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She searched his eyes for any hint of hesitation, but she could find nothing but sincerity in their depths.
He smiled, standing back to don his jacket before offering his arm to her. She took it, and together, they walked across the rock. The sun had halfway set, in a world of both sky and sea—just how Morvoren felt walking beside Trevik now.
“Thank ye.”
She glanced up at him. “For what?”
“For not slappin’ I this time.”
A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. “So ye admit, then, that ye were kissin’ me that day aboard your lugger?”
He gave her a knowing look. “Per’aps I did enjoy it.” He straightened. “Once I found out ye’d survived.”
She laughed again, and together, they progressed toward Poppy and Mrs. Honeysett.
They moved in silence, a perfect peace Morvoren hadn’t known could exist settling around them.
The feel of his kiss still lingered on her mouth, and she pulled her lips in to hide the smile refusing to leave her. He’d been so good to her that evening. Patient and kind. Considerate and forgiving. He’d even shared more about his father.
Her stomach tightened at the thought of that dreadful seiner betraying the elder Mr. Honeysett in such a way. She couldn’t believe anyone could be so terrible.
Then again, she could. It sounded exactly like something Uncle would do.
Her heart dropped. No, she was being ridiculous. There was no possible way that he…that Uncle…
An odd ringing occurred in her ears, drowning out the ocean, causing her to forget the feel of Trevik’s arm beneath hers, though she still held onto him.
Don’t ask him, she begged herself. Don’t ask the question ye don’t want to know the answer to.
And yet, her tongue had always had a mind of its own.
“Trevik,” she began, forcing a light tone, though darkness clouded her vision, “when did your father make his agreement with that seiner?”
He gave her an odd look. “Nearly seven years ago.”
Her throat tightened. Seven years. That was how long ago…But then, surely it wasn’t the same location. “And it was here in Tristwick? Or…or St. Ives?”
“No, not at all.”
Relief rushed through her limbs, weakening them to the point that she could hardly take another step.
Then Trevik continued. “The seiner reached out to ’im all the way from Mevagissey. Said ’e was hopin’ to expand.”
No. No, no, no. Morvoren squeezed her eyes closed, turning her head away from Trevik as bile rose in her throat, a storm wreaking havoc in her heart.
Seven years ago. Uncle had lived in Mevagissey seven years ago, before moving to St. Ives, before clutching Father in his claws.
But it had to be a coincidence. It had to be.
“What…” She could feel his eyes upon her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze, her chin trembling and eyes blurring. “What was ’is name?”
“Truscott,” he said darkly. “James Truscott.”
Her uncle’s name on Trevik’s lips sank deep into her mind, chilling her to her core. And yet, was she truly surprised? Did she ever really think she could escape Uncle?
“Are ye well, Morvoren?”
She forced a smile, grateful for the darkness the sun setting had finally allowed her. “Yes. Just…tired.”
