"You are a passionate woman, Merrie, a woman of…worldly experience. And I know this will be difficult for you, but we must not allow ourselves these pleasures."
"Why not?" Meredith said quietly.
"I must leave you someday. I'm not sure when, but I vow I will not leave you with regret."
Meredith spun out of his grasp and snatched his trousers, then held them over her shoulder. "You'd better put on your pants." After he took them from her, she made her way back to the cockpit. She stared out over the water and considered his words.
If he was truly brought here to fulfill her fantasies, then why was he so determined to push her away? Why couldn't he give in to the feelings that were so obviously growing between them?
They'd almost exhausted their options. Until they figured out what had happened, and why, they were merely guessing at a method to return him to his own time.
Meredith closed her eyes and hugged her arms to her chest. If he'd been brought here to help in her research, maybe she ought to question him, to find out everything she could. Once that was done, maybe he'd be free to return.
And if Griffin had been brought here to make her fantasies a reality, to rid her of her virginity, the fastest way to solve that problem would be to-
She snapped her eyes open and bit back a groan. Maybe he'd been brought here to torment her. For if her work and her virginity were at stake, she wasn't quite sure she'd be willing to give him up for either! Though he wanted to return to exact his plan against Blackbeard, she couldn't help hoping that he'd stay, that he wouldn't find a way back.
Meredith cursed softly. So what was she to do? How was she to know the right course to take?
"Merrie? Are you all right?"
She shivered and rubbed her forearms, her eyes still fixed on a fisherman who was dangling a line off the bridge. "Are you dressed?" she asked.
"I would not have thought you such a Puritan, Merrie," he teased, trying to lighten the mood between them. He was acting as if nothing had happened between them at all. "You show your ankles, and even your knees, in public all the time."
"That's different." She turned around. "You shouldn't have scared me like that," she murmured. "I thought you'd drowned. And how did you sneak on board? The boat didn't even rock."
"An old pirate trick," he said. "Serves me well, don't you think?"
She forced a smile, trying hard to return his light-hearted banter, but her heart wasn't in it. "And have you crept on board many boats, wearing nothing but a smile, to accost women?"
He frowned in mock pensiveness, then grinned, the corners of his mouth curling up in a charming way. "Many, many women, Merrie-girl. But not a one quite like you."
Meredith stared at him, her gaze locked on his. She reached out and gently placed her palm on his bare chest, brushing away the moist sheen of river water. A frisson of heat stole though her fingers and up her arm, but she didn't pull away. "I'm sorry it didn't work, Griffin. Maybe we just didn't find the right place." But she wasn't truly sorry, for anything that kept Griffin with her could only make her happy.
"Perhaps," he said. "Yet I am beginning to wonder if we ever will find the end to this tangle."
"We will," she said, not really believing in the truth of her words. Meredith drew a deep breath. "I'm hungry. We can eat on board or we can row the dinghy to shore. There's an inn that serves dinner and we can spend the night there, if you like."
"I would rather stay on the water," he said. "I feel more at home out here."
Meredith watched as he made his way back to the bow. For a moment, things had become so simple between them, two people sharing a moment of passion. But then, the past sprang up like a great sea monster, rocking the boat and upsetting the easy balance they'd achieved… and reminding her that, no matter how much she wanted it, there was still a very good chance that Griffin would never be hers.
The first signs of dawn colored the eastern horizon a soft pink, bathing the landscape in an otherworldly light. Distant calls of waking birds echoed across the dark surface of the creek, their songs accompanied by the gentle slap of the water on the side of the boat. Griffin stood on the bow of the small sailboat, his gaze fixed on the twinkling lights from Bath Town, his fingers wrapped around the jib stay.
Merrie was sound asleep in the tiny cabin below, curled up in the port bunk. Though he'd tried, he couldn't sleep. He'd thought about crawling into the berth beside her and pulling her pliant body against his. With her close, maybe he could forget the demons that plagued his mind and find a few hours of rest.
But instead of taking shelter in her warmth, instinct told him to go back on deck, to watch and wait for some sign. He'd even dived in and circled the boat a few more times, hoping that he'd stumble upon a door to the past.
Griffin ran his fingers through his damp hair. The longer he stayed away, the more difficult it became to sustain his resolve. Somewhere, hidden deep in the past, the pirate Blackbeard waited. Yet now, the vision of Griffin's revenge seemed to be fading, as if a thick fog had descended on the past.
He stood on deck for a long time, watching the rising light glint off the water. His thoughts returned time and again to the woman who slept below, to her perfect face and her tempting body. And then, as if she'd been brought there by the sheer force of his will, he felt her presence behind him and he knew, without turning, that he was no longer alone.
Merrie stepped to his side, clutching a blanket around her shoulders against the damp morning breeze. "Are you all right?" she said. She placed her fingers on his arm and a surge of heat warmed his blood. "I woke up and you were gone."
"I didn't mean to frighten you," he replied, hearing the apprehension in her voice. She had thought he was gone, for good. Griffin cursed inwardly as guilt washed over him. For Merrie's sake, he had to find a way back. But though his mind was set on returning to his own time, he couldn't help wondering if what he was leaving was really what he was seeking… peace, a sense of well-being and the time to take a bit of joy from life.
That was all he really wanted. He'd been set on this course of revenge for nearly a year, without pause for anything, including his own happiness. And now, in this place and in this time, he'd found a brief respite, a few quiet moments to forget all that the pirate Blackbeard had wrought on his family.
"You're cold," she said. "Were you in the water again?"
He nodded distractedly as he stared at the shoreline. "In the dark, it almost looks right to me," he said. "I can nearly believe I'm there. I had a room at an inn that used to stand on that bit of land." Griffin pointed to the base of the bridge that now crossed Old Town Creek.
"It must be hard for you to be away from your home," she said.
Griffin shrugged. "My home is the sea, it always has been. And the sea hasn't changed at all in three hundred years."
"Haven't you ever thought about settling down? About marrying and having a family?"
He glanced at her, meeting her questioning gaze in the soft morning light. His sweet Merrie, always so direct, so interested in what was inside his mind and heart. "Once," Griffin replied, banishing the image of his son's tiny grave from his mind. "But then, it became clear that I did not deserve as much."
"I don't understand," Merrie said. "Why would you not deserve to be happy?"
"I live my life on my ship, Merrie. And a wife and family must stay on dry land. I would not make a good husband or a good father."
Meredith squeezed his arm. "Don't say that. How do you know until you've actually tried?"
Griffin turned his head and stared out toward the Pamlico. He should tell Merrie exactly how he knew. Yet speaking of his failure as a husband and father only brought back a rush of paralyzing guilt and pain. Merrie saw him as a good and honorable man, and what she believed of him mattered. "I know," he said softly, slipping his arm around her shoulder. He pulled her into the circle of his embrace and she wrapped her arms around his waist.