” He looked away, muttering. “As if I don’t ’ave anythin’ better to do with me time.”

Morvoren sniffed. “Don’t pretend like ye ain’t been dyin’ to get rid of I.” She paused, then raised her lips in a smile. “’Sides, with me gone, ye’ll be able to get back to your flirtin’ with Mary.”

He looked over his shoulder at the sea. “I wasn’t flirtin’.”

“What be that?” she asked in a louder voice, though she’d heard him clear as day.

“I said I wasn’t flirtin’.”

“Oh!” She blew out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I be ’appy to ’ear that. I thought ye be worse at flirtin’ than ye be at fishin’.”

“And what be the matter with me fishin’?”

“Well, ye did mistake I for a fish, did ye not?”

The muscles in his jaw worked once again as he clearly struggled to not retort.

Uncle had always said Morvoren had too sharp of a tongue. She’d gone without meals after telling Uncle just exactly how she felt about him and that lecher Mr. Foss.

“What do ye know ’bout flirtin’, anyway?” Mr. Honeysett asked with a toss of his chin toward her.

“Enough to realize that ye ain’t s’posed to sound as rigid as a frozen mackerel.”