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He pulled back, surprised at the sudden change in topic. “I know.”
“Then why have ye been avoidin’ me?”
He winced. Of course she wouldn’t beat around the bush. He longed to tell her the truth—that his crew was being pulled apart by her presence and that he was doing his best to straddle the line and keep them together—but how could he put such a burden on her shoulders after all she’d been through? “I ain’t avoidin’ ye. I’ve just been…busy.”
She scoffed. “If ye say so.”
He glanced up at her, noting the hurt behind her expression, and frustration suddenly surged throughout him. This time, however, it wasn’t directed at Miss Hollow. She had proven time and time again that she was no mermaid, but Edern was still blinded by superstition.
So why should Trevik have to be the one to suffer when Edern had taken issue with the woman? Surely Trevik could find a balance between helping Miss Hollow feel at home and helping Edern overcome his fears.
Either way, he’d have to try, or he’d never survive under the stress of keeping both of his worlds aligned and happy.
He faced her directly, speaking carefully so she would know he spoke the truth. “I be sorry,” he said. “I ’ave been avoidin’ ye, but that doesn’t mean I regret bringing ye back ’ere.”
She studied him for a moment, her expression unchanging, then suddenly, a smile broke out across her lips. “Well, I still don’t understand why ye be avoidin’ I, but I’m glad ye don’t regret me presence ’ere, Trevik.”
His name on her lips was his undoing. It sounded far too lovely, far too natural.
She walked away from him then, taking a few steps back. “Now I’ll leave ye to change your trousers.” She arched her eyebrows. “And no, I’ll not be spyin’ on ye as ye do so.”
He grinned despite himself.
She turned away and moved across the beach, her skirts raised to her calves as she limped across the sand.
Trevik blew out a breath, running his hand through his wet hair before shaking his fingers dry with a single flick. He could be friends with Miss Hollow while still maintaining that he didn’t have feelings for her—couldn’t he?
Or had he just made the biggest mistake of his life?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Trevik was exhausted. Instead of returning to the house where he knew Miss Hollow would be cooking dinner alone, he’d found a quiet place in the lofts above the cellars and hunkered down for a few hours of sleep.
He usually managed to catch enough on the lugger between shifts of shooting the nets, and then a few more in the early to late afternoon after the midday meal. But since Miss Hollow’s arrival in Tristwick, his schedule had been relentlessly interrupted.
He tossed restlessly aboard the Pilferer because of his unsettled crew, and he simply didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in his room at home when only Miss Hollow was present and his family wasn’t—especially because he knew what the crew would think of him.
Sleeping in the cellars upon a rolled-up fishing net would not pass for much longer, though. He’d simply have to discuss the matter with Mother so she might help them maintain propriety.
Knowing dinner was soon approaching, he emerged from the lofts, lumbered across the courtyard, exited the cellars, and sluggishly began the climb up the cliffside to his home. Mother and Poppy would have returned from Golowduyn by now, otherwise he wouldn’t have chanced seeing Miss Hollow alone.
He hadn’t been able to help himself earlier, teasing and doing whatever it took to coax a smile upon her lips. But now he feared what else he’d do if left alone with the woman for too long.
That thought accompanied him as he finally reached home, opening the door and being greeted by the comfortable, earthy scent of Cornish pasties.
“There ’e be,” Mother said, scurrying past the doorway to the kitchen as he closed the front door. “Wash up, Trev. The food be ready.”
He nodded, making for his room as he removed his jacket. As he walked past the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of Miss Hollow bending low toward the oven, her back toward him.
Swiftly, he averted his gaze and forced his mind on the lugger, his men, the pilchards—anything to rid his mind of what he ought not be thinking about.
After splashing his face with the cool water from the basin and pitcher in his room, he ignored the beckoning call of his bed and returned to the kitchen.
He caught Miss Hollow’s eye in an instant, and she took in the sight of him, a knowing look in those emerald depths before she resumed setting the table. Had she been thinking of the moments they’d spent together on the beach only a couple hours before?
Before he could figure out for certain, Poppy greeted him with a smile and Mother, with a kiss to his cheek. “Morvoren’s made pasties for us,” she said. “’Tis a lovely surprise”
“A lovely surprise indeed,” he said. Miss Hollow’s gaze skirted toward him again, this time accompanied with a smile.
