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“Thank ye for your ’elp with the net.”

A half-smile spread across her lips. “’Twas the least I could do after makin’ the holes in the first place.” A flicker of sorrow flashed across her features, then she turned on her heel and left down the stairs with Mother’s basket in hand.

As her footsteps slowly retreated, Trevik blew out an unsteady breath. This was for the best. Not kissing her was for the best. Dismissing her was for the best.

Or so at least he tried to convince himself.

* * *

That night, Trevik was mostly silent during dinner, excusing himself early to arrive at the docks before dusk and the rest of his crew. He simply couldn’t bear being in Miss Hollow’s company any longer.

She’d behaved as if nothing untoward had occurred between them—smiling and laughing with his mother and sister and speaking with Trevik nonchalantly. But, he’d been unable to do the same, barely managing a single smile and sentence throughout the meal.

As his men began to arrive at the Pilferer, Trevik greeted them with tentativeness, as well. Edern and Jowan still weren’t speaking with him, though the Roskelleys had appreciated Trevik’s efforts in convincing the others that Miss Hollow was not to be feared.

Unfortunately, Edern’s superstitions and naysaying had slid their way into the skipper, Enyon Penna, and his daughter, Mary. Trevik had been asked to postpone the meal they were supposed to share together until further notice, no doubt because of Miss Hollow staying with the Honeysetts.

His friendship with Mary had strained, but it was no great loss to him. He and the girl had never had much in common anyway. But the burden it was putting on the other friendships throughout Tristwick was beginning to take its toll on Trevik and his nerves.

If the worst happened and Edern and Jowan left their work aboard the lugger, the loss would be devastating. Fortunately, most of the men seemed to be letting that sleeping dragon lie, for they knew they had to fill their bellies for winter, and getting along well enough aboard the lugger was the only way to do so.

Gryffyn, of course, had remained on Trevik’s side. The man reached the lugger last, a grim expression to his face as he pulled Trevik back down to the dock to speak with him.

“Ye should know,” he said in low tones, “Edern saw Miss ’Ollow go into the loft with ye this afternoon. ’E be tellin’ others that ye’ve been lyin’ to ’em.”

Trevik groaned, his heart sinking. When would his crew believe him that nothing was between him and Miss Hollow? But then, could he truthfully say such a thing now when he’d almost kissed the woman?

Gryffyn’s wary gaze shifted to curiosity at Trevik’s sustained silence, but Trevik swiftly looked away. He wasn’t about to give away any knowledge that would help Edern’s case.

And yet, when he turned away from the lugger, he noticed that Gryffyn’s eyes were not on Trevik at all. Instead, he focused on the very woman from their conversation heading toward them that moment.

“Blast,” Trevik muttered under his breath. “This ain’t goin’ to ’elp.”

Miss Hollow strode forward with a basket in her hands, a blue cloth draped over the top of it. Her skirts rippled against her legs from the soft, sea breeze, and tendrils of her blonde locks blew back from her face.

As she greeted those aboard the lugger and those still standing on the dock, a gentle smile played about her lips.

“Evenin’,” she said softly. She lifted a tentative gaze toward Trevik, then faced the others.

Thankfully, she stopped on the dock and didn’t attempt to move farther. Edern would have insisted they burn the lugger to a crisp, then send it to the bottom of the sea if she’d boarded the boat again.

“Ready for your night o’ work?” she asked.

A few men aboard the lugger mumbled in response. Edern squinted his glare so tightly, his eyes nearly disappeared. Jowan merely folded his arms with an impassive look, though his eyes had yet to waver from Miss Hollow’s.

Trevik knew he ought to say something, but memories of their near-kiss, of her flawless skin beneath his fingertips, rendered him speechless. How was he to behave with the woman in front of all of his men?

“I believe we do be ready, ma’am,” Gryffyn responded kindly, glancing at Trevik. No doubt he wondered why Trevik wasn’t saying a word.

Morvoren must have wondered the very same, for her uncertain look flicked to his once again.

Trevik could only muster a strained smile, worry plaguing his thoughts. No matter how he acted, his behavior would be judged. And if they asked Trevik if he truly did have feelings for the woman…he wasn’t so sure how he would respond.

Matters would be far better if he urged her to leave. “What can we do for ye, Miss ’Ollow?” he finally forced out.

Uncertainty flashed across her features. How he wished to settle her nerves, to give her some indication that he would be happy to see her anywhere else but near the lugger and his crew. How he wished to tell her that he thought she looked perfectly lovely in the waning light of the sun, her hair glowing pure white at the ends.

Instead, he remained silent.