Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels #7) by Lisa Kleypas

Keir shook his head.

“I’m barren,” she said flatly, her fingers flexing into her upper arms. “Just before my husband died, I visited a London specialist to find out why I hadn’t been able to conceive.” She paused, recalling the term the doctor had used … uterine fibroids … but at the moment it wasn’t necessary to go into such detail. “After the examination, he said I had a condition of the womb—it wouldn’t endanger my health—but it’s virtually impossible for me to have a baby. If I’d wanted to become a mother, he said, I should have tried much sooner, and there might have been a chance. By the time I finally married, however, it was too late.”

Keir was expressionless. After a long silence, he asked gently, “What did your husband say?”

“Joshua was overwhelmed with sadness. It was difficult to accept he’d never have children of his own. No son to inherit the business he’d built. He didn’t blame me in the least, but it was the greatest disappointment of his life. It sent him into a deep melancholy. I tried to comfort him, but it was impossible, since I was the cause of his grief. That was why he went on that last trip—he thought perhaps spending a little time away from me, and seeing family and old friends in Boston might lift his spirits. So in a way, his death was—”

Merritt paused, surprised by the words that had nearly sprung out.

My fault.

In the days and weeks after her husband’s passing, she’d discovered grief wasn’t a single feeling but one made of many layers, mortared together with if-onlys. If only she hadn’t turned out to be barren. If only she’d done a better job of consoling Joshua and lifting his depressed spirits, he wouldn’t have gone on the trip. If only she’d never married him in the first place, he would have married someone else, and he’d still be alive.

She knew logically that she hadn’t been to blame, it had simply been an accident.

Joshua’s ship hadn’t been the first to go down at sea, nor would it be the last. But deep down she’d harbored a sliver of guilt, like one of those splinters so small it could stay lodged in a finger for years.

Keir’s alert gaze took in every tiny variation of her expression. His chest rose and fell with a long breath, and he pushed away from the washstand with startling abruptness. He began to pace around the room, not like someone deep in thought but like a caged lion.

Merritt watched him in growing confusion. Was he sorry for her sake? Was he bitterly disappointed, as Joshua had been?

No … from the way he raked his hands through his hair, from his deepening flush and darkening scowl … and the twitching muscle in his clenched jaw …

“Are you angry?” she asked, bewildered. “With me?”





Chapter 26


FOR YEARS, SEBASTIAN’S MORNING ritual had started with a swim, which not only kept him fit and flexible, but helped him face the day in a state of calm alertness. In summer, he preferred the open water at the cove, but in the colder months, the only option was to swim indoors. In a resort town filled with therapeutic and recreational baths, it had been an easy matter to find contractors to install a saltwater swimming bath in one of the Challon mansion’s wings.

The bath was thirty by sixty feet, surrounded by a platform of pitch pine and intricate mosaic tile floors. Pipes leading from the kitchen ran beneath the pool to take the chill from the water, while louvers in the glass roof could be adjusted for ventilation. Rows of stained-glass windows in white, green, and blue admitted light while maintaining privacy. For the comfort of family and guests, there were changing rooms, lavatories, shower baths, and lounge areas with upholstered wicker furniture.

Sebastian stripped off his clothes beside the bath and tossed them onto a nearby chaise longue. He dived in cleanly and began swimming laps with a smooth, efficient overhand stroke. The steady back-and-forth cleared his mind, and soon he was conscious only of moving through the water in a steady forward propulsion.

After twenty minutes of hard swimming, his muscles were burning. He hoisted himself out of the water, breathing heavily, and went to fetch a towel from a stack on a table. As he dried himself vigorously, he caught a glimpse of someone standing by the other end of the swimming bath. He went very still at the sight of rose-copper hair … pink cheeks and round blue eyes … and lavish curves contained in a fashionable striped wool dress. Every filament of his nervous system sparked with an infusion of joy.

“Evie?” he asked huskily, afraid he was imagining her.

She glanced at the water, remarking innocently, “You were swimming so hard, I thought there might be a sh-shark.”

It took all Sebastian’s concentration to reply casually. “You know better than that, pet.” He wrapped the towel around his waist and tucked in the overlapping edge to fasten it. “I am the shark.”

He went to his wife in no apparent hurry, but as he drew closer his stride quickened, and he snatched her up with an ardor that nearly lifted her feet from the floor. She gasped and clutched his shoulders, and lifted her smiling mouth to his.

Glorying in the taste and feel of her, Sebastian kissed her thoroughly, eventually finishing with a soft, provocative bite at her lower lip. “Evie, my beauty, did you remember to bring back our children?”

“I did. Ivo has gone in search of Ajax.”