Why did anger dance through the light in his eyes? He shook his head. “Why’ve you gone and done such a fool thing, anyway? You’re better than that.”

“Am I?” Perhaps her words came out with every ounce of bitterness she felt—and she let them. “Your brother would disagree.”

“My brother’s a blamed idiot, as everyone well knows.” Casek’s brows could hike upward with every bit as much disdain as hers could. “But as I’m not, I won’t for a moment believe your employer dragged you here against your will. You’d sooner resign whatever position you found than return. ‘Not until the sun falls into the sea’—isn’t that what you said when you stormed off?”

“Might have been.” And she’d meant it at the time. Still would have, if not for that last letter from Beth—and then the cessation of all letters from Beth. Some things were more important than her own mangled heart. “But as I certainly didn’t come home to discuss my business with a Wearne, I’ll just find another way over to Tresco, thank you, and—”

His bark of laughter interrupted her, and he waved a hand at the quay, filled with boats anchored in the shallow water but currently empty of people. “Take a look around, Benna. Unless you want to wait for someone else’s leisure, I’m your option just now. So . . .” He took a diagonal step back and held out a hand with a flourish toward his sloop. “Allow me, my ’ansum.”

She looked first to the paths leading here, willing some other acquaintance to come whistling her way. None. Which was just her luck, wasn’t it? Her fist squeezed tight again until her nails dug into her palms, and she sucked in a long breath. She’d like to declare that she’d sooner swim home than ride with him, or “borrow” one of the other crafts—something she’d done a time or two over the years. But this blighted dress was too restrictive to allow for rowing or sailing.

And this was for Beth. So, she hissed the breath out again and jerked forward, lifting her skirt out of the way and taking some small pleasure in the way her stomping steps sprayed a bit of wet sand onto his trousers. “Fine. But because you’re the only option.”

His chuckle drove home what every Scillonian already knew—that Casek Wearne never lacked for confidence, and no one else’s opinion of him ever made a dent in it.

She gathered her skirt a little higher to prepare to step into his boat, squealing a protest when hands landed on her waist and she was hoisted into the air. Though her feet were on the bottom of the boat a moment later and he let her go again, it didn’t keep her from spinning round and smacking him in the arm. “Brute.”