The Pirate

by Kate Hoffmann

  So Tank had told Early, she mused, quickly forgetting her resolve. And Griffin had told Tank he was looking for work-before Meredith had told Griffin that Kelsey had told herthat there might be a way for Griffin to get home. Meredith stopped in the middle of the produce section, dizzy from trying to sort out all the conversational connections.

  Maybe she would do well to put the whole matter out of her mind. The fact was, as long as Griffin had hope, he would try to return. And as long as he stayed, she, too, would harbor a hope of her own. But for now, she'd have to keep her hope, and her fantasies, in check.

  Ten minutes later, Meredith made her way to the tiny marina, a grocery bag clutched in each arm. As she walked down the dock, she caught sight of Griffin sitting in the cockpit of the twenty-five-foot sloop they'd rented. His attention was focused on a navigational chart he held out in front of him.

  She stopped and slowly placed the bags on the dock, then straightened, her gaze coming to rest on Griffin. He was a devastatingly handsome man, there was no denying that fact. And Jenny hadn't been the only one on the island to notice. He'd elicited a number of appreciative stares, from sixteen-year-old schoolgirls to gray-haired grandmothers.

  She watched as he brushed his wind-whipped hair back from his face, revealing a startlingly perfect profile. How could any woman help staring? His dark, brooding good looks were like a magnet to the eyes. She'd caught herself watching him so many times over the past few days, wondering whether she really knew him at all, or whether he was as he appeared-an enigma.

  Even if he stayed, he'd never lack for feminine companionship. Merrie's heart twisted at the thought and all her self-confidence drained out of her body. How could she have thought she'd be able to hold his interest? She was a shy, boring history professor who had never been able to attract much more than a mild interest from the opposite sex.

  "Too bookish" had been used to describe her on more than one occasion, and that came from men who spent just as much time with their books as she did! The descriptive "cold fish" and the ever-popular "painfully proper" had also been applied to her, according to Kelsey.

  Meredith sighed. He was grateful for her help, and that was the limit of his feelings for her. She hadn't seen desire in his eyes, she'd seen gratitude. And all his talk about honor was simply a smoke screen so he wouldn't have to kiss her again!

  He didn't find her sexually attractive in the least. She had waited for him each night, hoping that he'd need comfort and come to her. But when she awoke at dawn, she found the other side of her bed cold and empty. With a body as unremarkable as hers, was it any wonder he had thought she was a boy that first night?

  "Merrie-girl!"

  Meredith blinked hard, bringing her thoughts back to the present. She forced a smile and waved at Griffin, suddenly uneasy in his presence. Could he tell she'd been thinking of him?

  He stood up in the cockpit. "She is a fine little sloop. With this boat, I could sail across the Atlantic and back by myself!"

  "We're going to Bath," Meredith said, "and no farther."

  He sent her a powerful smile and her knees grew weak. "Ah, but Merrie, I would show you the world, if I could. Come on board, and we'll sail away this very moment."

  At his casual words, a tremble of uncontrolled regret shook her to the core. If only it were so simple. If only he wanted her. But no matter how far they sailed, nothing would change the fact that they were simply friends, two strangers who had been thrown together by fate.

  "Come, Merrie, let's take a sail around the harbor. I need to practice."

  With a hesitant nod, she picked up the groceries and headed toward the boat. Griffin deftly leaped onto the dock and took both bags from her arms, then helped her into the cockpit.

  "All right," Merrie said. "You're the captain."

  "And you'll make a fine first mate, Merrie-girl. Now, go forward and cast off that line for me."

  Meredith arched her eyebrow at his suddenly stern manner, then did as she was told. Today, they would sail for fun. But tomorrow, they would sail to Bath, and once again they would try to find a way for him to return to his own time.

  And if they succeeded, Griffin would be gone from her life. Forever.

  The salt breeze skimmed across the water, kicking up sprightly whitecaps on the blue surface of the wide Pamlico River. Mare's-tail clouds trailed across the azure sky, the colors a reflection of the sea below, where their white-sailed sloop sliced through the water.

  Meredith sat in the cockpit and watched Griffin steer the boat before the brisk wind. They'd been on the water since sunrise, sailing across the Sound and up the Pamlico River. After their sail around the harbor the previous afternoon, Griffin had easily adjusted to the new technology of the sloop, instinctively knowing which lines controlled which functions. She was right-sailing hadn't changed much in the nearly three hundred years that stood between them. But then, Griffin had spent most of his life on the water.

  They passed the time in idle conversation, Meredith relating stories of the breezy days she'd spent on her father's shrimp boat, wrapped in a blanket, her nose stuck in a history book; and the sunny days they'd spent in the harbor, her father teaching her to navigate the little sailboat he'd built for her. He'd been a man who loved the water and she had inherited his fascination with all things seaworthy. But like her father, she was wary of the weather, always keeping one eye on the horizon, ready for the worst.

  She had hoped that talk of her life would encourage Griffin to speak of his own. She knew of his father and mother, but was still left to wonder just who Griffin Rourke really was.

  Meredith sighed inwardly and stared up at the sky, watching a gull dip and sway on the wind. Though the day hadn't been conducive to enlightening conversation, at least it was perfect for sailing. Out on the Sound, she had bundled up against the wind. But once they reached the sheltered waters of the Pamlico River, the afternoon sun had warmed her. They ate a picnic lunch while still under sail near Pamlico Point, the place where the river emptied into the Sound.

  It was nearly dinnertime when they made the turn into Bath Creek, a wide tributary more aptly compared to a river than a stream. The shallow draft of the sloop made navigating simple, but Meredith kept her eyes on the charts, anyway. The colonial town sat on the water's edge, much as it had in the early 1700s, when it served as the first port of entry and the seat of colonial government in North Carolina.

  Griffin seemed suddenly still, staring beyond the bow of the boat at the small waterside town. The breeze fluttered in his hair, the only sign that he was a mortal man and not some marble likeness of an ancient sea god.

  "Do you recognize anything?" she asked softly.

  He nodded slowly. "Some. The shoreline looks a bit changed."

  "More than a few storms have roared through here in the past three centuries," she explained.

  "There are more houses in some places and less in others, but they have changed also." He cocked his head toward the bridge that spanned the creek ahead of them. "And that wasn't there."

  "None of the structures from your time have survived. But there are some clues that have been found." She pointed off to the starboard. "Blackbeard had a home over there, on Plum Point, isn't that right?"

  He nodded again, silently studying the wooded area. "He has built himself a fine home, for a pirate," Griffin murmured, as if he could see the house in his mind's eye. "Teach fancies himself quite a gentlemen. He hosts lavish entertainments at his home. And he boasts that there is not a home in the colony to which he wouldn't be welcome for dinner." The last was said with more than a trace of bitterness.

  She found it so strange to hear him speak of Blackbeard as if the man were still alive. He didn't say much, but Meredith could see his anger toward the pirate simmering near the surface. Still, she felt a familiar sense of satisfaction in his simple explanation, the same feeling she had when she found an original source to confirm one of her historical suppositions. Everything he'd told her so far had slipped
into the annals of history without much dispute.

  Suddenly, she wanted to know everything she could about Blackbeard. If speaking of the pirate might keep Griffin here longer, then so be it. She would ask all the questions she wanted, without guilt or remorse. And her book would be better for Griffin's time here.

  She would write down everything she told him and they would talk for hours about his experience. And then, when all the questions had been asked, she would know that he had been brought forward to help with her work and not to encourage her fantasy. But would he then disappear from her life? Or had Griffin Rourke been brought here to stay?

  "There is a depression in the ground, right over there," she said. "And ruins from a foundation. And in a shallow field between the point and Bath, there was a round brick oven which we think was used by Blackbeard to boil tar for caulking his ships."

  "I know the oven you speak of," he said distractedly. "I have seen it many times. When the tar boils, it can be smelled for miles."

  "It's not there anymore. So many tourists came to visit it, they trampled the farmer's field, so he covered the oven with dirt and plowed it over. You can also see the ruins of the foundation of Governor Eden's house over there." She pointed across the port side.

  "This seems familiar, the land and the water, yet it is not."

  "Do you think you can find the place where you fell in?"

  "It is here," he said.

  "Here?" Meredith asked.

  Griffin moved to drop the sails. She scrambled to the bow and grabbed hold of the anchor and heaved it in, playing out the line until she felt the anchor hit bottom. The boat drifted and then slowly stopped as the anchor held. As she crawled back to the cockpit, she saw Griffin smiling at her.

  "Why didn't you say something? I didn't realize this was the place that…" A rush of warmth flooded her body and for a brief instant, she lost herself in his pale blue eyes. "What?" she asked.

  "What?"

  "You're laughing at me," she said, the warmth now flushing her face.

  "You are a fine sailor, Merrie."

  "You find that odd?"

  "For a woman. I find your sailing talents quite…useful, practical."

  She glanced up at him. "Thank you for the roundabout compliment, Captain Rourke. And that has been my life's goal, to prove myself useful to a man."

  He groaned and shook his head. "You have misunderstood me again. I also find it admirable. You are a woman of many talents, Merrie."

  She jumped to her feet and dropped a mocking curtsy, then sat down again. "Aye, Captain, that I am."

  Griffin secured the tiller then took a seat across from her. His gaze drifted past her, over the water to the town. "I know Bath Town as a much rougher place," he said. "It looks almost deserted now."

  "The big ships don't come in here anymore, so there isn't much commerce-just a fine collection of historic houses, a lovely old church and about two hundred people. But I think it's one of the most beautiful and serene places in North Carolina. I've come here many times while researching my-" She stopped herself, realizing she'd nearly mentioned her book on Blackbeard. "Researching," she repeating.

  "Well, we might as well be about our business now before the sun goes down." Griffin reached down and tugged off his deck shoes. Then he stood up and stripped off his shirt.

  His chest gleamed under the late afternoon light, rippled muscle and hard flesh. Her fingers clenched spasmodically as she remembered her exploration of his body the last time he'd come to her bed. How she had wanted to touch him, to prove to herself that he was a flesh-and-blood man, a man who would respond to her touch, and not just the fantasy hero of her dreams.

  He reached for the waistband of his trousers. She gulped hard. "Wha-what are you doing?"

  "I'm going to get wet, Merrie-girl, the same way I did that night. Turn your head. I would not want to offend your tender sensibilities."

  He tugged the trousers down along his narrow hips and she quickly closed her eyes.

  "You can't just take off all your clothes and jump in!" she cried.

  "And why not? If I can wear a dress on the main street of Ocracoke Village, certainly my nakedness in the middle of Old Town Creek would not cause eyebrows to rise."

  She felt the boat rock slightly and then heard a splash. Slowly, she opened her eyes and peered overboard. He broke the surface right tinder her nose, water sluicing over his shoulders. Tiny droplets clung to his dark lashes, like diamond chips, and she found herself suddenly unable to catch her breath.

  "Brrr, it's cold," he growled, shaking his head and scattering the diamonds across the blue water.

  Lord, he was glorious, and even more so without clothes. She cursed her cowardice. She should have looked when she'd had the chance. After all, just when was the last time she'd seen a naked man. An image came to mind and she winced. The sight of Griffin in the buff would easily supplant thatmemory.

  She tried to make out the details of his body through the wavering water, but then he kicked away and swam out from the boat with strong, sure strokes, his shoulder and feet breaking the surface. For a moment, she glimpsed his bare backside and the line at his waist that marked his deeply tanned back.

  He stopped swimming about twenty yards from the boat, then turned back to look at her, lazily treading water as if he hadn't exerted himself in the least. "Well?" he called.

  "Well what?" she replied. Did he want her to comment on his swimming skills or was he waiting for her to swoon at the sight of his naked body?

  "This is the place and the time is about right," he said. "Do you see anything?"

  "Not as much as I'd like to see," she muttered softly.

  "What?" he called, frowning at her.

  "What am I supposed to see?" she called. "What did you see that night?"

  "I don't know. I was standing at the rail of the Adventureand I thought I heard someone behind me. I horned, and the next thing I knew, I was in your house, trussed up on your sofa."

  "Well, maybe you should just swim around for a while," Meredith suggested. "Slowly," she added.

  He did as he was told, circling the boat in a lazy crawl, his rippled back glinting wet in the diminishing light. She watched him for a long time, soaking up the sight of his nude body as it slipped through the water. The sun dipped lower on the horizon and then, in a red blaze, set behind the remains of Thistleworth Plantation, the home of the duplicitous Eden, friend to Blackbeard.

  He stopped swimming a few yards from the boat, then brushed his wet hair back from his face. "Nothing is happening," he said.

  "How do you feel?" Meredith asked.

  She thought she heard him curse. He looked up at her. "Cold, wet, and nothing more."

  Disappointment colored his voice and frustration was evident in his eyes.

  "Maybe you should come back on board."

  He glanced around once more, waiting, watching, then shrugged resignedly. With a knifelike movement, he kicked his feet out and submerged.

  "I'm sorry, Griffin," she murmured. "But we tried."

  Meredith waited for him to surface, but after fifteen seconds, he still hadn't come up for air. Thirty seconds passed, then sixty, and still he didn't come up.

  Meredith leaned over the combing and looked into the water. "Griffin?" she called. "Griffin!" The last was a desperate shout, her voice echoing across the width of the river. A clock ticked in her head, multiplying her anxiety with each second he remained underwater.

  Suddenly, a pair of wet arms circled her from behind. She screamed and twisted against the embrace. Griffin's deep chuckle sounded in her ear, sending a warm shudder through her body. "So ye thought I drowned, did ye?"

  "Let go of me!" Meredith protested. "You're wet! And cold!"

  He pulled her against him playfully, and she felt the subtle imprint of his body along her spine and backside. She squirmed in his arms until she faced him, then looked up into his eyes. Suddenly, the teasing smile faded from his face.

  He bent his h
ead and covered her mouth with his, his kiss swift and intense, his tongue plumbing the depths of her mouth until she felt as if she might lose consciousness.

  She returned his kiss in full measure, running her hands along his damp chest and twisting them around his neck. He moaned deep in his throat and drew her hard against him until she could feel his desire spring up against her belly.

  He did want her! Her heart sang and her senses whirled with the realization. Whether he was ready to admit it or not, he felt the same passion for her as she did for him! And at that moment, she realized that he had been brought here for a reason-to fulfill her fantasies.

  Then, just as quickly as he'd covered her mouth with his, he drew back. He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "Damn, Merrie, you sorely tempt me," he whispered. "You must not allow this to happen again."

  "Me?" she asked, breathless. "I-I don't understand."

  "Do not ask me why, for I am not sure I would be able to explain. Call it a point of honor. I know you've encountered scoundrels in your past and I will not be counted among them. Your reputation will not be sullied any further than it already has."

  "Sully?" Meredith blinked hard and stared up at him, completely baffled by his words. Though she didn't know much about men, she certainly knew that sleeping together in the same bed was worth more "sully" points than a simple kiss! Sure, he wasnaked now, but his state of undress didn't even enter into the picture. If he was worried about her reputation, he should have stayed out of her bedroom, not out of her arms.

  "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.