"What did you do?" Meredith scolded. "Slam down a few rum punches before you decided to experience a hurricane firsthand?" She shook his shoulder. "Come on, get up before the tide washes you away."

He moaned again and turned his head toward her. A trickle of blood slid down along his temple before the rain washed it away. Meredith cursed softly. She couldn't just leave him out here, but what else was she supposed to do? He was too big to pick up and carry into the house.

She drew a deep breath and tried to calm her jangled nerves. She should phone for help. The police would come and drag him away to jail, giving him time to dry out before they sent him on his merry way.

An errant breeze played at the flame of the lantern. She sucked in a sharp breath as a wash of light fell across the man's face. Even though his shaggy hair and beard made him appear uncommonly fierce, right now he looked vulnerable, helpless.

Slowly, she reached out and brushed the rain off his forehead, her fingers tracing his strong features. As she felt his damp skin beneath her fingers, her breath stopped in her throat. He was so cold, so still. A shiver skittered down her spine and she snatched her hand away and clutched it to her chest.

Warily, she stood, then backed away from him, filled with a strange sense of foreboding. He was a perfect stranger and she should be frightened. Meredith Abbott was usually leery of pretty much everything, especially men. But this man, lying half-dead on her beach, didn't scare her.

No, what truly frightened her were the forces that had brought him here.

Meredith flopped down onto the floor, every muscle in her body aching with cold and exhaustion. Her pirate lay sprawled next to her on the couch where she'd finally settled him after dragging him inside. Ben stared at them both from his perch in the corner, silent, suspicious of the stranger.