He rowed hard, until he was drenched in sweat and his muscles burned in protest. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he felt the sand beneath the boat. Scrambling over the side, he pulled it up on shore. In the distance, he could still hear sporadic pistol shots, but the battle seemed to be drawing to a close. He had no way of knowing who had triumphed, but he had to trust Merrie's history books.
The pirates would be captured and he and Merrie would be safe on Ocracoke until help arrived.
Gently, he gathered her in his arms and carried her onto the beach, then settled her at the base of a dune. Dropping to his knees, he held her close, cradled against his body. She was so cold and still. "Do not leave me, Merrie," he whispered against her cheek. "I traveled across time to find ye, and I will not lose ye now."
Bracing her against his chest, he tore the sleeve of her blouse away and examined her wound. The ball had grazed the fleshy part of her upper arm and the bleeding had already slowed. "'Tis not as bad as I thought," Griffin murmured, needing to hear his own words as comfort.
He hastily retrieved the sail and spread it out on the sand, then laid Merrie on top of it. With his dagger, he pried the plug from the water keg. The pungent smell of rum wafted up to his nose. "Damn," he muttered. He took a long swallow to calm his nerves. "We will use it to clean your wound, Merrie-girl, for 'tis not fit for you to drink." He snatched up the other keg and prayed that it would contain water. If Merrie grew feverish, he'd need fresh water and finding it on Ocracoke was near to impossible.
To his relief, the keg did contain water, stale but potable. He gently washed her wound and then poured a bit of rum on it for good measure. His linen shirt, torn into strips, made adequate bandages, and before long, he'd made her as comfortable as possible.
The afternoon sun was warm and the breeze gentle, so Griffin laid the wet blankets over a stand of sea grass, knowing they would be needed as soon as the sun began to sink below the western horizon. "Tomorrow morning, there will be fishermen and trading ships passing near this island," he said, pressing her against his bare chest for warmth. "But for tonight, we are on our own, Merrie."
Griffin lay down on the sail and pulled Merrie against his body, taking care not to jostle her wound. He pressed his lips to her forehead, relieved to find that she hadn't grown feverish. Her skin felt cool and smooth and he gave her a soft kiss. "Wake up, Merrie-girl. Wake up and look at me with those emerald eyes of yours. Come on, Merrie." He reached down and stroked her temple with his fingers, watching her face, drinking in the sight of her after so many days apart.
Her eyelids fluttered, then opened. She looked at him with a groggy gaze. "Griffin?"
He smiled. "Hello, Merrie-girl."
"You're alive," she murmured. "I've missed you so much."
"And I have missed you," he said. "More than you will ever know. How do you feel?"
She frowned. "I-I hurt. My arm. What happened?"
"Nothing for you to worry about. You will be fine. I swear I will let no harm come to you."
She gazed up at him sleepily. "Good. I'm fine…the baby… is fine. We're all… fine." Her eyes slowly drifted shut. Griffin pressed his palm to her forehead. She did feel a bit warmer. He cursed softly. The fever was starting and she was losing touch with reality. She was mixing up his past with her present, his dead child with her injury.
He grabbed what was left of his shirt and soaked it with water, then dabbed it on her forehead. "I will not lose you, Merrie. We will have a long life together, you and I."
While Merrie slept, Griffin built a fire at the base of the dune, big enough to provide some warmth, but small enough not to attract attention. There was no way of knowing whether any of the pirates had escaped the battle, and he was ill prepared to deal with them now.
As he bent over to throw another piece of driftwood onto the fire, Merrie cried out his name. She sat straight up, her glazed eyes frantically searching for him, her breath coming in short pants.
"I-I thought you were gone."
He returned to her side, gathering her into his embrace. "I am here. I will not leave you, I promise."
Her breathing gradually calmed and he felt her relax in his arms. "I'll never leave you," he said, tracing the perfect curve of her bottom lip with his thumb. "You taught me to love again. After I lost Jane, I was dead. All I cared about was finding a way to numb the pain, first with drink, then with women and then with my scheme to bring down Teach. You were right, though. He didn't cause my father's death. And I think I knew that all the time."
"But I felt empty for such a long time, and my thirst for vengeance seemed to make me feel again. Even though it was hate, at least I felt alive. And then I met you, and you saved my life, first on your beach and then on the Adventure, but most important, you saved me with your love."
"And slowly, all the hate seemed to drain out of me and I was filled with you. I should never have left you, Merrie." Griffin smiled and shook his head. "I loved you and I let you down. And someday, maybe I will be able to say this all to you again, so you might hear me and understand. But for now, know that I love you more than life itself."
Griffin touched his mouth to hers then buried his face in her silken hair. How could he have been such a fool? If he'd stayed with her as she'd begged him to, she would never have been hurt. But in his stubborn quest for vengeance, he had risked her life, and for that, he would never forgive himself.
During the night, Merrie's condition worsened. She tossed and turned, crying out in pain. She fought against the blankets, but as soon as he removed them, she began to shiver violently. He drizzled rum and water into her mouth with the rag and spoke softly to her of the life they would share and the love in his heart. She babbled of pirates and babies, begged for Kelsey and screamed at someone named Delia. And then she talked to her mother and father as if she were still a child.
Finally, she drifted off to sleep, the rum finally taking effect. Sleeplessly, Griffin watched her, listening to her ragged breathing, counting the minutes until dawn and cursing his inability to help her.
And sometime, during the darkest moments of night, he began to pray, begging God to spare the only woman he had ever loved. A woman who held his heart and soul in her very hands.
The words came to her in a haze. Go to sleep, Merrie-girl. And if I am gone when you wake, you will think this has all been a dream. A dream… a delicious dream.
Meredith slowly opened her eyes, squinting against the bright light. For a moment, she wondered where she was, but then she nestled beneath the blanket and sighed. She'd just sleep a bit longer. Maybe if she was lucky, she could slip back into the fantasy again. The pirate… the battle… the bedroom. This time, it seemed so real.
But as she tried to go back to sleep, the rest of the world seemed determined to wake her up. A cool breeze chilled her face and the gulls and the waves were particularly loud this morning, adding to the nagging headache she had. She reached up to pull the blanket over her head and a sharp pain shot through her right arm.
"Ouch!" she cried, then opened her eyes. "What the devil is-"
"You're awake. How do you feel?"
With a cry of surprise, Meredith shaded her gaze and stared up at a tall shadowy figure that blocked the light. The silhouette was familiar, broad shoulders, narrow waist, muscular legs…and long hair that whipped about in the breeze. Her dream… could this be her pirate? Meredith slowly raised herself, bracing against her good arm.