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Mrs. Honeysett soon returned from her short walk with the Causeys, then the three of them moved together as a family across the beach.

As a family.

Morvoren shook her head. She kept doing that, lumping herself in with the Honeysetts, calling them a family when she’d not earned the right to do so.

Truth be told, she hadn’t felt so close to having a real family again since Father had changed and Mother had died. Was she being a fool by trading her relationship with these women for a shop or workhouse in Bodmin?

“Trevik!” Poppy exclaimed. “I didn’t think ye’d be joinin’ us this evenin’.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Morvoren’s heart skittered across her chest at Poppy’s words. He wasn’t supposed to join them that night. After all, he’d been avoiding Morvoren as much as she’d been avoiding him.

But as she glanced over her shoulder, the man strode toward them in the sand, his hair lazed across his brow from the wind, shirtsleeves billowing and jacket tossed easily over one arm.

She wanted to keep going, to pretend that she hadn’t seen him, but when Mrs. Honeysett and Poppy stopped, she was obliged to do so as well.

His dark eyes settled on Morvoren as she watched him approach. He gave a simple nod in greeting, but she looked away without a response. She didn’t want to speak with him. It was too painful, knowing he wanted her gone. And though she understood his reasoning why, that hardly made the matter any easier.

“Ain’t ye tired, Trevik?” Poppy asked as he reached them. He stood beside Morvoren, and she shifted discreetly away from him. “Ye must not ’ave slept for long.”

He glanced to his mother. “No, I…couldn’t sleep. I thought to join ye all out ’ere this evenin’ instead.”

Mrs. Honeysett was watching her son with a knowing smile, but before Morvoren could decipher what her look meant, Poppy continued.

“We be that glad ye joined us,” she said. “I bet ye be ’appy to not ’ave to fish tonight. Just look at that sunset.”

“Ye forget I can see the sunset at sea, Popp.”

Poppy scrunched up her nose, her freckles nearly disappearing in the slight folds of her skin. “Oh. Well, at least ye don’t ’ave work to get in the way o’ this one.”

The scent of lemon drifted toward Morvoren as Trevik’s gaze settled on her once again. She merely turned her head the opposite direction and watched the waves herself.

“Collectin’ more shells?” he asked, motioning to Poppy’s reticule.

Poppy nodded. “And we be nearly finished. Ye can ’elp, now ye be ’ere.”

She described the shells she was still looking for, then continued along the beach, her family and Morvoren falling in step beside her.

To Morvoren’s dismay, Trevik moved to walk at her side, and an irritating itch arose within her. She did her best to listen to Poppy’s continual chatter, but Trevik’s presence did nothing but ruin the peace she’d felt before.

Why was he even there that evening? And why, after spending so long avoiding her—and she avoiding him—did he choose to walk beside her?

Folding her arms and tugging her shawl closer to her person, she peered down at the sand, willing herself to look for shells instead of thinking anymore on the man.

But when his deep voice reached her ears, she cringed.

“Are ye cold?” he asked as Poppy continued speaking with Mrs. Honeysett.

Morvoren blinked. Was his question out of concern or was he simply making conversation? “No,” she responded simply, turning to listen to Poppy instead. She was infinitely more interested in what Poppy had to say than Trevik.

“That shawl won’t keep ye warm once the sun lowers,” he continued.

Why was he so concerned with her well-being now? Or were her actions alone a burden to him?

His words picked at her patience. Was this to be their relationship from now on—Trevik pushing her to leave Tristwick while in front of his crew, then being civil and conversational only when they were alone?

Well, she wouldn’t stand for it. Not any longer.