Kate Hoffmann - The Pirate

Griffin twisted around and looked at her in surprise. "I did not know that."

She smiled winsomely and shrugged. "I'm a history professor. I've mentioned that fact in my lectures for years, but it never really meant anything until now. Go on with your story."

"There's not much more to tell. My mother was an orphan from Bristol. As soon as she was of an age, she came to the colonies. My father saw her on the docks that day and fell in love with her, then and there. He bought her papers and she tended his house for five months before he finally convinced her to marry him."

Merrie wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her chin on the top of his head. "That's such a wonderful story," she said. "So romantic."

Griffin smoothed his palms along her arms, enjoying the warmth of her pleasant embrace. How easy it was between them, this gentle friendship that they shared. She seemed to know how to make him happy, how to turn his foul moods fair. He'd never been friends with a woman, especially with a woman he desired.

He had always considered women weaker, less able to handle the stresses of daily life and the concerns of a man's world. But Merrie was equal to a man in every way, strong and determined, independent and stubborn. He felt as if he could talk to her about anything, confide in her about his fears and his doubts, his hopes and his dreams.

"As soon as my father had enough money saved, he sold the plantation," Griffin continued, "and had his first ship built. I remember the day he took me on board. I was twelve years old. He named her the Betty , after my mother, Elizabeth, and he began to sail the coast and the rivers, taking British goods south and bringing tobacco and furs and indigo north to Norfolk for shipment to England. When I turned twenty-one, he gave me a ship of my own and I sailed the route from Norfolk to London."

"That's pretty young for such a responsibility," Merrie said. "At twenty-one, most of my undergraduate male students are more concerned with girls and partying. You were barely a man and you were sailing the ocean."

"I was captain of my own ship," Griffin said. "And I had already crossed the Atlantic more times than many men in my crew. My father put me on board a friend's ship as a cabin boy when I turned thirteen and I worked my way through the ranks. When I was seventeen, I took a year away from the sea for an education. And at eighteen, I served as a lieutenant on a brigantine that sailed between the James River and the Thames."

She slipped her hands beneath the collar of his shirt and brushed her fingers softly along his nape. "You are a very brave man," she said, a tremble audible in her voice.

Merrie's fingers began to work again, but this time, with her touch firm against his bare skin, the contact seemed more intimate. He sank back and closed his eyes. A numbing warmth seeped through his tight muscles, slowly drifting down his torso and awakening a gentle throb of desire at his core. "I am not so brave," he murmured. "But there have been times of late when I wished I was."

"You must be anxious to finish this thing with Teach, so you can get back to your life," she said, her hesitant words clouded with hidden emotion.

Griffin paused before he spoke. He was eager to exact his revenge against the pirate, that much was true. But he hadn't really thought about his life beyond that. Now, as he did, he realized that the future seemed empty, void of the people he loved. His mother had died when he was fourteen. Later, he'd lost Jane and his son. And with his father now gone, he had no one left.

Griffin slowly turned to face her, kneeling between her legs. He grabbed her hands and pressed her fingers between his palms, staring deeply into her wide green eyes. "I cannot stay," he said. "If I could, I would. You must believe this is true."

"I-I wasn't asking you to stay," she said, her gentle voice uncertain.

"You have done so much for me," he said. "I feel that I owe you a great debt."

She tugged her fingers from his grasp. "No, you owe me nothing." Her words were edgy, defensive, as if he'd somehow insulted her.

Griffin placed his hand on her cheek. "You saved my life," he murmured. "And for that I will always be thankful." Her soft skin warmed his hand and heated his blood. She closed her eyes and turned into his touch. Lord, he couldn't help wondering what might come of them if he stayed.

She'd kindled something in him that he'd thought was long dead-buried with Jane-a growing need to share his life with a woman, an undeniable desire to make her his own. "I do owe you more than you will ever know, Merrie-girl."

Griffin bent nearer to her and brushed his lips across hers, relishing the silken touch of her mouth, a caress as soft as the petals of a rose. But he could not stop there, for what began as a simple gesture of gratitude flared into a passion so intense it made his pulse race.

He brought his lips down on hers again, this time demanding a response from her, pressing her back into the couch. A tiny moan escaped her throat and she opened to him and twisted her arms around his neck. He savored the sweet nectar of her mouth, a taste as heady as the finest Madeira, as addictive as Chinese opium. He wanted to stop, yet he couldn't draw away.

He'd never felt such a strong attraction to a woman, an attraction that seemed to overwhelm all common sense and reduce his every thought to the need for physical satisfaction. She used her experience well, drawing him in, making him want her all the more.

In such a short time, Merrie had become his safe harbor, a serene place where he could escape the terrible storms that had racked his existence on this earth. How he wanted to stay here, safe from the wind and the high waves, anchored in the lee of her comforting embrace, lost in the feel of her body beneath him, around him, beside him.

She had offered her body to him by her every wanton action, yet he couldn't help thinking of the other men in her life. Yes, he wanted her, but he wanted his revenge against the pirate even more. And to let her believe otherwise was the mark of a scoundrel, the trait of a blackguard who cared for no one but himself. He would not hurt her as she'd been hurt by men before. Steeling his resolve, he pulled back, inwardly cursing his lack of control when it came to Merrie.

"I am sorry," he murmured, looking down upon her flushed face. "I have taken advantage of your kindness again."

"I-I don't mind," she said, blinking back her surprise at his apology. "I mean, you're not taking advantage. I- I liked it…I mean, your kiss. I wanted you to kiss me. I- I want you."

Griffin quickly got to his feet and stepped away from the couch, putting a reasonable distance between them. "My behavior was unseemly. And for that, I am truly sorry." He rubbed his palms together and forced a smile. "I believe I might take a walk."

She stood and stepped in front of him, blocking his retreat to the door with her body. "I'm not some naive schoolgirl!" she snapped. "I was a willing participant. This is the twentieth century, Griffin, and it takes two to tango. No one," she continued, punctuating her words with a poke to his chest, "and I mean no one kisses me unless I want to be kissed." With that, she turned and stalked to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Griffin frowned, completely confused by her outburst. He drew a deep breath, trying to still his thudding heart and the urge to follow her. Damn, she was inviting his touch, craving his advances! He knew of her low moral character, yet he couldn't bring himself to take advantage. What kind of man had he become that he couldn't make love to a woman with Merrie's beauty and obvious passions?

He glanced over at Ben Gunn who sat silently on his perch, watching him with a suspicious, unblinking eye. "I believe I have put myself in the doghouse again," he said to the gray parrot.