Kate Hoffmann - The Pirate

Over the past few days, he'd been surprised at the depth of her spirit and resolve. Though he'd been in a foul mood, she hadn't backed down from him. She didn't run to her bedchamber, weeping at his surly treatment. Nor did she pout for days on end, or send for her mother and her sisters. Instead, she constantly challenged him, forcing him to see this place for what it had to offer.

She was a strong woman, a woman that a man could depend on. And he couldn't deny his feelings for her any longer. He cared about her and her happiness, and he didn't feel at all comfortable about leaving her here alone. But he had a task that he must complete and nothing must stand in his way.

He slowly let the curtain drop and returned to sit on the bed, his back to her. He scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, then raked his fingers through his hair. "What if I can't get back?" he murmured.

He felt her hand on his shoulder, warm and reassuring, and he closed his eyes, giving in to her gentle touch.

"We'll think about that if and when the time comes," she said.

Griffin turned and looked into Merrie's eyes. As long as he was determined to return, she would support his choice, of that he was certain. His gaze dropped to her mouth again, her lips so lush and ripe. "Why are you alone?" he asked.

She blinked, confusion clouding her expression. "I-I don't understand."

"Why is there no man to protect you? When I leave, you'll have no one. Are you not afraid?"

A winsome smile curved the corners of her mouth. "I don't need someone to protect me, Griffin," she said. "I'm all right on my own."

"But you are well past the age of marriage, and-"

"And where you come from they'd call me a spinster or an old maid, right?"

"A thornback," he added.

"Well, I wouldn't care what they called me."

"Then you prefer to live this way. Alone?"

Her cheeks took on a pink glow and she shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I don't think about it, Griffin. It's not that important to me. The sexual revolution gave me, and all women, choices. I have my career and if I want, I can have a husband, also."

He was going to ask what the sexual revolution was, but decided to return to more pressing matters. "Well, I believe it is important. You must choose a husband. You must not put it off any longer."

"It's not as easy as that," Merrie said. "There are many things to consider."

"What about this Muldoon? He seems like a good man, he is even-tempered and healthy, he owns a large establishment with many patrons. He would make you a fine husband. I could approach this man with an offer if you would like."

"Tank Muldoon and me?" Merrie considered the match for only a moment before she laughed, a warm musical sound that filled the room. "Tank is a very nice man, but he's not my type."

He pressed her hands between his. "He is strong and honest and wealthy and his appearance is not in the least objectionable. I know it is important to a woman to have a man that bathes regularly and has good teeth."

"Let me put it another way. I'm not Tank's type."

"He would be a lucky man to have you."

As would I, Griffin thought. But it could not be, for he and Merrie had been doomed from the start. They came from different lives and places, sharing only this short moment in time before all would be set right.

She pulled her hands from his and idly fussed with the bed linens, tucking them snugly around her. "Griffin, don't worry about me. I'll be fine after you leave. I was fine before you came, wasn't I?"

He nodded then cupped her cheek in his palm, tipping her gaze up to his. "If I lived in your time, I would offer for you."

She covered his fingers with her own. "That would be very noble of you. But I wouldn't want you to offer for me, unless you loved me."

"Many marry without love," he said. He hadn't loved Jane when he'd offered for her. In fact, he had barely known her. Yet over the two years they had been married, they had grown to care for each other. And when he'd lost her, he felt as if his heart had been torn from his body and buried beside her and their baby. Maybe he had loved her, but then, he would never truly be sure.

She had died alone, in their small house in Williamsburg, three days after the fever had taken his infant son- the son he'd never seen or held. And where had he been, but on his way home from London, busy with his duties as captain of the Spirit and gloating over the fine price he had secured for his cargo of Virginia tobacco.

"Griffin?"

He blinked and found her staring at him.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Slowly, without speaking, he bent forward and touched his mouth to hers. She didn't pull away or play the coy maiden. Instead, Merrie returned his kiss, parting her lips slightly, inviting him to take more. And when he didn't, she did, touching her tongue to his lower lip, gently tempting, teasing.

What began as a simple gesture of thanks, suddenly vibrated with an overwhelming sensuality. He wanted to feel her mouth beneath his, bury his face in her sweet-smelling hair, then gaze into her passion-clouded eyes.

It took all his strength to draw away. He could not take what she offered, not in this time, not in any time. He had no right, for he could not offer her anything in return. Dropping his hand from her soft cheek, he sucked in a deep draft of air, averting his gaze from the apprehension that colored her deep green eyes.

"I-I'm sorry," she said.

"There is no need to apologize," Griffin replied. "I am the one to be sorry. I acted impulsively, without thought for your feelings, or your honor."

He quickly stood and walked to the bedroom door.

"You don't have to leave," she said.

"I do," he replied. "'Tis nearly midnight. Your friend said that we must try to duplicate what happened. Perhaps it wasn't the weather, but the time or the place. I'm of a mind to wait outside and see."

Merrie sat up straight in bed. "Do you think it will work?"

Griffin shrugged. "We'll not know until we try." He smiled. "Go to sleep, Merrie-girl," he said softly. "And if I am gone when you wake, you will think this has all been a dream."

"I'll never believe it was a dream," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I'll never forget you."

"Nor I you," he said.

Griffin turned and walked out of the bedroom, leaving Merrie alone. She would be fine, she had assured him of that fact. Merrie had lived alone for a long time before he had come to her. Still, in a small corner of his soul, he knew he was leaving something rare and precious behind. And if he magically stepped back to his own time on this night, he knew he would always wonder what might have been had he been forced to stay.

He had spoken the truth when he said he would not forget her. He would see her eyes in the sea and her smile in the sun. He would feel her skin when he touched the finest silk and he would smell her perfume every time he brought a flower to his nose.

No, upon his life, he would never forget Merrie.

Meredith flopped back on her pillow and covered her face with her hands. She felt like crying but she wasn't sure why. This man had blown into her life with all the force of a hurricane, and now there was a good chance he'd blow right back out again.

She knew she had to let him go. There was nothing for him here, and he was intent on his plan to avenge his father's death. And yet, she didn't want him to leave. There was something about him, something she felt on such a visceral level, a feeling that she couldn't put into words, something that told her this thing between them was not finished. He was not supposed to leave, not yet.

Meredith fought against the temptation to run out to the beach and try to convince him to stay. But deep down, she knew that would be wrong. She had to let him try, and if nothing happened this night, she would put her feelings aside and continue to help him until he found his way back.