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 marryyou?"
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 myvirtue 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.
When he was dressed in body-hugging jeans and a torn T-shirt, she could almost believe that he had been born in the same decade as she had. His speech had even slipped into more familiar patterns and as time passed, he seemed more comfortable with his surroundings.
Meredith sighed. Who was she trying to fool? When it came right down to it, he was still Griffin Rourke-a man whose heart and soul belonged to the past.
7
Meredith thought Griffin might come to her bed that night, but he didn't. She woke at least once to hear him pacing outside her bedroom door. Several times he stopped and she could imagine his hand gripping the knob. She slowed her breathing and pretended to sleep, but he didn't venture inside. Finally, the house had grown silent and she'd drifted off into a dreamless slumber.
When she awoke, it was well past dawn. From the living room, she could hear Ben Gunn carrying on a onesided conversation from his perch next to her desk. Meredith rolled out of bed and stretched, grateful that Griffin had already left for work and relieved that she wouldn't have to face him.
The last thing she wanted to discuss was his marriage proposal. She knew her refusal had stung his considerable pride, but there was much more to be solved between them before they could consider a future together. If he truly was here to stay, then she would have time… time to make him love her-before she told him why she really believed he'd come to her.
She pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then padded to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.
"Morning!" Ben cried, adding a wolf whistle to his cheerful greeting.
"Good morn-"
Meredith cut short her reply to the gray parrot. She and the bird were not alone. Griffin stood in front of the fire-place, staring into an empty grate, his arms braced on the mantel, the muscles of his back tense beneath the soft fabric of his paint-spattered T-shirt. Her gaze drifted to the tight contours of his backside. The man was meant for denim, she mused.
Griffin slowly turned to face her. Her hesitant smile faded when it met a mask of cold indifference. He stared at her for a long moment. When he didn't speak, she did.
"It's late. Why aren't you at work?" she asked, watching him warily.
Her words seemed to crack his icy facade and he raised a dark eyebrow. "When did you plan to tell me, Merrie?"
Meredith ran her fingers through her hair. "What are you talking about? Tell you what?"
He reached over and picked up a stack of papers from her desk, then held them out to her. "About this," he said, waving them at her. "Your work. The subject of the book you're writing."
Meredith's breath caught in her throat. "You searched my desk?"
He let out a laugh, a harsh sound without a trace of humor. "Of course I searched your desk. You forget, Merrie, I'm a spy. If I need information, I make it my business to find it."
"You had no right," Meredith said softly.
"No right!" Ben mimicked.
Griffin glared at the bird, then leveled a cool gaze on her. "I had no right? I had every right," he said, his voice deceptively even. "When, Merrie? How long did you expect to keep this from me?"
She stepped back, surprised at the intensity of his tightly leashed anger, and unable to answer. How long? She had never wantedto keep it from him, there had just never seemed to be a good time to tell him. And then, later, it didn't make any difference.
"Tell me now," Griffin demanded. "Tell me that you have spent years studying the man I despise, that you plan to write a book glorifying his crimes. Tell me that you would do anything to learn more about Teach. Tell me that you are the reason I am here. For 'tis the only thing that makes sense," he said. "Youbrought me here, Merrie. Now, tell me how you did it!"
"I don't know!" she cried. "I've searched my brain since the night you arrived, but I can't recall anything that would have prompted you to land here. But you're not here because of my work, that much I do know."