He wasn't here to seduce her. In fact, she suspected what he was feeling right now was paralyzing fear. He clung to her, his face buried against her stomach as if she was the only familiar thing in this unfamiliar world. Strange, how such a fierce man could suddenly reveal such a vulnerable side of himself. Meredith moved her fingers to his forehead, smoothing the hair away from his brow.

It felt so natural to touch him, as if they'd known each other forever. Yet, she knew that wasn't true. They barely knew each other at all. But they did share an astounding secret and in that, they became unwitting companions, confidants, strangers who had no one else but each other to cling to while they untangled the mysteries of his trip through time.

"Why am I here?" he said.

"I don't know," Meredith replied. She searched her mind for an explanation, any explanation. As she ran the situation around in her mind, a slow, sick feeling gripped her stomach.

Oh, Lord, maybe it wasn't fate that had brought him here. Maybe it was her fault! Meredith sank back into the pillows and stared at the ceiling, unable to untangle what had happened in the past twelve hours. So maybe she did have occasional fantasies about pirates. That certainly didn't mean she'd summoned this man out of his own time and into the twentieth century.

Discounting that explanation, another came quickly to mind. Maybe she'd brought him here for professional reasons, to help with her work on Blackbeard. It seemed more than a coincidence that he was spying on the same man she was studying. The Sullivan Fellowship had become an all-consuming dream, but it was just that, a dream.

Was she really the one who'd caused this man such unhappiness? Had she somehow played God with his life and brought him here for her own selfish reasons?

"I've never seen anything like it," he murmured.

She looked down to find his eyes open and fixed on her face. He pushed up and braced his head on his elbow. His fingers toyed at a button on her nightshirt.

"Wha-what?" she stammered, realizing how close his fingers were to the bare skin above her breasts.

"I'm not sure what it was. It was like a carriage without horses. It moved under its own power. I looked for the sails, but I could not find them."

"It-it's called an automobile," she explained, pushing back a wave of guilt. "It was invented by Henry Ford in 1903. An engine makes it go, but don't ask me how. The internal workings of a car remains a mystery to most people."

"Have you ever ridden in a carriage like this?"

"I own one, but I left it on the mainland when I came here. Most people own their own car. There are some places in this country where there are roads that are six lanes across and cars travel very fast."

"How fast?"

"Seventy miles an hour."

Griffin frowned in disbelief. "Does this not harm a person, traveling at such a speed? Would his limbs not be torn from his body?"

"No," Meredith said. "We have airplanes that travel much-" She paused. There was no reason to tell him more. "Never mind."

He sat up and stared into her eyes. "I don't belong here," he said.

She nodded. "I know."

"I must return and finish what I have started."

"Do you mean Blackbeard?"

"I made a vow on my father's grave that I would avenge his death. Teach robbed me of my father. I plan to make him pay for that crime and all his others."

"How?" Meredith asked.

"I sail on Teach's ship, the Adventure," Griffin said. "I believe they would call me a spy. I work for Spotswood, the governor of Virginia. Like me, he is determined to bring the pirate down. The contents of the purse are the proof we need to bring action against Teach, to raise a force and capture him. He will be hung for his crimes and I will be there to see it done."

"I-I know a little bit about Blackbeard," Meredith explained, not willing to tell him everything. If her connection to Blackbeard was part of the reason he was here, she couldn't tell him. He'd only blame her. She'd have to find a way to return him to his own time, and then maybe she could tell him about her work. "I teach history at the College of William and Mary. I'm considered an expert in American maritime history."

He frowned. "You teach at William and Mary?"

She pushed herself up and turned to him, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on her knees. "Yes, me, a woman. In this day and age, women are considered equal to men. We have the same educational opportunities, we hold important jobs. I have a doctoral degree in history."

"William and Mary is for men, not women."

Meredith grinned. "Not anymore."

"So what do you know of Teach?"

She smiled. "He's probably the most famous pirate of all time. Everyone has heard of Blackbeard."

"And did he live a long life?"

"Blackbeard was killed on Friday, November twenty-second, 1718, when two ships under the command of Lieutenant Robert Maynard and under the orders of Governor Alexander Spotswood of Virginia attacked the pirate in Ocracoke Inlet. The battle happened in the waters just beyond the back door of this cottage."

Griffin rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes. "It will be done then, with or without me. My father's death will be avenged."

Meredith bit her lower lip and winced. "I don't think we can be sure of that now."

He sat up and stared at her, a deep scowl creasing his forehead. "Explain, please."

She drew a deep breath and tried to remember her science fiction. "There is a theory that says that events in history are… very fragile." She struggled to explain. "Think of time as a brick wall, course after course laid on top of each other but without mortar. If you remove one brick, the wall might fall, or it might not, depending upon how important the brick is. You're a brick in Blackbeard's wall," Meredith explained. "If you're not there to play your part, he may not fall."

"You have these-these automobiles that travel very fast. You say that a man has voyaged to the moon. So you must have a conveyance to send me back to my time."

A long silence grew between them.

"You do know the way, do you not?" Griffin asked.

"Griffin, we can cross the Atlantic in a few hours on a supersonic airplane, but I'm afraid we haven't yet invented a machine that can travel through time. But that doesn't mean there isn't a way. We just have to figure out how you got here. Once we do that, we'll be able to figure out how to send you back."

"We don't have much time, Merrie-girl," he said, exhaustion tinging his voice.

"No," Meredith replied. "We don't."

She reached out and placed her palm on his beard roughened cheek, giving him a tremulous smile. He leaned close then drew her into his arms. They clung to each other for a long time, silent, taking solace in each other's touch.

How much she'd come to care for Griffin and in such a short time. Was it merely because she might be at the root of all his problems? Or was it more? Had her secret fantasies of pirates suddenly taken on human form? Whatever these strange feelings might be, she knew she had to help him-she owed him that much.

"It will be all right," she said softly.

Slowly, he dragged her down into the bed, pulling her against his body, curling himself along her back and snuggling his chin against her shoulder. Eyes wide with shock, she lay next to him, afraid to move, not quite certain what he expected of her.

His warm breath teased at her ear and she listened as his breath grew soft and even. When he finally slept, she realized that she'd been foolish to think he wanted more from her. He was simply a man out of time, confused by all that had happened to him and in need of the comfort of another human being. He needed her for as long as he remained here, and she would be there for him, until they said their goodbyes.

As she let herself drift off to sleep, his muscled body pressed against hers, she realized that saying goodbye to a man like Griffin Rourke might be harder than she ever imagined.


Griffin stood on the narrow strip of sand behind the cottage, staring out at the water. Wispy clouds scudded across the sky, pushed along by the same brisk breeze that capped the waves with white. If he watched the water long enough, he could almost forget the strange place he'd come to and believe he was back home.

This sea had carried him from one century to another for a reason he had yet to comprehend. Maybe it held the answer to his return. He was tempted to walk into the surf, to let the waves cover his head, to breathe in the saltwater and let his body drift away on the current. But would it carry him back the way he came?

As if God was playing a foul trick on him, he had been snatched from his purpose and dropped here. There had been times when he'd wished for his own death, first when he'd been riddled with guilt after Jane and the baby had been taken by the fever while he was at sea. Then, when he had taken to drink to soothe his sorrow.

But after his father's untimely death, only revenge would do. His friends had claimed that to be a spy on Teach's ship was as much suicide as courage. But this place was not the noble death he had imagined, but merely a hellish exile where he would remain powerless to complete his plan.

Yet within this hell lived an angel. Merrie, his guardian, his rescuer. She was an odd girl, but then perhaps not so odd for this time. She was not what the gossips of his time would consider beautiful. But she was slender and graceful and strangely exotic to his own eyes. She had cropped her dark hair, yet it did not detract from her looks but enhanced them, drawing the eye to her face, to that smooth, ivory skin like the finest porcelain, unmarked by age or disease or dissipation.