Kate Hoffmann - The Pirate

He crossed the room and grabbed her by the hand, then drew her toward the couch. "I have come to apologize," he said.

She watched him warily. A slow smile curled the corners of her mouth and she sighed. "Griffin, you don't owe me an apology. I'm the one who should apologize, for keeping all this from you. I just didn't know how to tell you, and I knew you would blame me."

"And I did," he said. "For that, I am truly sorry." He grabbed her other hand and wove his fingers through hers.

"I never meant for this to happen, Griffin, and I swear if I could change it, I would."

"I know."

"But I am not going to say I'm disappointed," she continued. "I refuse to say that. I'm happy you're here, especially if it will save your life."

"And I am happy to be here, too."

"You are?" Her eyes were wide with surprise.

"Yes. And I believe it is time to face the reality of this situation. I don't think I'm going to be able to get back, Merrie."

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. "I know."

"And if I was brought here to save my life, then I'd best get on with living it," he continued. "And to that end, I have made plans for us. Early Jackson has offered me a business opportunity. I will be able to provide a living for you. We can stay here on the island and make a good life for ourselves."

"You've decided this?"

"Yes. Of course, I am interested in hearing your opinion in this matter, but I know this is the right course to take."

She nodded. "I see."

"And I will say again that I believe we should get married. It seems the only logical step. We cannot continue to live together outside of wedlock. It would not be proper. Now, you may have your say in the matter, if you like… but it will not change my mind."

Merrie stared at him, openmouthed, her gaze clouded with disbelief. In that very instant, he knew he had said something wrong again. He just wasn't sure what the hell it was.

She jumped to her feet, then with a frustrated growl, she threw the damp towel in his face. "Go to work, Griffin. Because if you stay in this house one more minute, I swear, I will personally drop-kick you back to 1718 myself!"

With that, she turned and stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her so loudly the house shook. Griffin stared after her, then sank back against the cushions and covered his eyes with his hands.

Maybe it would take more than one conversation with Early Jackson for Griffin to understand a twentieth-century woman.

At first, she couldn't sleep. All that had passed between them in the daylight hours now seemed to conspire to rob her of rest. Meredith tossed and turned, punching at the pillow and cursing Griffin's overbearing soul. She wanted to forget the man and his chauvinistic ideas! But even after she finally drifted off, thoughts of him still haunted her mind.

He came to her in a hazy dream, a dream she'd had so many times in the past, a dream that had left her without fulfillment, without release. But this time, it was different, for he was no longer a vague image that would evaporate upon waking, but a flesh-and-blood man, her fantasy come alive.

She felt the bed sink beneath his weight, the heat of his body near hers, and heard the sound of his soft even breathing. He gently placed his hand over her mouth and Meredith's eyes met the intense blue gaze above her as the pale moonlight streamed though the window to gleam on his tanned face.

"Do not speak, Merrie," he warned, his words soft and seductive and warm on her cheek. "For I'm still not certain that I should be here. One false word might steer me from my purpose this night."

He watched her for a long moment, indecision carved on his handsome features, then withdrew his hand. Slowly, she reached up and traced the lines of worry on his forehead with her fingertips, as if the simple gesture might erase any doubt he still had.

All their arguments suddenly faded and all their differences disappeared. In that instant, she knew that she loved this man, this proud and arrogant pirate, this man who held honor so dear. And she could no longer fight her feelings for him.

It didn't matter why he'd been brought here, whether she was saving his life, or he was saving hers. All she knew was that they belonged together, now and forever, in this bed and in this time.

Silently, she let her fingers drift along the planes and angles of his perfect face, exploring his striking cheek-bones, his strong jaw, his sculpted lips, as if she were touching him for the first time. Weaving her fingers through his long hair, she drew his mouth down to hers.

A groan rumbled in the back of his throat as his lips covered hers, and he abandoned himself to their kiss. There would be no going back now, she thought. She had waited for Griffin her entire life. They would love each other in the deepest way possible, the consequences be damned.

His tongue gently probed her mouth and she opened to his ever-deepening kiss, the taste of him like a drug to her senses, numbing and addictive, and devastating in its power over her. This was like no kiss they had shared before, so filled with the promise of the passion yet to come.

She waited for a flood of trepidation to overwhelm her, for all her fears and insecurities to push to the surface as they had the other times. But she felt so right in his arms, like a sensual, self-aware woman, not a nervous, fumbling neophyte.

He pulled her beneath him and settled himself along the length of her body, his weight trapping her against his body, the evidence of his desire pressed against her belly, outlined by the tight denim.

Griffin pushed up and braced his hands on either side of her head, a self-deprecating grin twisting his lips. "It has been a long while since I've been with a woman."

She felt her face flame. "Almost three hundred years," she murmured, running her hand down the front of his T-shirt to the waistband of his jeans. "That is a very long time."

Through his T-shirt, she felt the hard muscles and the warm flesh of his torso. Suddenly, she wanted to rid him of all his clothes. She tugged at the hem of the shirt, pulling it up until it bunched beneath his arms, then ran her nails down along his spine.

He drew a sharp breath and held it, then groaned in pleasure. "I am not certain of how things go between a man and a woman in this century, so we will proceed…"

He brushed a kiss across her lips. "Slowly."

"Slowly," Meredith repeated, her confidence bolstered.

"Slowly," he repeated, nuzzling her ear.

He rolled off of her, then sat back on his heels, his gaze never leaving hers. With a grin, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. In the moonlight, he looked as if he'd been carved from solid marble. She reached out and allowed her hand to drift along the tight muscles of his abdomen.

He took her hand and drew her up in front of him, then pulled her body against his, kissing her long and hard, cupping her backside in his hands, molding her hips to his.

Suddenly, desperately, she wanted to feel her skin warm against his. What wickedness possessed her, she didn't know, but she pushed against his chest, then grabbed the bottom of her nightshirt. In one easy movement, she yanked it up over her head, unashamed of what she revealed.

But while her arms were still stretched above her, Griffin's mouth drifted to her breasts. "So beautiful," he murmured, teasing at her nipple with his lips.

Meredith shivered, then tossed the nightshirt over her shoulder. "When you first met me, you thought I was a boy."

He glanced up at her and shot her a seductive grin. "I was suffering from a blow to the head. I am very clear of mind at present."

"Then make love to me, Griffin," she murmured, her fingers twisted in his long hair. "I want to show, you that I'm a woman, your woman."