The Pirate

5

To Meredith's great relief, the next day dawned bright and clear and the weather promised to hold for at least the next five days. After their disastrous kiss the previous afternoon, she'd done all she could to avoid Griffin. She was as anxious as he was to get the trip under way and leave the embarrassment of her feeble attempts at seduction far behind.

What had ever made her think she might be able to entice him into something more than what they had? He'd slept beside her twice, yet he'd not made any move to seduce her. And every kiss they'd shared could be construed as nothing more than an expression of gratitude. Griffin Rourke didn't find her attractive in the least.

To keep her mind off her mortification, she began to make preparations for their trip to Bath the next day. Griffin walked with her down to the harbor to take a look at the small sailboat she had chartered, excited about the prospect of getting off the island. He made no mention of what had happened between them the previous afternoon and Meredith was convinced that he, too, wanted to forget.

While he examined the layout of the lines, she went to Jenny's General Store, a rambling white clapboard building on the water, for provisions for their trip.

A long porch shaded the side entrance, and the two rocking chairs and low bench were occupied with the usual morning group. Jenny's husband, the balding Hubey Hogue, had commandeered the head rocker. Early Jackson, the wiry, wizened owner of Happy Jack's Fishing Charters sat in the other rocker. Two younger members of the group, the bespectacled Lyle Burleswell and the flamehaired Shep Cummings, rounded out the group. Lyle owned the Sandpiper Hotel and Shep was the island's venerable handyman. They all sipped coffee out of a motley collection of chipped mugs, while they munched donuts and kept an eye on passersby on both the road and in the harbor.

"Morning, Meredith." Early tipped his captain's cap. "Hear you're chartering a sailboat for tomorrow."

Meredith smiled. The only way to keep a secret on Ocracoke Island was to take a vacation to the mainland. Even then, the rampant speculation about the trip was worse than whatever secret a person was trying to keep.

"Taking a trip to Bath," Hubey commented.

"With her friend," Lyle added.

"Griffin Rourke," Shep completed.

They all spoke as if their own particular revelation was the most startling. Tabloid television had nothing over the porch at Jenny's General Store. Even the most mundane subjects became exciting fodder for the island news service.

Meredith stepped up on the porch. "That's right. We're leaving at-"

"Dawn," Early said. "Weather's supposed to be just fine. No hurricanes in the forecast."

Lyle nodded. "We all know how you're bothered by bad weather," he said sympathetically.

"But it looks like you survived Horace with no worries," Shep said.

"But then, that was only a category one," Hubey concluded. "Nothing like Delia."

"I have some shopping to do," Meredith said as she reached for the screen door, anxious to escape the inquisition.

"Hey, we heard your boyfriend might be looking for work," Hubey said.

Meredith froze, her hand on the door. "What?"

"Yeah," Early said. "Tank Muldoon says your Griffin was asking about jobs on the island when he was in there a few days back."

"I guess Rourke's planning to stick around for a while," Lyle said.

Shep shook his head. "Jobs are hard to come by on the island."

"You tell your friend, Griffin, to come down to our dock as soon as you get back from your trip," Early said. "Me and the boys bought ourselves an old shrimper. We're going to haul it out and fix it up and sell it to a guy down Georgia way. If Rourke ain't scared of hard work, we can give him something to do and pay him for it."

"I-I'll tell him that. Thank you." Meredith quickly stepped inside the dim, cool interior of the store. Overhead, fans gently whirred from the low ceiling, mixing the smells of meat and produce with the salt air. Shelves stacked high with goods ran the length of the building, separated by narrow aisles. The old wooden floor creaked beneath her feet as she reached for a plastic basket from the stack beside the door.

Early's words echoed in her mind and she tried to fathom their meaning. Had Griffin finally resigned himself to staying? She shook her head. No, it couldn't be. Early had misunderstood. If Griffin had decided to stay, she would have been the first to know. She brushed the thought from her mind and focused on her shopping list.

"'Mornin', Meredith," Jenny called from behind the register. "Hear your boyfriend is looking for a job."

Startled, Meredith snatched a can of tuna and tossed it in her basket, then glanced over at Jenny. The storekeeper peered at her through the reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, a newspaper propped up in front of her. "Yes… he is," Meredith called.

She moved down the aisle, picked up a box of taco shells and studied the nutritional label distractedly.

"So, are you two planning to stay on the island for a while?"

"No," Meredith said, shoving the box back on the shelf and continuing down the aisle. "I mean, I'll be here through December, but I'm not sure how long Griffin will be staying." She peeked around the whole-wheat dinner rolls to find Jenny staring at her, a concerned frown wrinkling her forehead.

"You two having problems? Tank says your Griffin was hoisting a few the other night at his place. Said he was in the doghouse."

Meredith groaned inwardly. Living on this island was like having a hundred sets of nosy parents. From the day she'd set foot on Ocracoke again, she'd become part of a larger family, filled with people who had helped her father raise her all those years ago. Hubey and Jenny had given her her first after-school job. Early's wife, Millie, had taught her how to iron Sam Abbott's shirts. Lyle had lent her his collection of Civil War history books and Shep had teased her mercilessly from the time they'd entered the first grade together.

So how could she be angry with their prying? After all, they cared about her happiness. "Griffin and I are getting along just fine," Meredith said with a smile. Too fine, if the truth be told.

Her thoughts wandered back to the kiss they'd shared on her couch. She'd recalled the moment again and again, each time, searching for some clue to his true feelings. But her limited experience in the ways of passion gave her a distinct disadvantage.

She was nearly certain she'd seen desire suffuse his expression the instant before he kissed her. But then, it could have been boredom. And the kiss itself had been incredibly wonderful, deep and soul shattering, to say the least. But then, hehad drawn away with some ridiculous excuse about unseemly behavior and taking a walk. Suddenly, she wasn't quite sure what had happened between them.

One thing she did know was that the man knew how to kiss. When their lips had touched, she'd felt as if every ounce of his attention was focused on her mouth, his firm lips tempting her, his tongue offering her a taste of his soul. And his body… all that hard muscle and warm sinew, as though he'd been carved from sun-warmed granite…

"He is a handsome young man," Jenny called, "even if his hair is a bit long."

Meredith swallowed convulsively. "Yes," she said, her voice catching in her throat. "Yes, he is. Do you think he needs a haircut?"

Jenny pondered the question for a moment, then smiled slyly. "Naw. He looks mighty fine just the way he is." With that, thankfully, Jenny went back to her crossword puzzle and left Meredith to her shopping… and her fantasies.

She silently chastised herself. This would have to stop! She couldn't walk around all moony-eyed over the man. Griffin had made it perfectly clear that he would do everything in his power to get back to his own time. For days, he'd refused to consider the other alternative.

But she couldn't put Early's words out of her head. If they were true, maybe Griffin had changed his mind. Could he be responding to the undeniable attraction between them?

As Meredith grabbed a bag of mini-marshmallows, she attempted to ignore the blooming optimism that flooded her heart. She would not allow herself a single instant of hope. There couldn't be a future for them… especially after he learned that she might be the one responsible for bringing him here in the first place.

So Tank had told Early, she mused, quickly forgetting her resolve. And Griffin had told Tank he was looking for work-before Meredith had told Griffin that Kelsey had told herthat there might be a way for Griffin to get home. Meredith stopped in the middle of the produce section, dizzy from trying to sort out all the conversational connections.

Maybe she would do well to put the whole matter out of her mind. The fact was, as long as Griffin had hope, he would try to return. And as long as he stayed, she, too, would harbor a hope of her own. But for now, she'd have to keep her hope, and her fantasies, in check.

Ten minutes later, Meredith made her way to the tiny marina, a grocery bag clutched in each arm. As she walked down the dock, she caught sight of Griffin sitting in the cockpit of the twenty-five-foot sloop they'd rented. His attention was focused on a navigational chart he held out in front of him.

She stopped and slowly placed the bags on the dock, then straightened, her gaze coming to rest on Griffin. He was a devastatingly handsome man, there was no denying that fact. And Jenny hadn't been the only one on the island to notice. He'd elicited a number of appreciative stares, from sixteen-year-old schoolgirls to gray-haired grandmothers.

She watched as he brushed his wind-whipped hair back from his face, revealing a startlingly perfect profile. How could any woman help staring? His dark, brooding good looks were like a magnet to the eyes. She'd caught herself watching him so many times over the past few days, wondering whether she really knew him at all, or whether he was as he appeared-an enigma.

Even if he stayed, he'd never lack for feminine companionship. Merrie's heart twisted at the thought and all her self-confidence drained out of her body. How could she have thought she'd be able to hold his interest? She was a shy, boring history professor who had never been able to attract much more than a mild interest from the opposite sex.

"Too bookish" had been used to describe her on more than one occasion, and that came from men who spent just as much time with their books as she did! The descriptive "cold fish" and the ever-popular "painfully proper" had also been applied to her, according to Kelsey.

Meredith sighed. He was grateful for her help, and that was the limit of his feelings for her. She hadn't seen desire in his eyes, she'd seen gratitude. And all his talk about honor was simply a smoke screen so he wouldn't have to kiss her again!

He didn't find her sexually attractive in the least. She had waited for him each night, hoping that he'd need comfort and come to her. But when she awoke at dawn, she found the other side of her bed cold and empty. With a body as unremarkable as hers, was it any wonder he had thought she was a boy that first night?

"Merrie-girl!"

Meredith blinked hard, bringing her thoughts back to the present. She forced a smile and waved at Griffin, suddenly uneasy in his presence. Could he tell she'd been thinking of him?

He stood up in the cockpit. "She is a fine little sloop. With this boat, I could sail across the Atlantic and back by myself!"

"We're going to Bath," Meredith said, "and no farther."

He sent her a powerful smile and her knees grew weak. "Ah, but Merrie, I would show you the world, if I could. Come on board, and we'll sail away this very moment."

At his casual words, a tremble of uncontrolled regret shook her to the core. If only it were so simple. If only he wanted her. But no matter how far they sailed, nothing would change the fact that they were simply friends, two strangers who had been thrown together by fate.

"Come, Merrie, let's take a sail around the harbor. I need to practice."

With a hesitant nod, she picked up the groceries and headed toward the boat. Griffin deftly leaped onto the dock and took both bags from her arms, then helped her into the cockpit.

"All right," Merrie said. "You're the captain."

"And you'll make a fine first mate, Merrie-girl. Now, go forward and cast off that line for me."

Meredith arched her eyebrow at his suddenly stern manner, then did as she was told. Today, they would sail for fun. But tomorrow, they would sail to Bath, and once again they would try to find a way for him to return to his own time.

And if they succeeded, Griffin would be gone from her life. Forever.

The salt breeze skimmed across the water, kicking up sprightly whitecaps on the blue surface of the wide Pamlico River. Mare's-tail clouds trailed across the azure sky, the colors a reflection of the sea below, where their white-sailed sloop sliced through the water.

Meredith sat in the cockpit and watched Griffin steer the boat before the brisk wind. They'd been on the water since sunrise, sailing across the Sound and up the Pamlico River. After their sail around the harbor the previous afternoon, Griffin had easily adjusted to the new technology of the sloop, instinctively knowing which lines controlled which functions. She was right-sailing hadn't changed much in the nearly three hundred years that stood between them. But then, Griffin had spent most of his life on the water.

They passed the time in idle conversation, Meredith relating stories of the breezy days she'd spent on her father's shrimp boat, wrapped in a blanket, her nose stuck in a history book; and the sunny days they'd spent in the harbor, her father teaching her to navigate the little sailboat he'd built for her. He'd been a man who loved the water and she had inherited his fascination with all things seaworthy. But like her father, she was wary of the weather, always keeping one eye on the horizon, ready for the worst.

She had hoped that talk of her life would encourage Griffin to speak of his own. She knew of his father and mother, but was still left to wonder just who Griffin Rourke really was.

Meredith sighed inwardly and stared up at the sky, watching a gull dip and sway on the wind. Though the day hadn't been conducive to enlightening conversation, at least it was perfect for sailing. Out on the Sound, she had bundled up against the wind. But once they reached the sheltered waters of the Pamlico River, the afternoon sun had warmed her. They ate a picnic lunch while still under sail near Pamlico Point, the place where the river emptied into the Sound.

It was nearly dinnertime when they made the turn into Bath Creek, a wide tributary more aptly compared to a river than a stream. The shallow draft of the sloop made navigating simple, but Meredith kept her eyes on the charts, anyway. The colonial town sat on the water's edge, much as it had in the early 1700s, when it served as the first port of entry and the seat of colonial government in North Carolina.

Griffin seemed suddenly still, staring beyond the bow of the boat at the small waterside town. The breeze fluttered in his hair, the only sign that he was a mortal man and not some marble likeness of an ancient sea god.

"Do you recognize anything?" she asked softly.

He nodded slowly. "Some. The shoreline looks a bit changed."

"More than a few storms have roared through here in the past three centuries," she explained.

"There are more houses in some places and less in others, but they have changed also." He cocked his head toward the bridge that spanned the creek ahead of them. "And that wasn't there."

"None of the structures from your time have survived. But there are some clues that have been found." She pointed off to the starboard. "Blackbeard had a home over there, on Plum Point, isn't that right?"

He nodded again, silently studying the wooded area. "He has built himself a fine home, for a pirate," Griffin murmured, as if he could see the house in his mind's eye. "Teach fancies himself quite a gentlemen. He hosts lavish entertainments at his home. And he boasts that there is not a home in the colony to which he wouldn't be welcome for dinner." The last was said with more than a trace of bitterness.

She found it so strange to hear him speak of Blackbeard as if the man were still alive. He didn't say much, but Meredith could see his anger toward the pirate simmering near the surface. Still, she felt a familiar sense of satisfaction in his simple explanation, the same feeling she had when she found an original source to confirm one of her historical suppositions. Everything he'd told her so far had slipped into the annals of history without much dispute.

Suddenly, she wanted to know everything she could about Blackbeard. If speaking of the pirate might keep Griffin here longer, then so be it. She would ask all the questions she wanted, without guilt or remorse. And her book would be better for Griffin's time here.

She would write down everything she told him and they would talk for hours about his experience. And then, when all the questions had been asked, she would know that he had been brought forward to help with her work and not to encourage her fantasy. But would he then disappear from her life? Or had Griffin Rourke been brought here to stay?

"There is a depression in the ground, right over there," she said. "And ruins from a foundation. And in a shallow field between the point and Bath, there was a round brick oven which we think was used by Blackbeard to boil tar for caulking his ships."

"I know the oven you speak of," he said distractedly. "I have seen it many times. When the tar boils, it can be smelled for miles."

"It's not there anymore. So many tourists came to visit it, they trampled the farmer's field, so he covered the oven with dirt and plowed it over. You can also see the ruins of the foundation of Governor Eden's house over there." She pointed across the port side.

"This seems familiar, the land and the water, yet it is not."

"Do you think you can find the place where you fell in?"

"It is here," he said.

"Here?" Meredith asked.

Griffin moved to drop the sails. She scrambled to the bow and grabbed hold of the anchor and heaved it in, playing out the line until she felt the anchor hit bottom. The boat drifted and then slowly stopped as the anchor held. As she crawled back to the cockpit, she saw Griffin smiling at her.

"Why didn't you say something? I didn't realize this was the place that…" A rush of warmth flooded her body and for a brief instant, she lost herself in his pale blue eyes. "What?" she asked.

"What?"

"You're laughing at me," she said, the warmth now flushing her face.

"You are a fine sailor, Merrie."

"You find that odd?"

"For a woman. I find your sailing talents quite…useful, practical."

She glanced up at him. "Thank you for the roundabout compliment, Captain Rourke. And that has been my life's goal, to prove myself useful to a man."

He groaned and shook his head. "You have misunderstood me again. I also find it admirable. You are a woman of many talents, Merrie."

She jumped to her feet and dropped a mocking curtsy, then sat down again. "Aye, Captain, that I am."

Griffin secured the tiller then took a seat across from her. His gaze drifted past her, over the water to the town. "I know Bath Town as a much rougher place," he said. "It looks almost deserted now."

"The big ships don't come in here anymore, so there isn't much commerce-just a fine collection of historic houses, a lovely old church and about two hundred people. But I think it's one of the most beautiful and serene places in North Carolina. I've come here many times while researching my-" She stopped herself, realizing she'd nearly mentioned her book on Blackbeard. "Researching," she repeating.

"Well, we might as well be about our business now before the sun goes down." Griffin reached down and tugged off his deck shoes. Then he stood up and stripped off his shirt.

His chest gleamed under the late afternoon light, rippled muscle and hard flesh. Her fingers clenched spasmodically as she remembered her exploration of his body the last time he'd come to her bed. How she had wanted to touch him, to prove to herself that he was a flesh-and-blood man, a man who would respond to her touch, and not just the fantasy hero of her dreams.

He reached for the waistband of his trousers. She gulped hard. "Wha-what are you doing?"

"I'm going to get wet, Merrie-girl, the same way I did that night. Turn your head. I would not want to offend your tender sensibilities."

He tugged the trousers down along his narrow hips and she quickly closed her eyes.

"You can't just take off all your clothes and jump in!" she cried.

"And why not? If I can wear a dress on the main street of Ocracoke Village, certainly my nakedness in the middle of Old Town Creek would not cause eyebrows to rise."

She felt the boat rock slightly and then heard a splash. Slowly, she opened her eyes and peered overboard. He broke the surface right tinder her nose, water sluicing over his shoulders. Tiny droplets clung to his dark lashes, like diamond chips, and she found herself suddenly unable to catch her breath.

"Brrr, it's cold," he growled, shaking his head and scattering the diamonds across the blue water.

Lord, he was glorious, and even more so without clothes. She cursed her cowardice. She should have looked when she'd had the chance. After all, just when was the last time she'd seen a naked man. An image came to mind and she winced. The sight of Griffin in the buff would easily supplant thatmemory.

She tried to make out the details of his body through the wavering water, but then he kicked away and swam out from the boat with strong, sure strokes, his shoulder and feet breaking the surface. For a moment, she glimpsed his bare backside and the line at his waist that marked his deeply tanned back.

He stopped swimming about twenty yards from the boat, then turned back to look at her, lazily treading water as if he hadn't exerted himself in the least. "Well?" he called.

"Well what?" she replied. Did he want her to comment on his swimming skills or was he waiting for her to swoon at the sight of his naked body?

"This is the place and the time is about right," he said. "Do you see anything?"

"Not as much as I'd like to see," she muttered softly.

"What?" he called, frowning at her.

"What am I supposed to see?" she called. "What did you see that night?"

"I don't know. I was standing at the rail of the Adventureand I thought I heard someone behind me. I horned, and the next thing I knew, I was in your house, trussed up on your sofa."

"Well, maybe you should just swim around for a while," Meredith suggested. "Slowly," she added.

He did as he was told, circling the boat in a lazy crawl, his rippled back glinting wet in the diminishing light. She watched him for a long time, soaking up the sight of his nude body as it slipped through the water. The sun dipped lower on the horizon and then, in a red blaze, set behind the remains of Thistleworth Plantation, the home of the duplicitous Eden, friend to Blackbeard.

He stopped swimming a few yards from the boat, then brushed his wet hair back from his face. "Nothing is happening," he said.

"How do you feel?" Meredith asked.

She thought she heard him curse. He looked up at her. "Cold, wet, and nothing more."

Disappointment colored his voice and frustration was evident in his eyes.

"Maybe you should come back on board."

He glanced around once more, waiting, watching, then shrugged resignedly. With a knifelike movement, he kicked his feet out and submerged.

"I'm sorry, Griffin," she murmured. "But we tried."

Meredith waited for him to surface, but after fifteen seconds, he still hadn't come up for air. Thirty seconds passed, then sixty, and still he didn't come up.

Meredith leaned over the combing and looked into the water. "Griffin?" she called. "Griffin!" The last was a desperate shout, her voice echoing across the width of the river. A clock ticked in her head, multiplying her anxiety with each second he remained underwater.

Suddenly, a pair of wet arms circled her from behind. She screamed and twisted against the embrace. Griffin's deep chuckle sounded in her ear, sending a warm shudder through her body. "So ye thought I drowned, did ye?"

"Let go of me!" Meredith protested. "You're wet! And cold!"

He pulled her against him playfully, and she felt the subtle imprint of his body along her spine and backside. She squirmed in his arms until she faced him, then looked up into his eyes. Suddenly, the teasing smile faded from his face.

He bent his head and covered her mouth with his, his kiss swift and intense, his tongue plumbing the depths of her mouth until she felt as if she might lose consciousness.

She returned his kiss in full measure, running her hands along his damp chest and twisting them around his neck. He moaned deep in his throat and drew her hard against him until she could feel his desire spring up against her belly.

He did want her! Her heart sang and her senses whirled with the realization. Whether he was ready to admit it or not, he felt the same passion for her as she did for him! And at that moment, she realized that he had been brought here for a reason-to fulfill her fantasies.

Then, just as quickly as he'd covered her mouth with his, he drew back. He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "Damn, Merrie, you sorely tempt me," he whispered. "You must not allow this to happen again."

"Me?" she asked, breathless. "I-I don't understand."

"Do not ask me why, for I am not sure I would be able to explain. Call it a point of honor. I know you've encountered scoundrels in your past and I will not be counted among them. Your reputation will not be sullied any further than it already has."

"Sully?" Meredith blinked hard and stared up at him, completely baffled by his words. Though she didn't know much about men, she certainly knew that sleeping together in the same bed was worth more "sully" points than a simple kiss! Sure, he wasnaked now, but his state of undress didn't even enter into the picture. If he was worried about her reputation, he should have stayed out of her bedroom, not out of her arms.

"You are a passionate woman, Merrie, a woman of…worldly experience. And I know this will be difficult for you, but we must not allow ourselves these pleasures."

"Why not?" Meredith said quietly.

"I must leave you someday. I'm not sure when, but I vow I will not leave you with regret."

Meredith spun out of his grasp and snatched his trousers, then held them over her shoulder. "You'd better put on your pants." After he took them from her, she made her way back to the cockpit. She stared out over the water and considered his words.

If he was truly brought here to fulfill her fantasies, then why was he so determined to push her away? Why couldn't he give in to the feelings that were so obviously growing between them?

They'd almost exhausted their options. Until they figured out what had happened, and why, they were merely guessing at a method to return him to his own time.

Meredith closed her eyes and hugged her arms to her chest. If he'd been brought here to help in her research, maybe she ought to question him, to find out everything she could. Once that was done, maybe he'd be free to return.

And if Griffin had been brought here to make her fantasies a reality, to rid her of her virginity, the fastest way to solve that problem would be to-

She snapped her eyes open and bit back a groan. Maybe he'd been brought here to torment her. For if her work and her virginity were at stake, she wasn't quite sure she'd be willing to give him up for either! Though he wanted to return to exact his plan against Blackbeard, she couldn't help hoping that he'd stay, that he wouldn't find a way back.

Meredith cursed softly. So what was she to do? How was she to know the right course to take?

"Merrie? Are you all right?"

She shivered and rubbed her forearms, her eyes still fixed on a fisherman who was dangling a line off the bridge. "Are you dressed?" she asked.

"I would not have thought you such a Puritan, Merrie," he teased, trying to lighten the mood between them. He was acting as if nothing had happened between them at all. "You show your ankles, and even your knees, in public all the time."

"That's different." She turned around. "You shouldn't have scared me like that," she murmured. "I thought you'd drowned. And how did you sneak on board? The boat didn't even rock."

"An old pirate trick," he said. "Serves me well, don't you think?"

She forced a smile, trying hard to return his light-hearted banter, but her heart wasn't in it. "And have you crept on board many boats, wearing nothing but a smile, to accost women?"

He frowned in mock pensiveness, then grinned, the corners of his mouth curling up in a charming way. "Many, many women, Merrie-girl. But not a one quite like you."

Meredith stared at him, her gaze locked on his. She reached out and gently placed her palm on his bare chest, brushing away the moist sheen of river water. A frisson of heat stole though her fingers and up her arm, but she didn't pull away. "I'm sorry it didn't work, Griffin. Maybe we just didn't find the right place." But she wasn't truly sorry, for anything that kept Griffin with her could only make her happy.

"Perhaps," he said. "Yet I am beginning to wonder if we ever will find the end to this tangle."

"We will," she said, not really believing in the truth of her words. Meredith drew a deep breath. "I'm hungry. We can eat on board or we can row the dinghy to shore. There's an inn that serves dinner and we can spend the night there, if you like."

"I would rather stay on the water," he said. "I feel more at home out here."

Meredith watched as he made his way back to the bow. For a moment, things had become so simple between them, two people sharing a moment of passion. But then, the past sprang up like a great sea monster, rocking the boat and upsetting the easy balance they'd achieved… and reminding her that, no matter how much she wanted it, there was still a very good chance that Griffin would never be hers.

The first signs of dawn colored the eastern horizon a soft pink, bathing the landscape in an otherworldly light. Distant calls of waking birds echoed across the dark surface of the creek, their songs accompanied by the gentle slap of the water on the side of the boat. Griffin stood on the bow of the small sailboat, his gaze fixed on the twinkling lights from Bath Town, his fingers wrapped around the jib stay.

Merrie was sound asleep in the tiny cabin below, curled up in the port bunk. Though he'd tried, he couldn't sleep. He'd thought about crawling into the berth beside her and pulling her pliant body against his. With her close, maybe he could forget the demons that plagued his mind and find a few hours of rest.

But instead of taking shelter in her warmth, instinct told him to go back on deck, to watch and wait for some sign. He'd even dived in and circled the boat a few more times, hoping that he'd stumble upon a door to the past.

Griffin ran his fingers through his damp hair. The longer he stayed away, the more difficult it became to sustain his resolve. Somewhere, hidden deep in the past, the pirate Blackbeard waited. Yet now, the vision of Griffin's revenge seemed to be fading, as if a thick fog had descended on the past.

He stood on deck for a long time, watching the rising light glint off the water. His thoughts returned time and again to the woman who slept below, to her perfect face and her tempting body. And then, as if she'd been brought there by the sheer force of his will, he felt her presence behind him and he knew, without turning, that he was no longer alone.

Merrie stepped to his side, clutching a blanket around her shoulders against the damp morning breeze. "Are you all right?" she said. She placed her fingers on his arm and a surge of heat warmed his blood. "I woke up and you were gone."

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he replied, hearing the apprehension in her voice. She had thought he was gone, for good. Griffin cursed inwardly as guilt washed over him. For Merrie's sake, he had to find a way back. But though his mind was set on returning to his own time, he couldn't help wondering if what he was leaving was really what he was seeking… peace, a sense of well-being and the time to take a bit of joy from life.

That was all he really wanted. He'd been set on this course of revenge for nearly a year, without pause for anything, including his own happiness. And now, in this place and in this time, he'd found a brief respite, a few quiet moments to forget all that the pirate Blackbeard had wrought on his family.

"You're cold," she said. "Were you in the water again?"

He nodded distractedly as he stared at the shoreline. "In the dark, it almost looks right to me," he said. "I can nearly believe I'm there. I had a room at an inn that used to stand on that bit of land." Griffin pointed to the base of the bridge that now crossed Old Town Creek.

"It must be hard for you to be away from your home," she said.

Griffin shrugged. "My home is the sea, it always has been. And the sea hasn't changed at all in three hundred years."

"Haven't you ever thought about settling down? About marrying and having a family?"

He glanced at her, meeting her questioning gaze in the soft morning light. His sweet Merrie, always so direct, so interested in what was inside his mind and heart. "Once," Griffin replied, banishing the image of his son's tiny grave from his mind. "But then, it became clear that I did not deserve as much."

"I don't understand," Merrie said. "Why would you not deserve to be happy?"

"I live my life on my ship, Merrie. And a wife and family must stay on dry land. I would not make a good husband or a good father."

Meredith squeezed his arm. "Don't say that. How do you know until you've actually tried?"

Griffin turned his head and stared out toward the Pamlico. He should tell Merrie exactly how he knew. Yet speaking of his failure as a husband and father only brought back a rush of paralyzing guilt and pain. Merrie saw him as a good and honorable man, and what she believed of him mattered. "I know," he said softly, slipping his arm around her shoulder. He pulled her into the circle of his embrace and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

They stood that way for a long time, silently watching the sunrise, not needing to speak. Strange how he felt as if he'd known Merrie his whole life. They shared an inexplicable connection that transcended time and distance. Though he wanted to deny it, maybe destiny had thrown them together for a reason.

Griffin considered the notion for a moment. The theory made as much sense as any other explanation he had come up with. But then, perhaps he was simply trying to make excuses for himself, trying to find a reason to give up. Perhaps hecontrolled his own destiny and every errant thought of remaining with Merrie was putting him further from his task.

"I think you're wrong," she said softly.

"Wrong?"

"About being a good husband and father."

He laughed harshly. "You do not know me, Merrie. So don't make me into some mythical hero with a heart of purest gold."

"That's not what I meant," she replied. "But you are a good and honorable man."

He turned to her, probing her gaze with his. "Am I?"

"Yes," she replied.

Griffin reached out and ran a finger along her cheek. "Ah, Merrie-girl, you do not know me. If I am an honorable man, then why do I want to kiss you right now?"

She blinked in surprise. "I-I don't know," she murmured. "But maybe you should kiss me and find out."

Griffin shook his head. "You tempt me again, Merrie. Have a care or I will do precisely that."

She reached up and idly brushed his hair from his temple. "You're in my time, Griffin, not yours. And in the twentieth century, a kiss is just a kiss, and not a matter of honor."

"And because I am here, does that make me a different man?" he challenged. "For I do not feel different, not in my head nor in my heart. And you cannot expect me to live by your rules." Griffin took her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. "I do want you, Merrie. Lord help me, I do. But to take you would be unfair, for I can promise you nothing in return."

She put her arms around his waist and pressed herself against his chest. "You-you wouldn't take me. I would give myself to you, Griffin. And I don't need any promises."

Griffin sighed. "I have set myself on a course and nothing can divert me. Though I do not know why I am still here, I must believe that I will return to my place in history to complete my task. And when I return, I will leave you here." He paused, then gently held her away from him. "I would not have you regret our time together."

The color rose in her cheeks and she turned away from him, pulling the blanket more tightly around her, as if it might offer some protection from his words.

Griffin hesitantly placed his hands on her shoulders. "If my presence is too difficult for you to take, I will leave."

"No!" she cried, spinning around to face him. "No," she repeated in a tremulous voice. "I understand, and I will respect your feelings. You don't have to leave."

Griffin smiled. "Good. For I have come to depend on you, Merrie, and I am afraid I may feel lost without your practical counsel."

She graced him with a halfhearted smile as he adjusted the blanket around her shoulders.

"We will be friends then," he said, tugging on the blanket playfully.

"Friends," she repeated in a small voice.

"And now, my sweet friend, I suggest you crawl into your berth and go back to sleep. The time has come to return to Ocracoke. I will get our little boat under way and when you awaken, we will have our breakfast." He gave Merrie a quick kiss on her forehead, then steered her toward the cabin.

After he'd tucked her in, Griffin came back on deck. But instead of lifting anchor, he stripped off his clothes once more and dived into the frigid water. With strong, even strokes, he swam around the boat, again and again, until his muscles ached and his pulse pounded.

Then, kicking his feet up, he dived for the bottom, digging through the dark water. He stayed submerged, waiting for the door to open, his breath burning in his chest. And when he couldn't hold his breath any longer, he shot to the surface, breaking into the sunlight, gasping for air.

As he floated on his back, exhausted, he stared up at the sky. For the first time since he'd come to this century, he had good cause to believe he might never get back home.