Perhaps that was part of it. But there was more…much more. Here, in her world, he felt as if he was incomplete in some way. As if part of his being had been left behind in his own time. Teach was waiting for him. But to be honest, the pirate was not the objective, but simply a means to an end. A way to finally say goodbye to his father.

With Jane and the baby, there had been a reason for their deaths, a reason he couldn't fight. But with his father, he'd just watched him fade before his very eyes, unable to understand why he had chosen to abandon his life and unable to do anything to bring him back. To destroy Teach might somehow give meaning to his father's death.

How could he explain this to Merrie in a way that she would understand? She would never comprehend the sense of family duty his father had instilled in him, the strong moral fiber and uncompromising honor by which he lived his life. These were things a man did not speak of, for they were the fabric of his very soul.

No, these things were not meant to be said aloud. Griffin picked up his pace until he was nearly running. She would never understand.

The harbor was already bustling with activity when he arrived at Early Jackson's dock. The shrimp boat sat in its cradle at the edge of the water, the hull nearly scraped bare. He circled the boat, admiring the practical lines and sturdy construction. The shrimper had been built by hand, the same way boats of his time had. He knocked his fist on the hull and listened to the solid, dependable sound.

"Morning, Griff."

Griffin glanced up to see Early Jackson ten feet above him, hanging over the side of the boat with a bucket in his hand. He smiled. "Morning, Early. I didn't see you up there."

The spritely old man crawled over the side and scrambled down the ladder. "You're a little slow getting in this morning."

Griffin shrugged. "Sorry. I'll work later tonight."

"Naw, I don't care if you take some time for yourself. You've been working so hard these past few days, I'm sure Meredith would like to keep you at home a little longer."

Griffin nodded and peered inside the bucket, then pulled out his favorite scraper. Without a word, he set to work, scraping the wood with strong, sure strokes. Early watched him with a bemused expression.

"Is everything all right between you and Meredith?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?" Griffin replied.

"Because, if you scrape much harder, you're going to scrape a hole right through the hull. You might feel better if you talk about it."

Griffin stood up. Why was every facet of his personal life open for discussion in this century? He braced his fists on his hips, ready to tell Early it was none of his business. But then he thought better of it, and replaced his retort with a question. "Are you married, Early?"

The old man rubbed his whiskered chin. "Yep. Nearly forty years… and to the same gal, I might add."

"May I pose a question to you?"

Early shrugged. "Sure. Pose away."

"Who has the last word in your household? You or your wife?"

"She does," Early said without a moment's thought.

Griffin frowned, certain that he had not made himself clear. "What I mean to ask is, who is in command?"

"She is," Early said.

Griffin cleared his throat. "I don't believe you understand my question. Let me restate it. Do you consider her opinion in all that you do?"

Early snorted, then chuckled. "Are you crazy?"

He smiled, relieved that he'd finally gotten the answer he wanted. Things were not so different here.

"Of course I do," Early continued. "I'm no fool, boy."

Griffin opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, considering Early's answer for a moment. "This is common then," he finally asked, "this bowing to your wife's will?"

"Me and Millie just figured that marriage should be an equal partnership. I give a little, she gives a little. It keeps things interesting and on a nice even keel."

"An equal partnership?"

"When we got married, most folks didn't think that way. But Millie made it clear she wouldn't marry me unless I respected her as an individual. Then came the women's movement, and now everybody pretty much thinks this way. I like to tell Millie we were ahead of our time."

"And this does not bother you… to give up control? Isn't it a bit like a ship with two captains?"

"I never really wanted control in the first place," Early said with a chuckle. "Not since I figured out that I loved the lady. After that, it didn't much matter. Besides, we usually take turns at the wheel, one of us steering while the other navigates. It makes the trip easier for the both of us." Early paused, then slapped Griffin on the shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll work it out. Meredith can be as stubborn as a cross-eyed mule. She gets that from her daddy. But she's got a good heart, something her mama had in spades."

"Yes," Griffin said quietly, "that she does." He smiled. "That she does."

"Now, seeing as how you're going to make up with Meredith, I suspect you'll be staying on the island for a while longer. I was wondering if you might want some more work. Me and the boys found two more shrimpers, but we don't have time to work on them both. We figured we'd give one to you to fix up. When we sell it, we'll split the profits right down the middle. Does that sound good?"

Griffin hesitated before he answered. To agree would be to admit that he would spend the rest of his life in this time and place. Was he really ready to do that, to give up on the past and go on with his future? "That sounds fair," he finally replied. "But I'd like to have a few days to consider your proposal, if you don't mind."

"I'm sure you'd like to discuss it with Meredith," Early said.

Griffin nodded. "Yes, I would. I'd like to discuss it with Merrie. To be honest, I think I would like to discuss it with her right now." He dropped the scraper in the bucket, then rubbed his palms on his thighs. "I'll be back in a few hours."

Early grinned. "You just take all the time you want, you hear? A lady shouldn't be rushed."

Griffin blinked in confusion, then nodded. "Thanks, Early. I appreciate your understanding."

With that, he turned and started for home. The trip back took only half the time that the trip to the harbor had, since Griffin was jogging most of the way. When he reached the cottage, he threw open the door and strode inside.

"Merrie?" The sound of his voice echoed throughout the house. "Merrie, where are you?"

"Merrie!" Ben squawked. "Merrie-girl!"

She emerged from the bathroom, a towel in her hand, her short hair damp and her rosy face looking as fresh and pretty as a dew-soaked flower. "What are you shouting about? Why aren't you at work?"

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."