She pushed herself up and turned to him, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on her knees. "Yes, me, a woman. In this day and age, women are considered equal to men. We have the same educational opportunities, we hold important jobs. I have a doctoral degree in history."

"William and Mary is for men, not women."

Meredith grinned. "Not anymore."

"So what do you know of Teach?"

She smiled. "He's probably the most famous pirate of all time. Everyone has heard of Blackbeard."

"And did he live a long life?"

"Blackbeard was killed on Friday, November twenty-second, 1718, when two ships under the command of Lieutenant Robert Maynard and under the orders of Governor Alexander Spotswood of Virginia attacked the pirate in Ocracoke Inlet. The battle happened in the waters just beyond the back door of this cottage."

Griffin rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes. "It will be done then, with or without me. My father's death will be avenged."

Meredith bit her lower lip and winced. "I don't think we can be sure of that now."

He sat up and stared at her, a deep scowl creasing his forehead. "Explain, please."

She drew a deep breath and tried to remember her science fiction. "There is a theory that says that events in history are… very fragile." She struggled to explain. "Think of time as a brick wall, course after course laid on top of each other but without mortar. If you remove one brick, the wall might fall, or it might not, depending upon how important the brick is. You're a brick in Blackbeard's wall," Meredith explained. "If you're not there to play your part, he may not fall."

"You have these-these automobiles that travel very fast. You say that a man has voyaged to the moon. So you must have a conveyance to send me back to my time."

A long silence grew between them.

"You do know the way, do you not?" Griffin asked.

"Griffin, we can cross the Atlantic in a few hours on a supersonic airplane, but I'm afraid we haven't yet invented a machine that can travel through time. But that doesn't mean there isn't a way. We just have to figure out how you got here. Once we do that, we'll be able to figure out how to send you back."

"We don't have much time, Merrie-girl," he said, exhaustion tinging his voice.

"No," Meredith replied. "We don't."

She reached out and placed her palm on his beard roughened cheek, giving him a tremulous smile. He leaned close then drew her into his arms. They clung to each other for a long time, silent, taking solace in each other's touch.

How much she'd come to care for Griffin and in such a short time. Was it merely because she might be at the root of all his problems? Or was it more? Had her secret fantasies of pirates suddenly taken on human form? Whatever these strange feelings might be, she knew she had to help him-she owed him that much.

"It will be all right," she said softly.

Slowly, he dragged her down into the bed, pulling her against his body, curling himself along her back and snuggling his chin against her shoulder. Eyes wide with shock, she lay next to him, afraid to move, not quite certain what he expected of her.

His warm breath teased at her ear and she listened as his breath grew soft and even. When he finally slept, she realized that she'd been foolish to think he wanted more from her. He was simply a man out of time, confused by all that had happened to him and in need of the comfort of another human being. He needed her for as long as he remained here, and she would be there for him, until they said their goodbyes.

As she let herself drift off to sleep, his muscled body pressed against hers, she realized that saying goodbye to a man like Griffin Rourke might be harder than she ever imagined.


Griffin stood on the narrow strip of sand behind the cottage, staring out at the water. Wispy clouds scudded across the sky, pushed along by the same brisk breeze that capped the waves with white. If he watched the water long enough, he could almost forget the strange place he'd come to and believe he was back home.

This sea had carried him from one century to another for a reason he had yet to comprehend. Maybe it held the answer to his return. He was tempted to walk into the surf, to let the waves cover his head, to breathe in the saltwater and let his body drift away on the current. But would it carry him back the way he came?

As if God was playing a foul trick on him, he had been snatched from his purpose and dropped here. There had been times when he'd wished for his own death, first when he'd been riddled with guilt after Jane and the baby had been taken by the fever while he was at sea. Then, when he had taken to drink to soothe his sorrow.

But after his father's untimely death, only revenge would do. His friends had claimed that to be a spy on Teach's ship was as much suicide as courage. But this place was not the noble death he had imagined, but merely a hellish exile where he would remain powerless to complete his plan.

Yet within this hell lived an angel. Merrie, his guardian, his rescuer. She was an odd girl, but then perhaps not so odd for this time. She was not what the gossips of his time would consider beautiful. But she was slender and graceful and strangely exotic to his own eyes. She had cropped her dark hair, yet it did not detract from her looks but enhanced them, drawing the eye to her face, to that smooth, ivory skin like the finest porcelain, unmarked by age or disease or dissipation.

But beyond her looks, there was something else. She was a quick and clever girl, well-spoken, educated and independent, not the kind that a man might want for a wife, but a woman who might provide a welcome diversion from the ordinary.

His mind wandered back to the feel of her body pressed against his. He had been a long time without a woman, over a year of self-imposed celibacy. He had dishonored Jane after her death by crawling inside a whiskey bottle and every warm and willing wench he encountered. When he finally pulled himself out, he'd vowed to be pure and chaste until such time as another woman, worthy of Jane's memory, came along.

Merrie was not that woman, but she could certainly test his resolve. As he had watched her sleep, he'd imagined having her. She had all but offered herself to him, allowing him to lie beside her in her bed, to spend the night in her house.

That his angel was fallen should make no difference to him, but it did. He wanted to believe her to be pure and untouched, but he knew she wasn't. She lived in this cottage alone, banished to this island by a society that could not accept her behavior and her mode of dress. He wondered what had led to her fall. Had she loved a man who had despoiled her and then deserted her?

Griffin sat down in the grass, digging his bare toes into the damp strip of sand along the water's edge. He could offer to kill the man for her, to demand satisfaction in a duel. He was considered an excellent shot and a cool head with a sword. It would be the least he could do in return for her saving his life.

A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to find Merrie's smiling face. "I was wondering if you were hungry," she said. "The electricity came back on, so I could cook something. You haven't eaten since… since you got here."

Griffin patted the grass beside him and she sat down.

"I could not help noticing that you are a plainspoken woman, Merrie. You speak your mind in a forthright manner. I would ask you a question."

She wrapped her arms around her knees and shrugged. "Ask away. But I told you all I know about automobiles."

"That is not what I would ask. I want to know if it is a man who has brought you to this place?"

She frowned. "No. I came on the ferry."

Griffin bit back a curse. He was not making himself clear, yet he knew no other delicate way to put it. He decided to change his tack. "Would it be best for me to leave here, before my presence is known and tongues begin to wag? You have helped me, Merrie, and I don't wish to bring more harm to your reputation."

"You don't have to leave. You can stay here while we try to figure this thing out."

"Then that is the way of it?" he said, frowning. "You would have me live here with you? To be with you?"

"We're adults, Griffin, and we don't need to answer to anyone."

He paused, turning his eyes out to sea as he took in her blunt statement. Did she mean for them to become lovers, then? Was she offering herself to him? He'd met many women of questionable morals in his life, but none more sweet and lovely than Merrie. And the thought that he might take her, here and now, with no protest from her lips, stirred raw desire deep inside of him.

But something held him back. He owed Merrie his life. To take her out of lust would dishonor her-and him. He would not surrender to his instincts, he vowed. Not now, not yet. Still, as he turned to look at her again, he knew that to resist her would be difficult. Especially since she seemed willing.

"How old are you?" Griffin asked.

"I'm twenty-eight, nearly twenty-nines," Merrie said.

"And you have not married?"

"No," she said, a touch of defensiveness in her voice. "I'm still young. And I've been too busy with my career."

"Then you have a protector? A benefactor who keeps you?"

"What?" Merrie gasped. "No! I keep myself!"

Griffin cursed inwardly. He was not handling this well at all. Though they spoke the same language, he was at sixes and sevens, as if he were expressing himself in Latin or Greek. "Are you considered worthy of respect in this village, even though you invite the company of men into your home without others present?" Now, her expression showed anger and he knew he'd made a hash of things.

"Griffin, I'm going to give you one piece of advice while you're here and I want to you take it to heart. Loosen up. Things have changed. A lot."

"Loosen up," Griffin repeated. "And what might this mean?"

"It means, relax. If you wanted to, you could dress up in ladies' clothes and walk down Main Street and a lot of folks wouldn't give you a second look."

He shifted uncomfortably, not certain what she was implying. "Why would I want to do this?"

"I don't know. The important thing is, you can, and nobody will arrest you for it. They may even find it entertaining."

Griffin tried to imagine such a thing, but couldn't. He decided the conversation had strayed well off the path of his original intent. "So, there is no man that you would have me challenge for your honor?"

"You mean like fight a duel?"

Griffin nodded.

Merrie pushed to her feet and walked to the water, letting the gentle waves lap at her bare feet. She turned to look at him, her smile quirking as if she was about to burst into fits of laughter. "Thank you for the offer, and I'll keep it in mind, but right now I can't think of a soul I'd want you to kill for me."

He joined her at the water's edge and grabbed her hand. "So what are we to do next, if you have no one I might shoot?"

"As soon as the phone is working again, I thought I would call a friend of mine. Kelsey is a physics professor at William and Mary."

"She is a physician?"

"No. She's a physicist. She studies electrons and gravity and about a million other things I really don't understand. If she doesn't know about time-travel theory, she will know where to send us."

"Then we must leave today," Griffin said, trying to control his excitement. "Will we travel by water or by land? Is the college still in the same place as it was in my time? If it is, I vow it would be faster to travel by water. If the wind is with us, it will take us less than a week's time."

"The college is still in Williamsburg. But we don't have to go there. We can just call her…on the telephone." Merrie sighed. "Why don't we have lunch and I'll explain the telephone over toasted cheese sandwiches. After that, I want to go downtown and pick up some clothes for you. If you expect to walk around the island during the day, it would be best if you fit in."

"So there is something wrong with my clothes?" he asked. "They are serviceable garments."

"They're just not quite the rage in this day and age," she said.

"I will not wear a dress," Griffin countered. "I am not that… loose."

Merrie giggled, a warm, musical sound that filled his senses. "Relax. Men in the twentieth century aren't expected to wear ladies' dresses. They just can if they want to."

"Well, I do not want to," Griffin said firmly.

She grinned, her smile teasing and sweet. "I never had any doubt about that, Griffin Rourke."