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."

3

"I cannot wear these garments! I will look the fool!"

Meredith stood outside the bathroom door, her shoulder braced on the wall. "The clothes are fine, Griffin. You can't walk around in that pirate outfit. People will stare. Now get dressed, we're in a hurry."

The door flew open and Griffin stood in front of her, dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts. "They will stare if I wear this. I would not show my knees in public!"

A laugh escaped Meredith's throat. She pressed her fingers to her lips. Finding underwear for Griffin had been the most difficult of her shopping tasks on the island. Most people shopped on the mainland or at the mall in Nags Head for their essentials. But barring a long shopping trip, she'd been forced to settle for the silk boxers she'd found at a local souvenir shop. The fabric was decorated with little buccaneer's heads, each one complete with eye patch, tricorn and dagger clenched between teeth.

Her gaze wandered the length of his body and she felt a delicious shiver skitter up her spine. Griffin had an incredible physique, a body any woman would find attractive. His legs were long and muscular, and the boxer shorts only seemed to enhance his flat belly and narrow waist. His broad chest was tanned golden brown, and for an instant she could imagine him on the deck of a ship, the sun beating down on his skin, the salt breeze whipping his dark hair around his face.

For a moment, she was tempted to tell him that if he expected to live in the twentieth century, he would have to wear boxer shorts twenty-four hours a day. But he seemed so upset by the prospect that she reluctantly decided to tell him the truth.

"You're wearing underwear," Meredith explained. "I bought you several pairs of pants. You put those on overthe underwear."

Frowning, Griffin stepped back into the bathroom and emerged a few minutes later with a pair of khaki cotton pants he'd pulled from a bag. He held them up against his waist and examined them, then tugged them on in front of her as if dressing in front of a female caused him no embarrassment at all.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"I feel warmer, at least," he said. "What is this?" He stared down at the zipper in confusion. "There are no buttons here."

"That's a zipper," Meredith said. "Just tug up on that little tab."

He fumbled with the zipper. "I cannot. You do this for me." He braced his hands on his hips and waited.

Meredith's eyes widened. "You can do it," she urged, twisting her fingers in front of her and giving him an encouraging smile.