Page 66

She’d only taken a few steps away from the rock when she glanced back to the water, hoping to assure her presence had remained unnoticed. Unfortunately, Trevik decided to look up at that very moment, and their eyes locked.

She froze, and his pace slowed as surprise registered across his features.

Foolish girl. Why had she looked back at him? Now she didn’t know what to do. Walk away without a word? Wait for him to reach her? Whatever she did, she needed to stop staring at the formed lines across his abdomen, chest, and shoulders.

Heavens, but all those years aboard that lugger had done him good.

His hand raised in greeting. “Afternoon,” he said, his voice carrying across the wind only slightly above the rushing waves.

Now she’d have to stay. If she left after his greeting, he would surely know she was ruffled by his appearance—which, incidentally, she shouldn’t be. She was living with the man, for heaven’s sake. He could practically be seen as her brother.

And yet, as he continued his advancement toward her, his shoulders subtly shifting back and forth as he walked, she knew he was nothing like a brother. Not with the way her heart flapped wildly about her chest like a sparrow caught in a net.

“Afternoon,” she finally returned, forcing a light tone. “Havin’ a swim?”

He nodded, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, seawater dripping from his lower lip. With eyes averted, he responded. “I thought I might as well. The water won’t be this warm for much longer.”

He finally left the water’s reach, standing between her and the sea with a glance behind her shoulder. “Are ye out ’ere to do the same?”

“Oh, no,” she instantly replied. “I was simply walkin’.”

His eyes dropped to her portmanteau then back to her. Silent, he awaited an explanation—an explanation she didn’t have.

“Very well,” she conceded, “I was out here for a swim.”

Humor lit his eyes, though it vanished in a moment, and he took to fidgeting again. “Well, I’ll leave ye to it.”

He made to walk past her, but she shook her head. “Oh, I’ll not be swimmin’ now.”

He paused, looking at her for another explanation. Why was he behaving so strangely? Had he no teasing word to say to her?

“I just…have things to do,” she said.

He gave her an odd look, but she didn’t say anything further. After all, how could she explain that there was no chance she was going to undress with Trevik nearby—or watching from the cliffside as he left Tregalwen?

Her eyes darted to the straight line his shoulders cut, sun glinting off the wet ridges. When she met his gaze once more, his lip twitched, as if to fight off a smile.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, setting them aflame. He had to have seen her admiring him, what other explanation was there for the confidence that now lit his eyes?

She blew out a breath. What was the world coming to, now that she, Morvoren Hollow, admired a fisherman?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Trevik had planned to do as his crew suggested. He would never be near Miss Hollow unless Mother or Poppy was present. He would never be seen speaking with her in public. He would prevent their friendship from growing, would never admit to how he respected her standing up to her tyrannical uncle, and would never again admire her green eyes and golden hair.

Then she’d watched him come in from the sea, and his determination to remain far, far away from her had slipped through his fingers as swiftly as water filtered through a drift net.

Even now, he could see the fight within her to maintain her focus on his face, but her eyes continued to graze across his shoulders and dart down to his chest.

He would never wish to make a woman uncomfortable with his state of undress—which was why he always swam in seclusion. But that was just it. Miss Hollow was not uncomfortable. She was appreciating him. He could see it clear as day in her expression.

Such knowledge should have shaken sense into his mind and sent him straight home. Instead, pride swelled within him, raised his beaten down shoulders, and placed a long-overdue smile to his lips.

To have a woman as stunningly beautiful as Morvoren Hollow find something to esteem about him, a humble fisherman—a fisherman she critiqued and found constant flaws in—was more than satisfying. And he couldn’t help but allow his pride to play along with the woman further.

Besides, none of his crew were present at the moment, so no harm could be done.

“So,” he began, “ye didn’t come out ’ere for a walk, then?”