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Mother still hesitated. “The Bosankos be raisin’ a right large pig. Per’aps we could give ’em the pastry for the pig to eat in exchange for a bit o’ bacon when the time comes?”

Finally, Miss Hollow lowered her gaze. “That be well enough I s’pose.”

Trevik had watched the entire exchange in silence, his plate still positioned before him. As humorous as the situation was, he could feel Miss Hollow’s dismay. She really had been trying to help.

Mother moved toward her, raising her chin with her finger. “Cheer up, deary. ‘Tain’t all bad.” With an encouraging smile, she motioned to Poppy. “Will ye ’elp me take this to the Bosankos?”

Poppy jumped up immediately, she and Miss Hollow helping Mother scoop out the insides of the pastries into a separate bowl.

“Don’t forget Trevik’s,” Miss Hollow said.

Mother went for his plate, but after another glance at Miss Hollow’s red cheeks, the sorrow pulling her lips down, he held up his hand. “I’ll be finishin’ mine, thank ye.”

“Suit yourself,” Mother said, then she waved Poppy forward. “We’ll be back in just a moment.”

Miss Hollow stared at Trevik in disbelief, the two of them left alone in the kitchen as she stood before his seat at the table. “Ye can’t be serious about eatin’ that.”

“’Course, I be.” To prove his point, he took another bite.

“Ye’ll make yourself sick with that much salt in ye.”

He shrugged with a swallow, the salt coating his throat as it slid down at a snail’s pace. He attempted to cough with his mouth closed, but a bit of the food sputtered out.

“Delicious,” he muttered with an exaggerated wince.

Her green eyes danced as she fought a smile. “Ye be a cruel man.”

She reached for his plate, but he slid it out of her grasp. “I ain’t done,” he protested, taking another bite.

After chewing, he smacked his tongue and reached for his glass of brandy. “Ye know, ’tis nearly edible with somethin’ to wash it down.”

She released a scoff, though a smile finally played about on her perfectly arched lips.

Not perfectly arched lips, just lips. Plain old lips that hadn’t felt the least bit soft when he’d breathed the life back into her those many days ago.

“Just for that, I’ll not allow ye to take another bite,” she said. She leaned forward, attempting to take the plate again, but he shifted his body in front of it.

“Don’t ye know you’re not s’posed to take a man’s plate o’ food ’fore ’e finishes it?”

“Ye aren’t goin’ to finish it,” she said.

“I don’t know why ye be goin’ on about ’ow awful they be. I’ve ’ad worse, I promise ye that.”

“That may be so, but ye’ve certainly had better.”

He glanced up at her with a feigned wince. “’Twouldn’t be difficult now, would it?”

Surprise laughter erupted from her lips, as lilting and as calm as the sunshine at dusk.

He moved a forkful close to her lips, offering her another taste, but she held out her hand. “No, please! Stop!”

The food was beginning to hunker heavily in the pit of Trevik’s stomach, but he wouldn’t stop. Not if it meant he could see more of that dazzling smile.

He swallowed another mouthful, his nostrils flared with exaggeration. But when the salt triggered his gag reflex, he no longer had to pretend as the food nearly reappeared on his plate.

“That be a close one,” he breathed, taking another sip of brandy.

She laughed again. “Ye be terrible, ye know? I tried to make ’em right. Ye just got in my head down there on the beach.”