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And now, as she peered up at him, the truth in his eyes was evident. He did feel something for her, just as she felt something for him—something strong and powerful that coursed through her as warmly and thoroughly as the blood in her veins.

“Trevik,” she whispered, but she could say nothing more, his eyes delving into her soul.

He drew a step toward her, then another and another until there was only a breath between them.

Still, tethers held her back, worries from their last meeting infiltrating her mind. “What about your crew?”

He shook his head. “It matters not what they think any longer. I be finished takin’ their advice for what I want with me own life. I’ve the right to choose. Just as ye do.”

“And…what do ye choose?”

“Ye already know what I choose, sea-maid.” A half-smile spread across his lips, and he dropped his jacket haphazardly onto the rock. Slowly, he reached up, caressing her face with his fingers as soft as a whisper.

His caress was so gentle, the love in his eyes so apparent, that Morvoren knew in an instant what, rather, whom, he had chosen. Her eyes filled with moisture, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“Are ye all right?” he whispered, brushing the moisture away with a thumb.

She could only nod, raising her chin to better see him. She had never been better, she had never felt such a swelling in her chest, her heart overflowing with love.

His eyes moved between hers, then a moment later, they fell to her lips. Her mouth parted, and her breathing grew shallow as he neared.

He hesitated, his breath on her lips. Was he questioning his decision to draw closer to her? Worrying about what it would mean for their future?

Morvoren couldn’t deny that she’d had the same worries, but now all she could think of—all she desired—was Trevik’s kiss on her lips.

She reached up, slowly sliding her hands up his waistcoat before settling on the lapels. Curling her fingers around the fabric, she gave the slightest pull toward her.

That was all Trevik needed, for in the next moment, his firm lips pressed against hers.

Warmth wrapped around her limbs, his breath against her cheek as his mouth lingered against hers. A dizziness swam through her mind so greatly, she feared falling from the rock into the waves of the sea. But Trevik held her firmly, securely—yet more tenderly than she’d ever been held, as if she were the most important person in the world.

And she knew in that moment, that to Trevik Honeysett, she was.

He pulled back briefly, only to tip his head farther to the side and continue their kiss, a kiss she returned without hesitation. She moved her hands from his lapels, sliding them up until her fingers became tangled in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, their bodies drawing closer together.

A deep moan sounded in the center of his chest, vibrating against her own. His arms slipped around her waist, his hands pressed against the small of her back as he pulled her in.

Their kiss deepened, and she struggled to maintain hold of reality. This was a fisherman she was kissing, after all.

And yet, she found that she cared less and less about that fact. After all, he was so much more than a simple fisherman. He was her rescuer. Her confidante. Her friend. And somewhere along the way, she’d fallen in love with him.

Her fears slipped away of attaching herself to the trade, of Trevik becoming like Uncle or Father, only now realizing the ridiculousness of such worries. Trevik had more than proven himself to her with how generous he was, how loyal he was.

Could she truly bury her fears once and for all and accept a life she’d said she never wanted and turn it into the life she’d always desired—a life full of love, laughter, and the sea?

As if on cue, Poppy’s giggling drifted toward them above the sound of the sea, interrupting the perfect world they’d created between them, and Trevik pulled back.

Instantly, they looked to where the sound of Poppy’s laughter had come from, but she was still nowhere in sight.

Morvoren glanced back to Trevik, his eyes already upon her, and she smiled shyly, dipping her head.

“I s’pose we really ought to get back to them now,” she murmured.

His hands moved from the small of her back, resting at her hips. “Indeed. If Poppy sees us, all o’ Tristwick’ll know what we been doin’.”

She rested her hands on his chest. “And does it matter now if they know?”

“Not to I.”