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Or perhaps it had nothing to do with an outside force and everything to do with her own desires—to feel him close, to touch him.

His eyes caressed her face, and the breath slipped from her lungs as his focus settled on her lips.

Trevik’s ability to forgive, to look past her many shortcomings and her tumultuous past, were unmatched. Singing with him had captured her attention, stolen away her senses, and now, she wanted to do nothing more than kiss the man, to share in his affection and feel him close to her.

But she couldn’t. She knew her desires to choose a different life would remain the same, and giving in to a kiss would only mislead Trevik, make him think that there was some hope between them, some chance to be together, when there wasn’t.

With every ounce of power she had left within her, she tore her gaze away from his and stared down at her lap. “We ought to return to your mother and sister,” she mumbled in a whisper.

Trevik watched her for a moment, and her heart constricted. She didn’t want to hurt him, but surely kissing him would do so even more.

“Yes,” he finally agreed, clearing his throat.

Without hesitation, he stood, retrieving his jacket. The cool wind from the sea wrapped around her, as if Trevik had been the one thing to protect her from it.

Instead of leaving her as he ought to have, Trevik, stood by her side, offering his hand to her. She hesitated before sliding her fingers across his palm, warmth and energy shooting throughout her arms and unsettling her heart.

He helped her stand with a firm grip, his fingers lingering around hers as their eyes caught once again.

Desire swirled in her chest, along with something else—something far more powerful, something she couldn’t focus on.

His eyes flashed to her lips again before he looked to the rock they stood upon. She could see the battle within him, his fight between staying and leaving. How she wished she could help him, but she was fighting a battle of her own.

“Trevik,” she whispered, “I can’t…I don’t want…”

His dark eyes met hers. “I know. Ye don’t want the life of a fisherman’s wife.”

Hearing the words from his own lips made her pause. He understood. But then, how could he? He was a fisherman. His mother had been a fisherman’s wife. He was surrounded by the trade. And still, he understood her plight?

Confusion fused around her thoughts. How could he understand when she didn’t? For so long, she thought she knew what she wanted, and now, she couldn’t make sense of her desires. How could she not wish for a life with this man? This perfect, wonderful, patient fisherman.

He gave her a half-smile, though pain flickered in his eyes as he stepped away from her. “Ye be right. We ought to find me family.”

His family. Could she ever be a part of his family? Or was she going to allow her fears to consume her future as they had once consumed her past—and now consumed her present?

“Wait,” she whispered as he walked past her.

He stopped, keeping his focus on the sea. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing escaped. What could she say when confusion bound her tongue?

“Worry not, Morvoren.”

He tried to walk away again, but her hand shot out to catch his before he could leave.

“Morvoren?” she whispered. He’d said her name.

He closed his eyes, as if silently chastising himself. “Miss ’Ollow,” he corrected.

But it was too late. Her name on his lips solidified her desires.

“I know what ye wish for,” he said. “’Tisn’t a life with I.”

“How can ye know what I wish for, when I don’t even know what I want any longer?” she asked.

“I thought ye said…” he began.

“I know what I said. But now, with ye…I hardly know.”

Wariness still tinted his dark eyes, but she couldn’t blame him. After all, she’d been adamant that everything about his trade repulsed her. Even still, with all of her intolerance, Trevik had helped her, encouraged her, and forgiven her.