Kate Hoffmann - The Pirate

"I-I can't do this," she murmured. She glanced around, then wiggled out from under him, clutching at the buttons of her dress. "I-I'm sorry… I shouldn't have… I mean, this was all my fault."

"Merrie, wait. I did not mean to-"

"We should go now." She grabbed the basket and stumbled to her feet. "I-I'll meet you back at the road." Griffin watched as she clambered up the dune, slipping and sliding against the steep mound of sand. When she disappeared behind it, he flopped back down and cursed out loud.

What the devil had he done wrong? He knew things between men and women had changed in the past three centuries. But a woman's honor was now her own responsibility-or so Merrie had told him. Besides, she'd had other men and how many, he didn't care to speculate. Had he been so inept that he hadn't even lived up to her past lovers? No, that couldn't be so! She had responded to his touch, urging him on with her soft, pleading moans.

Griffin groaned. For the first time in a very long while, he felt like a fumbling boy, untrained in the ways of the world. He had made a mess of things, of that he was certain.

There was only one solution to his dilemma, to this war that raged between his past and his present. He had little chance of returning to his own time. No matter how much he wanted to go back, he'd have to come to terms with making a life here, in the twentieth century. So he would do the only proper thing after their unfortunate encounter on the beach. All their problems would be solved.

He would simply take Merrie as his wife.

The night breeze blew softly through the screened porch, ruffling Meredith's hair and cooling her flushed skin. Curling her feet beneath her on the chaise longue, she listened idly to the songs of the crickets and the gentle ebb and flow of the waves. But her eyes never strayed from the figure that stood on the beach, illuminated by the light of a half moon.

Griffin stood at the water's edge, staring out across the Sound, his hands braced on his hips. He'd been there since they'd arrived back home, pacing, then stopping to gaze at the horizon. He'd spent many midnights in the same spot, watching and waiting, at the edge of the water while she pretended to sleep. But tonight was different.

He was still dressed in the faded jeans and ragged shirt that he'd worn to work. The leather pouch was still sitting on the mantel and his boots and breeches were inside the hall closet. For the first time in many nights, Griffin was not waiting to leave. And in that realization, Meredith knew she should feel some joy. But all she felt was utter confusion and a healthy dose of remorse.

She drew a long breath and closed her eyes. She'd wanted to go to him, to explain her sudden rejection of his advances, but then she'd thought better of it. For an explanation would also require a confession, and she wasn't sure he was ready to listen to what she had to say. Nor was she prepared to tell him what she'd been trying to deny from the night he'd arrived…that she was the cause of his leap in time.

Meredith covered her eyes with her hands. It had to be the truth, nothing else made sense. Over the past week, she'd carefully questioned him about Blackbeard, knowing full well it may be the catalyst to send him back. But to her surprise, she'd discovered that Griffin knew very little about the man he hunted and could provide few facts that she didn't already know. She'd somehow forgotten that news did not travel fast in colonial America. Without the benefit of newspapers and television, news of Black-beard's crimes and background had been spread mostly by word of mouth.

She was now certain she'd brought him here as an answer to her fantasies. Over the past week, she had desperately tried to a recall a specific incident, an errant musing or a frustrated thought that may have provided the key. Yet nothing had come to mind. One day she was happily writing a biography and the next night, he was lying on her beach, half dead, her fantasy man come to life.

She would have to tell him the truth before their relationship went any further. But she couldn't bring herself to say the words without sounding as if she'd lost her mind.

Meredith snatched her hands from her eyes. "What am I supposed to do?" she muttered to herself.

"Perhaps you could begin by explaining what happened between us, Merrie."

She sat upright, her gaze riveted on Griffin who was standing at the end the chaise. Damn his pirate tricks! He moved like a cat, with unerring stealth. So much for her plan to be safely locked in her bedroom before he headed back inside.

"I-I really don't know what to say," Meredith said.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Meredith got to her feet. "Oh, no," she said nervously. "It's my fault. I guess-I guess I just wasn't ready. There are some things that we need to talk about before we…you know."

"'Tis my fault," Griffin countered. "I pushed you."

"No…no, you didn't." Meredith winced. "Griffin, I think you should know that I'm the one who is-"

Griffin reached out and placed his finger over her lips. "Merrie, I think I know what you want to say."

"Griffin, I-"

"As I see it, there is only one solution to this problem between us. We must marry."

Meredith looked up and met his gaze, then shook her head in confusion. "What?"

"I want you to be my wife."

"You-you want me to marry you?"

He nodded. "After this afternoon, I believe it is the only honorable thing to do. My behavior was improper and ill-mannered. And though I know you do not have a care for your virtue, I must."

"And you think you'll protect my virtue by marrying me?" Meredith asked, unable to contain her disbelief. "Are you crazy?"

Griffin shifted on his feet and frowned, obviously not getting the response he'd expected. "No, I am in complete control of my faculties."

Meredith laughed. "You want to marry me because of one little roll in the sand? We didn't do anything!"

"We did plenty. Now, will you marry me or not?"

"No!" Meredith shouted. For an instant, she couldn't believe she was actually turning down his marriage proposal. But then, she knew she had no other choice.

Griffin took a step back. "I don't understand. Why not?"

"What about when you go back? Do you really expect me to marry someone who might suddenly get yanked back to his own century? Just so you won't feel guilty when we sleep together?"

Griffin grabbed her hands. "Merrie, let us be honest here. I don't think I will be going back. With every day that passes, this fact becomes more real to me."

"You-you can't be sure of that," she said.

"Marry me," he repeated.

"No," Meredith said, snatching her hands from his. "I will not marry you, Griffin Rourke."

With that, she turned and walked through the door, making a point to slam it behind her. Of all the nerve! Who did he think he was? She couldn't imagine a more ridiculous proposal. Honor? He could take his half-witted proposal and his moral obligation and shove it, for all she cared.

"Damn it, Merrie, wait!"

"Leave me alone, Griffin!"

Meredith strode to her bedroom and slammed that door, as well. "A marriage proposal should be based on love, not some debt of honor," she muttered. "If he thinks I'd even consider such an insult, he's more provincial than I thought!"

Meredith threw herself on the bed and covered her head with a pillow. All right, so maybe she was tempted to accept. Deep inside, she wanted nothing more than to spend her life with Griffin Rourke. But she also wanted a marriage based on love, not duty. And she was not fool enough to believe that Griffin loved her. He may desire her, but he did not love her. In his mind, love was not necessary to make a good marriage.

Yet, that didn't stop her from wanting him. There wasn't a minute that passed in which she didn't think of him and didn't wonder what it might be like between them. And the more time that passed, the more she began to see him as a man who belonged in her time.