Devil in Disguise by Lisa Kleypas

Chapter 8

THE MOMENT MERRITT HAD discovered the slip of paper from his wallet, Keir had expected her to react with outrage, or even worse, pity. Anything but this. Bewildered, he absorbed the feel of her, the tender mouth, the feminine warmth. The full, sweet curves of her body were covered in blue velvet trimmed with soft lace that tickled his bare skin.

His senses were filled with her. He had to have more of her weight on him, more closeness. Ignoring the pull of the cut on his back, he lifted one of his legs to the couch and settled her between his thighs. The pressure felt so good, there where he was hot and rigid, he couldn’t hold back a low groan.

Mistaking the sound for pain, Merritt broke the kiss and tried to pull away, but he clamped a hand over her bottom to keep her there.

“Wait,” she said breathlessly, “be careful—your back—you’ll hurt yourself—” She reached down to adjust the folded linen compress, and the way she fussed with the placement of it, that attentive interest, aroused him even more. He pulled her higher against his body and locked his mouth to hers again. She began to breathe in rhythmic gasps, the way she would if he were inside her. The tip of her tongue ventured inside his mouth, a flick of sensation that went straight to his groin. He’d never been so hard in his life.

Somewhere in the molten cauldron that had formerly been his brain, Keir realized one of them had to put a stop to this, now. Since Merritt didn’t seem inclined to do that any time soon, he would have to be the responsible one. It took a Herculean effort to pull his mouth from hers, but then she followed the movement, trying to maintain the kiss. Amused and steaming, Keir dove his face into the shadowed alcove created by her neck and jaw, and breathed in the fragrance of blood-heated perfume. He felt her quiver at the brush of his beard against her tender skin. God. He wanted to spend hours kissing every inch of her. Instead he lay still beneath her delicious female weight, fighting for control.

Merritt’s head lifted. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, the black bristle of her lashes shadowing drowsy darkness.

She dampened her lips, and spoke as if she’d just awakened from a long sleep. “I’ve heard that Scots are the most passionate of men.”

A slow smile crossed his lips. He let a fingertip play with the wisps of hair around her ear, delighting in her squirm of response. “Aye …’tis true that Scots have more passion than men of other lands. But I’ll no’ be the one to demonstrate it to you.”

“What if …” Merritt paused to take an extra breath, her gaze slightly unfocused. “What if I wanted you to?”

He shook his head, knowing she wasn’t thinking straight. “It would be a mistake.”

“People should make mistakes,” she said. “It builds character.” She tried to kiss him again, but he pulled his head back.

“You dinna want to make this particular mistake with me, lass.” Keir fingered the lobe of her ear gently. “I won’t carry that bit of paper if you dinna wish it.” He didn’t need it: Her name had been permanently engraved on his heart.

The comment seemed to make her shy. “I don’t mind if you want to keep it. But … why did you?”

Keir shrugged. “’Tis no’ my way to take a feeling apart and examine the workings of it.”

Merritt tilted her head, regarding him intently. “Did you want it as a trophy, perhaps? To remind you someday of a conquest you once made?”

Keir’s smile vanished. He didn’t think she really believed that, but the suggestion—the very idea of it—filled him with indignation. “No. I’m no’ a brute who would think of you as a thing to be won.”

Seeming to realize he was genuinely offended, Merritt said hastily, “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“I may have rough ways, but I know how to be gentle with a woman—”

“Yes. Of course. I shouldn’t have put it that way—”

“—and as for needing a reminder—” Keir’s indignation deepened into outrage. “Do you think me so shallow-pated I’d need reminding of a woman I once held in my arms? How could I forget you? The most—”

He was interrupted as Merritt took his face in her hands and kissed him again. There was more he’d meant to say, but her mouth was too luscious to resist. He opened to her, hungry for the sweet, damp softness, unable to keep from taking as much of her as he could. His erection awakened with fresh vigor. Dazed with lust, he closed his hand in the velvet skirts and began to pull them upward, then realized what he was doing.

He broke the kiss, gasping. “No more,” he said hoarsely, “or I’m like to devour you on the spot.”

Merritt nodded and lowered her flushed face to his chest, nuzzling her lips and cheek into the springy fleece. Her fingertips followed the fine chain around his neck, down to the little gold key, and she played with it idly. Her warm breath filtered through the curls, fanning his nipple, as she asked, “Are you hungry?”

“Aye, I’ve just said so.”

Her cheek curved against his chest. “I meant for dinner.”

Despite the pangs of desire, Keir’s empty stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“I’ll have Cook warm some stew,” Merritt continued before he could reply, “and I’ll fetch a clean shirt for you. My footman accidentally dragged a sleeve through fresh ink last week, and even though we washed it twice, we couldn’t remove the stain entirely. I think it’s still in a basket of things we’re collecting for the needy.”

Keir let out a breath of amusement. “I believe I qualify.”

Merritt began to lift herself away from him, hesitated, and gently drew her palm over his chest. A wash of color warmed her fair skin. “You’re a beautiful man,” she said a bit bashfully.

Her touch sent a thrill of pleasure through him. He had to steel every muscle to keep from arching against her hand. It was indecent, how much he wanted her.

In a hushed voice he replied, “’Tis glad I am you find me so, darlin’. But there’s nothing in the world half so braw and lovely as you.”

“Braw?”

“Something very fine. You’re braw like sunlight on the sea, or a poem set to music.”

Merritt smiled as she left the couch and restored her clothes. He adored the way she settled her bodice and skirts in place with deft little tugs. “Stay right there,” she told him. “I’ll have everything ready in just a moment.”

She hurried off, a woman who loved arranging things.

Keir sat up and rubbed his face slowly. It was the worst mistake he’d ever made, agreeing to come to dinner at her house. It was madness.

And yet he was so damned happy to be here, with her, he could hardly breathe.