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“Blast!” she grunted, tugging the finger free and retying the mesh.

Trevik chuckled beside her without looking up. “Flustered, are ye?”

She ignored him, unable to respond without losing out on another tie. With a glance at his work, her heart dropped, then picked up at twice the speed. He had five left—she had two.

“Come, Morvoren, work more quickly,” she encouraged herself.

Her elbow brushed against his again, but this time, he didn’t apologize. How the devil could she win with fire shooting up her arm each and every time they touched each other?

He only had four left. Three left. Two.

A giddy laugh escaped her lips as she moved the hemp around the existing mesh of her final knot, but when Trevik gently nudged her to the side, she lost hold of the string with a gasp.

“Ye cheated!” she cried out.

He laughed. “I didn’t.”

She nudged him back in retaliation, warmth blossoming in her heart and burgeoning through her limbs. “Yes, ye did.”

Not willing to be outdone by a cheater—as charming and as handsome as he was—Morvoren reached over with her free hand and tugged the string away from his grip.

He scoffed in dismay, and she laughed, moving her body partially between him and the net, all while attempting to finish her mending.

Trevik tried to nudge her out of the way, but she held firm.

“Ye ought to give this last one to I for free,” she said.

“Is that ’ow ye go about life, expectin’ things for free?”

He reached around her with both arms over hers, preventing any tying at all, and she half-yelped, half-laughed in surprise as he lifted her into the air.

“This isn’t fair!” she breathed, her laughter causing her eyes to blur with tears. She struggled to maintain hold of reality as his strong embrace infused warmth throughout her body.

His deep chuckles in her ear seemed to lift her higher from the ground than even his arms. “I’m just bein’ resourceful, that be all.”

She struggled to break free, though only because she was expected to. In truth, she could have remained for hours in his arms, enjoying the feel of his controlled strength, the scent of lemons rushing past her nose.

He shifted his footing, turning her around and depositing her on the opposite side of him before finally releasing her. Swiftly, he whirled around and returned to his section.

Her head spun with elation, and she scrambled toward her own area, but he shifted his body, preventing her progression.

“’Tisn’t fair!” she laughed, still trying to reach past him, for she could hardly lift the man as he’d lifted her.

Finally, he finished his last knot and swung around with a triumphant laugh, arms raised high in the air. “Victory!”

“Victory? Ye can hardly call it that,” she said, feigning disappointment. How could she feel the least bit disheartened when her heart trilled in such a way?

She stared up at him, his hands lowering to prop against his hips, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. In their tousle, his kerchief had loosened and hung limply round his neck, the top button of his shirt popping open.

Her eyes dropped to the top contours of his chest. She didn’t have to wonder if they were as formed and firm as the rest of him.

The air thickened around them, as if a heavy fog had rolled in from the sea, drowning out all other distractions.

She felt his gaze on her. Slowly, she trailed her eyes up his throat, past the ridges of his neck, and over the shadow of facial hair spread across his jawline, until finally, she settled on his eyes.

His smile had faded away, just as hers had, leaving his lips parted as he breathed more smoothly.

After she had touched him in the kitchen last week, Morvoren had made it a point to keep her distance from the man, knowing if a simple hand across his mouth had tripped up her heart so fiercely, what would something else, something more do?