The Pirate

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."

"If not your work, then what?"

"I-I can't tell you," she said. "It's just so crazy, even I don't believe it."

"Damn it, Merrie, I have a right to know exactly how and why you've manipulated my life."

She drew a deep breath. "You're my fantasy man," she said, the words coming out in a rush.

He gasped. "What?"

Meredith felt a blush creep up her cheeks and warm her skin. "I-I've had these dreams, these… sexual fantasies about a pirate. But they were just fantasies," she cried. "I didn't mean any harm. I didn't mean to bring you here, I swear it."

Griffin laughed harshly. "I have been in your world long enough to know that many strange and unfathomable things are possible, but this I do not believe. I was not brought here to take you to bed! I would not have been taken from my task simply to satisfy some woman's erotic fantasies."

"Then why?" she challenged. "Nothing else makes sense. I know more about Teach than you do. Nothing you've told me is new. At first I was afraid to talk to you about Blackbeard for fear you might be snatched back into your own time. Kelsey warned me that to do so might alter history in some way."

"You've already altered history," he said. "You brought me here, and took me from my task."

Meredith rubbed at the growing knot of tension in her temple. "If I was the cause of your coming here, I'm sorry. And if I could undo it, I would."

"Then there has to be more," he muttered. "We have missed something. You have missed something." His voice was cold and accusatory.

"If I knew how to send you back, don't you think I would?"

"I don't know, Merrie. Would you?"

"How can you even think that?" she asked.

He cursed beneath his breath. "What, then? I am just left to live out my life in this time and place."

She threw up her hands in frustration. "You make it sound so appealing," she said. "Do you find life here that objectionable?"

"I had a life, in my owncentury," Griffin said, punctuating his words with a jab to his chest. "It is not so simple to forget that."

She scoffed. "A life? You had an all-consuming plan for revenge. Is that what you call a life?" Meredith demanded.

Her aim was true and her volley hit its mark. Griffin cursed, then turned away, bracing his hands on the mantel again. She could feel his anger all the way across the room, could see it in his tightly coiled body, could hear it in his harsh breathing.

"Is this plan for revenge that important to you?" she asked, wanting to reach out and touch him, to soothe his anger. "If so, why didn't you kill Teach when you had the chance, on his ship, while he slept?"

He refused to face her. "To murder him would make me no better than the criminal he is. Teach was responsible for my father's death. I will be sure he pays for his crime."

"Tell me about that," she said. "I mean, if you've been brought here for my research then why don't we take advantage of it while we can. My research says that Black-beard was not a bloodthirsty murderer. Though I have read of his capture of the Betty, I have yet to find a record of him killing a man named Rourke."

Griffin turned, his eyes hard with anger. "He did not kill him by his hand," he said. "Teach killed him by his deeds."

"And what does that mean? Explain it to me. Make me understand."

Griffin's expression softened slightly and he drew a deep, steadying breath. "When Teach attacked the Betty, he put everyone on board ashore. My father watched as the pirates scuttled the ship and it sank off Cape Charles. When he returned home, my father wasn't… right. Over the next several months, he grew very sad and quiet, the same as when he lost my mother. The doctors came and bled him, doused him with calomel, but it did no good. He died soon after."

Meredith's heart twisted in her chest. "Calomel? Are you sure of this?"

"Yes. What of it?"

She winced, then bit her bottom lip. Oh, Lord, she'd have to tell him. He needed to know. She drew a shaky breath. "Griffin, no matter how much you want to, you cannot blame your father's death on Teach." Her voice filled with sympathy for him, for she knew what she was -about to say would hurt him deeply.

"My father was a fine and healthy man until he ran afoul of the devil."

Meredith slowly crossed the room and took his hand in hers. He stiffened at her touch. "Your father became ill afterthis incident. And maybe his condition was brought on by his upsetting experience with Blackbeard," she said softly. "Or maybe he wasn't even sick, but simply depressed. The fact is, the medicine the doctors administered probably killed your father."

"No," Griffin said, shaking his head, suspicion clouding his blue eyes. "That cannot be so. They were the best physicians in Williamsburg. I made certain of that."

She squeezed his hand. "Calomel was made with mercury chloride. And mercury chloride is poisonous. George Washington, the first president of the United States, died from the effects of the same treatments your father probably received."

"Are-are you saying it was myfault?"

"Of course not," she cried. "You did what you thought was best for your father. You can't be blamed for the state of medicine at that time. I'm just saying that you might want to rethink your determination to bring down Blackbeard."

"Rethink?" Griffin asked, snatching his hand from hers. "What does that mean? That you don't agree with what I'm trying to do? The man is evil incarnate, Merrie, and someone has to put an end to his plague of piracy."

She clutched his arm. "I believe Teach needs to be stopped, too. But I don't believe you're the one to do it."

"And why is that? Because your history books tell a different story? Or because it soothes your conscience to think as much?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Consider for a moment that you were brought here for another reason."

"What might that be?"

"Maybe you were brought here for your own good. To protect you." She stalked over to the desk and pulled a file folder off a tall stack, then snatched a paper from inside. "Here," she said, holding it out to him. "This is a copy of a letter to the British Admiralty. It relates that at the end of the battle with Teach, Lieutenant Robert Maynard's men advanced on the few members of Blackbeard's crew who had retreated onto the pirate ship. During this time, one of Maynard's men was shot and killed by another member of the Royal Navy, when the man was mistaken for one of the pirates."

Griffin leaned back against the mantel and crossed his arms over his chest. "And what does this have to do with me?"

"That man could be you!" Meredith cried. "I've searched all my sources, but can find no reference to this man's name. If he were an official member of Maynard's crew, he would have been listed by name, but he's not. And he was mistaken for a pirate. You were a pirate on Teach's ship."

He shrugged. "But then, it may not be me," Griffin said. "How can you be sure?"

Meredith cursed beneath her breath and balled her fists at her side. "What more proof do you need? You were sent here to save your fool life!" she cried.

"I don't need anyone to save me," he countered. "Especially not you."

"Why, because I'm a woman? Because your stubborn male pride would not allow it?"

Griffin pushed off the mantel. "Because I can take care of my own affairs," he replied evenly, an arrogant glint in his eyes. "And I would not burden anyone else, not even you, with my problems."

"And damn anyone who cares about you, is that it?" Meredith said.

"That is not what I meant," he replied. "The habit of putting words into my mouth does not become you, Merrie."

"How can I help it?" she said. "You never explain yourself, so I'm left to do it for you."

"I do not need to explain myself to you or anyone else."

Meredith shook her head. "Just because you allow yourself to need someone, to heed someone else's advice, doesn't mean you're weak. It means you're human." She paused, then asked him the question she knew would decide their future together. "Tell me the truth, Griffin. If you could go back, right this instant, would you?"

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. The silence hung between them. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke, gazing directly into her eyes. "Yes," he said. "I would."

Meredith laughed bitterly. "Then I guess I was right not to take your marriage proposal too seriously."

Griffin stalked across the room and grabbed her upper arms. "That has nothing at all to do with my desire to go back and finish what I began. Just because I want to return, does not mean that I expect to return."

"So I am merely part of your contingency plan?"

"Damn it, Merrie, you test my patience!" he snapped, giving her a gentle shake. "And you put words in my mouth again. What do you want me to tell you? You ask for the truth, but when I speak it, you don't like what you hear. I care for you, more than I've ever cared about a woman in my life. Is that not enough?"

"Then why do you want to go back?"

He loosened his grip, then rubbed her arms with his palms. "I would not be a man if I did not finish this fight with Teach. These are two different issues, you and Teach. How can you speak of them as if they are one?"

She shook her head. "If you don't know, then we have nothing more to discuss," she said in a quiet voice.

Griffin raked his hands through his hair. "On this one point, I will concede you may be right," he said. "We will speak of this no longer. I must get to work." He strode toward the door.

"We will speak of this again," she corrected. "We'll continue this discussion when you get home."

He froze for an instant, his hand on the knob. But then he shook his head, opened the door and pulled it closed behind him.

"Stubborn fool," Meredith muttered.

"Stubborn fool, stubborn fool," Ben repeated.

Griffin strode through the chill morning air, his breath visible in icy puffs in front of his face. But he barely noticed the cold, so intent was he on his thoughts.

"Stubborn wench," he muttered. "I vow, I have never met a woman like her!"

Always, she had an opinion, and always, she believed shewas right! What had happened to the fair sex over the past three centuries? The women in his world were quiet, complacent, always happy to defer to a man's greater experience and authority. Thiswas what he'd been brought up to believe was the paragon of womanhood.

"Instead, I am forced to live with an acid-tongued virago who insists on knowing my every thought and feeling," he added. And to make matters worse, after he'd been forced to reveal himself, she wanted to discuss it all at great and detailed length! Was he to keep nothing to himself in this world of hers?

But the worst was not her prying, but her meddling in his life. A man was supposed to make the decisions where his own life was concerned. She acted as if she had a say in the choices he made and the course he set for himself.

Jane had not expected-Griffin stopped himself. Merrie was not Jane and to compare the two would be unfair to both. Merrie was a woman living in a world so changed from his, it was barely recognizable. How could she help but be different from Jane? He cursed himself roundly. And how could he blame her for simply being herself? And for caring about him?

He should be happy that someone did care. After all, he had no one left in this world, not a single person who gave a damn whether he lived or died. But she cared. She showed it in every little thing she did for him, every kind gesture and sweet smile and gentle touch.

Truth be told, he loved her exactly the way she was. Merrie would not be Merrie with a timid smile and a yielding nature. He loved her fire and her passion and her inquisitive spirit. He loved her intelligence and quick wit. He loved…

Griffin stopped at the side of the road and frowned. Damn, was that it? Did he love her? He groaned, then cursed softly. No, he wouldn't allow himself such foolishness. But then…

Perhaps he did love her. Yet how could he be certain of his feelings? He'd never been in love before. In fact, he had never even considered the notion. Love was meant for sentimental poets and blushing virgins.

But his feelings for Merrie ran as deep and as strong as an ocean current, drawing him toward her against all will. It mattered not that he steered away from her, her pull was ever present and impossible to fight.

Then why was he still determined to return to his own time? Was it because of Teach? Or was it because he couldn't bear to open his life to another woman, to risk the pain that it might cause? He had cared deeply about Jane and it had nearly killed him when he lost her. He couldn't imagine living if he ever lost Merrie.

Perhaps that was part of it. But there was more…much more. Here, in her world, he felt as if he was incomplete in some way. As if part of his being had been left behind in his own time. Teach was waiting for him. But to be honest, the pirate was not the objective, but simply a means to an end. A way to finally say goodbye to his father.

With Jane and the baby, there had been a reason for their deaths, a reason he couldn't fight. But with his father, he'd just watched him fade before his very eyes, unable to understand why he had chosen to abandon his life and unable to do anything to bring him back. To destroy Teach might somehow give meaning to his father's death.

How could he explain this to Merrie in a way that she would understand? She would never comprehend the sense of family duty his father had instilled in him, the strong moral fiber and uncompromising honor by which he lived his life. These were things a man did not speak of, for they were the fabric of his very soul.

No, these things were not meant to be said aloud. Griffin picked up his pace until he was nearly running. She would never understand.

The harbor was already bustling with activity when he arrived at Early Jackson's dock. The shrimp boat sat in its cradle at the edge of the water, the hull nearly scraped bare. He circled the boat, admiring the practical lines and sturdy construction. The shrimper had been built by hand, the same way boats of his time had. He knocked his fist on the hull and listened to the solid, dependable sound.

"Morning, Griff."

Griffin glanced up to see Early Jackson ten feet above him, hanging over the side of the boat with a bucket in his hand. He smiled. "Morning, Early. I didn't see you up there."

The spritely old man crawled over the side and scrambled down the ladder. "You're a little slow getting in this morning."

Griffin shrugged. "Sorry. I'll work later tonight."

"Naw, I don't care if you take some time for yourself. You've been working so hard these past few days, I'm sure Meredith would like to keep you at home a little longer."

Griffin nodded and peered inside the bucket, then pulled out his favorite scraper. Without a word, he set to work, scraping the wood with strong, sure strokes. Early watched him with a bemused expression.

"Is everything all right between you and Meredith?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?" Griffin replied.

"Because, if you scrape much harder, you're going to scrape a hole right through the hull. You might feel better if you talk about it."

Griffin stood up. Why was every facet of his personal life open for discussion in this century? He braced his fists on his hips, ready to tell Early it was none of his business. But then he thought better of it, and replaced his retort with a question. "Are you married, Early?"

The old man rubbed his whiskered chin. "Yep. Nearly forty years… and to the same gal, I might add."

"May I pose a question to you?"

Early shrugged. "Sure. Pose away."

"Who has the last word in your household? You or your wife?"

"She does," Early said without a moment's thought.

Griffin frowned, certain that he had not made himself clear. "What I mean to ask is, who is in command?"

"She is," Early said.

Griffin cleared his throat. "I don't believe you understand my question. Let me restate it. Do you consider her opinion in all that you do?"

Early snorted, then chuckled. "Are you crazy?"

He smiled, relieved that he'd finally gotten the answer he wanted. Things were not so different here.

"Of course I do," Early continued. "I'm no fool, boy."

Griffin opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, considering Early's answer for a moment. "This is common then," he finally asked, "this bowing to your wife's will?"

"Me and Millie just figured that marriage should be an equal partnership. I give a little, she gives a little. It keeps things interesting and on a nice even keel."

"An equal partnership?"

"When we got married, most folks didn't think that way. But Millie made it clear she wouldn't marry me unless I respected her as an individual. Then came the women's movement, and now everybody pretty much thinks this way. I like to tell Millie we were ahead of our time."

"And this does not bother you… to give up control? Isn't it a bit like a ship with two captains?"

"I never really wanted control in the first place," Early said with a chuckle. "Not since I figured out that I loved the lady. After that, it didn't much matter. Besides, we usually take turns at the wheel, one of us steering while the other navigates. It makes the trip easier for the both of us." Early paused, then slapped Griffin on the shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll work it out. Meredith can be as stubborn as a cross-eyed mule. She gets that from her daddy. But she's got a good heart, something her mama had in spades."

"Yes," Griffin said quietly, "that she does." He smiled. "That she does."

"Now, seeing as how you're going to make up with Meredith, I suspect you'll be staying on the island for a while longer. I was wondering if you might want some more work. Me and the boys found two more shrimpers, but we don't have time to work on them both. We figured we'd give one to you to fix up. When we sell it, we'll split the profits right down the middle. Does that sound good?"

Griffin hesitated before he answered. To agree would be to admit that he would spend the rest of his life in this time and place. Was he really ready to do that, to give up on the past and go on with his future? "That sounds fair," he finally replied. "But I'd like to have a few days to consider your proposal, if you don't mind."

"I'm sure you'd like to discuss it with Meredith," Early said.

Griffin nodded. "Yes, I would. I'd like to discuss it with Merrie. To be honest, I think I would like to discuss it with her right now." He dropped the scraper in the bucket, then rubbed his palms on his thighs. "I'll be back in a few hours."

Early grinned. "You just take all the time you want, you hear? A lady shouldn't be rushed."

Griffin blinked in confusion, then nodded. "Thanks, Early. I appreciate your understanding."

With that, he turned and started for home. The trip back took only half the time that the trip to the harbor had, since Griffin was jogging most of the way. When he reached the cottage, he threw open the door and strode inside.

"Merrie?" The sound of his voice echoed throughout the house. "Merrie, where are you?"

"Merrie!" Ben squawked. "Merrie-girl!"

She emerged from the bathroom, a towel in her hand, her short hair damp and her rosy face looking as fresh and pretty as a dew-soaked flower. "What are you shouting about? Why aren't you at work?"

He crossed the room and grabbed her by the hand, then drew her toward the couch. "I have come to apologize," he said.

She watched him warily. A slow smile curled the corners of her mouth and she sighed. "Griffin, you don't owe me an apology. I'm the one who should apologize, for keeping all this from you. I just didn't know how to tell you, and I knew you would blame me."

"And I did," he said. "For that, I am truly sorry." He grabbed her other hand and wove his fingers through hers.

"I never meant for this to happen, Griffin, and I swear if I could change it, I would."

"I know."

"But I am not going to say I'm disappointed," she continued. "I refuse to say that. I'm happy you're here, especially if it will save your life."

"And I am happy to be here, too."

"You are?" Her eyes were wide with surprise.

"Yes. And I believe it is time to face the reality of this situation. I don't think I'm going to be able to get back, Merrie."

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. "I know."

"And if I was brought here to save my life, then I'd best get on with living it," he continued. "And to that end, I have made plans for us. Early Jackson has offered me a business opportunity. I will be able to provide a living for you. We can stay here on the island and make a good life for ourselves."

"You've decided this?"

"Yes. Of course, I am interested in hearing your opinion in this matter, but I know this is the right course to take."

She nodded. "I see."

"And I will say again that I believe we should get married. It seems the only logical step. We cannot continue to live together outside of wedlock. It would not be proper. Now, you may have your say in the matter, if you like… but it will not change my mind."

Merrie stared at him, openmouthed, her gaze clouded with disbelief. In that very instant, he knew he had said something wrong again. He just wasn't sure what the hell it was.

She jumped to her feet, then with a frustrated growl, she threw the damp towel in his face. "Go to work, Griffin. Because if you stay in this house one more minute, I swear, I will personally drop-kick you back to 1718 myself!"

With that, she turned and stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her so loudly the house shook. Griffin stared after her, then sank back against the cushions and covered his eyes with his hands.

Maybe it would take more than one conversation with Early Jackson for Griffin to understand a twentieth-century woman.

At first, she couldn't sleep. All that had passed between them in the daylight hours now seemed to conspire to rob her of rest. Meredith tossed and turned, punching at the pillow and cursing Griffin's overbearing soul. She wanted to forget the man and his chauvinistic ideas! But even after she finally drifted off, thoughts of him still haunted her mind.

He came to her in a hazy dream, a dream she'd had so many times in the past, a dream that had left her without fulfillment, without release. But this time, it was different, for he was no longer a vague image that would evaporate upon waking, but a flesh-and-blood man, her fantasy come alive.

She felt the bed sink beneath his weight, the heat of his body near hers, and heard the sound of his soft even breathing. He gently placed his hand over her mouth and Meredith's eyes met the intense blue gaze above her as the pale moonlight streamed though the window to gleam on his tanned face.

"Do not speak, Merrie," he warned, his words soft and seductive and warm on her cheek. "For I'm still not certain that I should be here. One false word might steer me from my purpose this night."

He watched her for a long moment, indecision carved on his handsome features, then withdrew his hand. Slowly, she reached up and traced the lines of worry on his forehead with her fingertips, as if the simple gesture might erase any doubt he still had.

All their arguments suddenly faded and all their differences disappeared. In that instant, she knew that she loved this man, this proud and arrogant pirate, this man who held honor so dear. And she could no longer fight her feelings for him.

It didn't matter why he'd been brought here, whether she was saving his life, or he was saving hers. All she knew was that they belonged together, now and forever, in this bed and in this time.

Silently, she let her fingers drift along the planes and angles of his perfect face, exploring his striking cheek-bones, his strong jaw, his sculpted lips, as if she were touching him for the first time. Weaving her fingers through his long hair, she drew his mouth down to hers.

A groan rumbled in the back of his throat as his lips covered hers, and he abandoned himself to their kiss. There would be no going back now, she thought. She had waited for Griffin her entire life. They would love each other in the deepest way possible, the consequences be damned.

His tongue gently probed her mouth and she opened to his ever-deepening kiss, the taste of him like a drug to her senses, numbing and addictive, and devastating in its power over her. This was like no kiss they had shared before, so filled with the promise of the passion yet to come.

She waited for a flood of trepidation to overwhelm her, for all her fears and insecurities to push to the surface as they had the other times. But she felt so right in his arms, like a sensual, self-aware woman, not a nervous, fumbling neophyte.

He pulled her beneath him and settled himself along the length of her body, his weight trapping her against his body, the evidence of his desire pressed against her belly, outlined by the tight denim.

Griffin pushed up and braced his hands on either side of her head, a self-deprecating grin twisting his lips. "It has been a long while since I've been with a woman."

She felt her face flame. "Almost three hundred years," she murmured, running her hand down the front of his T-shirt to the waistband of his jeans. "That is a very long time."

Through his T-shirt, she felt the hard muscles and the warm flesh of his torso. Suddenly, she wanted to rid him of all his clothes. She tugged at the hem of the shirt, pulling it up until it bunched beneath his arms, then ran her nails down along his spine.

He drew a sharp breath and held it, then groaned in pleasure. "I am not certain of how things go between a man and a woman in this century, so we will proceed…"

He brushed a kiss across her lips. "Slowly."

"Slowly," Meredith repeated, her confidence bolstered.

"Slowly," he repeated, nuzzling her ear.

He rolled off of her, then sat back on his heels, his gaze never leaving hers. With a grin, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. In the moonlight, he looked as if he'd been carved from solid marble. She reached out and allowed her hand to drift along the tight muscles of his abdomen.

He took her hand and drew her up in front of him, then pulled her body against his, kissing her long and hard, cupping her backside in his hands, molding her hips to his.

Suddenly, desperately, she wanted to feel her skin warm against his. What wickedness possessed her, she didn't know, but she pushed against his chest, then grabbed the bottom of her nightshirt. In one easy movement, she yanked it up over her head, unashamed of what she revealed.

But while her arms were still stretched above her, Griffin's mouth drifted to her breasts. "So beautiful," he murmured, teasing at her nipple with his lips.

Meredith shivered, then tossed the nightshirt over her shoulder. "When you first met me, you thought I was a boy."

He glanced up at her and shot her a seductive grin. "I was suffering from a blow to the head. I am very clear of mind at present."

"Then make love to me, Griffin," she murmured, her fingers twisted in his long hair. "I want to show, you that I'm a woman, your woman."

With that, they began a slow and easy love play, teasing and touching, whispering soft words of encouragement as they explored each other's bodies. Before long, her panties and his jeans ended up on the floor next to the bed, and they were twisted together, naked, with nothing standing between them.

She'd never felt such immense desire before, such overwhelming need. Every touch seemed so perfect, so filled with emotion. This was what passion was supposed to be like between a man and a woman. Not the awkward fumbling and frantic groping and nervous apprehension that she'd experienced in the past, but a tantalizing give-and-take, a hunger that seemed to grow by each second until she knew there had to be something more.

She needed to feel him not just around her and above her, but inside her. Hesitantly, she reached for him, touching him as she'd never touched a man before. He was like smooth silk and warm steel. With fleeting fingers, she ran her hand along the length of his shaft. He moaned softly and murmured her name. Then, as if to return the pleasure she gave him, he touched her in a way so intimate, she instinctively drew away.

"Don't be frightened of me, Merrie," he said. "Let me take you to a perfect place."

She relaxed and closed her eyes, surrendering to his gentle caress. Slowly, a delicious warmth seeped though her limbs, pricking at the tips of her fingers and toes. But gradually, the warmth turned to need. Her breath quickened and her every thought focused on the touch of his hand on her body. The tension built deep in her core until she moved against him, aching with need.

"Please," she whispered. "Please, Griffin. I want you."

Then his warm fingers were gone. In an instant, he was above her, the touch of his hand now replaced by his probing shaft. He drew her knees up along his hips and slowly entered her.

She winced as he met the proof of her virginity and she bit her lip, ready to face his surprise, his confusion, maybe even his disdain.

He frowned. "This cannot be so," he murmured.

"You are my first, Griffin," Merrie said, averting her gaze, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. "I've waited for you my whole life."

The confusion in his eyes gradually turned to understanding, then longing. He moved above her. "It may hurt, Merrie," he murmured. "But I vow, it will be the first and last time our lovemaking causes you pain."

She nodded. "I need you, Griffin."

He held her face in his hands and gazed deeply into her eyes. "And I need you, Merrie, my love." He moved against her and with one smooth thrust, took her.

For a long moment, he didn't move again, allowing her to adjust to the feel of him buried deep inside her. But then, as if he knew when the time was right, he pressed into her, slowly at first, then with a powerful rhythm.

Her senses reeled with every thrust and release, a pulse of tension quickening at her core. She whispered his name, again and again, a silent plea to bring her release. Higher and higher they climbed, rocking against each other until she felt as if she'd lost all touch with reality.

Suddenly, she was there… and in an instant, gone, tumbling over the edge, crying out at the same moment he did, their hearts and their souls merging into one. And in that glorious, shattering moment, she knew she belonged entirely to this man, this Griffin Rourke. She always had.