1
" Before she made any decisions, perhaps she should travel abroad. Italy, Germany, Spain, Greece, China, Egypt... She could visit the seven wonders of the world and keep a journal. What were the seven wonders? She tried to recall a poem a governess once taught her to help remember them. How did it go?... The pyramids first, which in Egypt were laid... Next Babylon's garden, which Amytis made... Now that she thought of it, who had made the list in the first place? In a world full of wonders, seven seemed an awfully stingy number.
Gloom started to creep back over her again.
I’ll compile my own list of wonders, she decided, far more than seven. She would become an adventuress. She might even try mountain climbing. Not a large, life-threatening mountain, but a friendly mountain, with a nearby resort that served afternoon tea. Being an adventuress didn’t mean one had to suffer, after all. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
3
" Mr. Keir MacRae Lady Merritt Sterling
The names had been typed... but why?... what for?...
Bits and pieces of memory whirled in his head... thoughts wheeling just beyond reach. As he struggled blindly to catch hold of something, make sense of the tumult, he heard Merritt's voice... stay for one night just one... and there was the smell of rain and the cool darkness of night, and the warmth of a bed... the tender plump curves of a woman's breasts, and the hot clasp of her body pulling at him, squeezing in voluptuous pulsation, and the sweet, wracking culmination as she cried out his name. And there was the sight of her in candlelight, flames dancing in guttering pools of wax, catching glimmers from her eyes, hair, skin... and the glorious freedom of yielding everything, telling her everything, while inexhaustible delight welled around them. And the despair of leaving, the physical pain of putting distance between them, the sensation of being pulled below the surface of the sea, looking up from airless depths to an unreachable sky. Lady Merritt's fingertips pressing a typewriter key. Tap. Tap. Tiny metal rods flicked at a spool of inked ribbon, and letters emerged.
Keir was panting now, clutching the slip of paper, while his brain sorted and spun, and pin tumblers aligned, a key turned, and something unlocked.
"Merry," he said aloud, his voice unsteady. "My God... Merry. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
4
" She... her... He couldn't hold on to her name... it kept darting away from him... but he was aware of her soft presence, her voice like honey, her hands bestowing cool, sweet calm on his tortured body.
But for all her softness, there was steel in her. She was unrelenting when it came time to dose him with medicines he didn't want. She made him sip water or broth despite his struggles to keep anything down. There was no bloody refusing her. This was a woman who would keep him anchored safely to the earth, to life, with the force of her will.
During the worst of it, when Keir was maddened by suffocating heat, and every breath felt like someone was stabbing a peat knife into his chest, the woman packed ice around him, or bathed him all over with cool cloths. It mortified and infuriated him to lie there helpless and naked as a wee bairnie while she took care of his intimate needs, but he was too damned sick to do anything for himself. He needed her, both the softness and the steel. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
6
" Damn it, he thought wearily, I miss Evie.
When she was away, which thankfully was seldom, the world stopped spinning, the sun went dark, and life devolved to a grim exercise in endurance until she returned.
At the outset of their marriage, Sebastian had never dreamed a shy, awkward wallflower, who'd spoken with a stammer since childhood, would turn out to have such fearsome power over him. But Evie had immediately gained the upper hand by making it clear he would have nothing from her- not her affection, her body, or even her thoughts- unless he'd earned it. No woman had ever challenged him to be worthy of her. That had fascinated and excited him. It had made him love her.
Now he was left counting the remaining nights- four, to be precise- of waking in the middle of the night blindly searching the empty space beside him. And the hours- ninety-six, approximately- until Evie was in his arms again. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
9
" The day after you pop up at your distillery alive and kicking, someone will come to finish you off."
"Let them try," Keir shot back. "I can defend myself."
The duke arched a mocking brow. "Impressive. Only a matter of days ago, we were celebrating that you were able to drink through a straw. And now apparently you're well enough for an alley fight."
Keir was instantly hostile.
"I know how to keep up my guard."
"That doesn't matter," Kingston replied. "As soon as your arm muscles fatigue, your elbows will drift outward, and he'll find an opening."
"What would a toff like you know about fighting? Even with my ribs cracked, you couldn't take me down."
The older man's stare was that of a seasoned lion being challenged by a brash cub.
Calmly he picked up a small open pepper cellar from the table and dumped a heap of ground black pepper in the center of Keir's plate.
Perplexed, Keir glanced down at it, as a puff of gray dust floated upward. His nose stung, and in the next breath, he sneezed. A searing bolt of agony shot through his rib cage. "Aghhh! He turned away from his plate and doubled over. "Devil take your sneakit arse!" he managed to gasp. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
11
" He was especially charmed by the two youngest Challons, Ivo and Seraphina, both of them engaging and warm, but also possessing their father's knack for a perfectly timed witticism- a bon mot, Merritt called it.
They asked countless questions about Islay, his friends, his dog, and the distillery, and they entertained him with stories of their own. To Keir's relief, neither of them seemed to have difficulty accepting him as a half brother, despite the vast differences in their ages. They had been brought up in an environment filled with so much abundance, it didn't occur to them to feel threatened by anyone.
The Challons were nothing like the noble families Keir had heard of, in which the children were raised mostly by servants and seldom saw their parents. These people were close and openly affectionate, with no trace of aristocratic stuffiness. Keir thought that was in no small part due to the duchess, who made no pretense about the fact that her father had made his start as a professional boxer. Evie was the anchor who kept the family from drifting too far in the dizzying altitude of their social position. It was at her insistence that the children had at least a passing acquaintance with ordinary life. For example, it was one of Ivo's chores to wash the dog, and Seraphina sometimes accompanied the cook to market to talk with local tradespeople. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
13
" Before Keir MacRae arrived, everything was normal. Now there's been stabbings, explosions, and debauchery, and my sensible older sister is engaged to a Scottish whisky distiller. What's happened to you? You're supposed to be level-headed!"
Merritt tried to sound dignified. "Just because one is usually level-headed doesn't mean one is always level-headed."
"You won't be comprised if no one knows about it," Luke said. "And God knows none of us are going to say anything."
The duke intervened, his voice so dry one could have struck a match off it. "My boy, you're missing the point. Your sister wants to be compromised."
Ethan Ransom, who had been inching toward the stairs, ventured, "I don't need to be part of this conversation. I'm going up to see my wife. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
14
" Flecks of light danced over her cheeks, scattered by the nearby perforated iron firepots at the stall. It made her appear to sparkle like a creature out of Scottish lore. Beautiful women were often dangerous in those stories: disguised as a water spirit or a witch, to ensnare a hapless male and lead him to his fate. No escape, no mercy. As a young boy, Keir had always wondered why the men hadn't tried to resist.
"Ah, weel," his father had explained, "they're enchanters of men, bonnie women are, and when they beckon, we can't help but follow."
"I wouldn't!" Keir had said indignantly. "I'd stay home and take care of Mither."
There had come a chuckle from the stove, where his mother had been frying potatoes. "A good laddie, y'are," she'd called out.
His father had grinned and stretched out before the hearth, lacing his fingers together over his middle. "Someday, lad, you'll ken exactly why a man falls to temptation, even knowing the better of it."
And, as in most things, Keir thought ruefully, his father had been right. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
15
" You... you were telling me about your diet?"
"Well, mostly I was raised on milk, potatoes, dulse, fish-"
"I beg your pardon, did you say 'dulse'? What is that, exactly?"
"A kind of seaweed," MacRae said. "As a lad, it was my job to go out at low tide before supper and cut handfuls of it from the rocks on shore." He opened a cupboard to view a small store of cooking supplies and utensils. "It goes in soup, or you can eat it raw." He glanced at her over his shoulder, amusement touching his lips as he saw her expression.
"Seaweed is the secret to good health?" Merritt asked dubiously.
"No, milady, that would be whisky. My men and I take a wee dram every day." Seeing her perplexed expression, her continued, "Whisky is the water of life. It warms the blood, keeps the spirits calm, and the heart strong."
"I wish I liked whisky, but I'm afraid it's not to my taste."
MacRae looked appalled. "Was it Scotch whisky?"
"I'm not sure," she said. "Whatever it was, it set my tongue on fire."
"It was no' Scotch, then, but rotgut. Islay whisky starts as hot as the devil's whisper... but then the flavors come through, and it might taste of cinnamon, or peat, or honeycomb fresh from the hive. It could taste of a long-ago walk on a winter's eve... or a kiss you once stole from your sweetheart in the hayloft. Whisky is yesterday's rain, distilled with barley into a vapor that rises like a will-o'-the-wisp, then set to bide its time in casks of good oak." His voice had turned as soft as a curl of smoke. "Someday we'll have a whisky, you and I. We'll toast health to our friends and peace to our foes... and we'll drink to the loves lost to time's perishing, as well as those yet to come. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
16
" After my father's passing, my men and I took inventory at the distillery and found a hidden cellar where he'd stashed a hogshead of single malt. It had been sitting there untouched for forty years." Keir uncorked one of the miniature bottles and poured the amber liquid into a glass. "We finished it in first-fill sherry quarter casks for a year, bottled it, and named it Ulaidh Lachlan- Lachlan's Treasure- in honor of my father."
"How many bottles in total?"
"Two hundred ninety-nine," Keir replied.
Hoagland swirled the whisky in the glass, moved it close to his nose, and inhaled deeply. He took a taste, paying attention to the soft, rolling feel of it in his mouth. The subtle variations of his expression revealed the progression of flavors... the opening of dry, dusty wood and salt brine, like lifting the lid of a pirate's treasure chest... the richness of bread pudding... finishing with a surprising meringue lightness and a touch of smoke. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
17
" You might consider a full shave," he suggested. "You certainly have the chin for it."
Keir shook his head. "I must keep the beard."
Looking sympathetic, the barber asked, "Pockmarks? Scars?"
"No' exactly." Since the man seemed to explain an explanation, Keir continued uncomfortably, "It's... well... my friends and I, we're a rough lot, you ken. 'Tis our way to chaff and trade insults. Whenever I shave off the beard, they start mocking and jeering. Blowing kisses, calling me a fancy lad, and all that. They never tire of it. And the village lasses start flirting and mooning about my distillery, and interfering with work. 'Tis a vexation."
The barber stared at him in bemusement. "So the flaw you're trying to hide is... you're too handsome?"
A balding middle-aged man seated in the waiting area reacted with a derisive snort. "Balderdash," he exclaimed. "Enjoy it while you can, is my advice. A handsome shoe will someday be an ugly slipper."
"What did he say, nephew?" asked the elderly man beside him, lifting a metal horn to his ear.
The middle-aged man spoke into the horn. "Young fellow says he's too handsome."
"Too handsome?" the old codger repeated, adjusting his spectacles and squinting at Keir. "Who does the cheeky bugger think he is, the Duke of Kingston?"
Amused, the barber proceeded to explain the reference to Keir. "His Grace the Duke of Kingston is generally considered one of the finest-looking men who's ever lived."
"I know-" Keir began.
"He caused many a scandal in his day," the barber continued. "They still make jokes about it in Punch. Cartoons with fainting women, and so forth."
"Handsome as Othello, they say," said a man who was sweeping up hair clippings.
"Apollo," the barber corrected dryly. He used a dry brush to whisk away the hair from Keir's neck. "I suspect by now Kingston's probably lost most of those famed golden locks."
Keir was tempted to contradict him, since he'd met the duke earlier that very day and seen for himself the man still had a full head of hair. However, he thought better of it and held his tongue. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
18
" To make matters worse," Luke continued, "there was an accident."
Her eyes widened. "What kind of accident?"
"A cask of whisky slipped from the hoisting gear, broke on the roof of a transit shed, and poured all over MacRae. He's ready to murder someone - which is why I brought him up here to you."
Despite her concern, Merritt let out a snort of laughter. "Luke Marsden, are you planning to hide behind my skirts while I confront the big, mean Scotsman?"
"Absolutely," he said without hesitation. "You like them big and mean.”
Her brows lifted. "What in heaven's name are you talking about?"
"You love soothing difficult people. You're the human equivalent of table syrup."
Amused, Merritt leaned her chin on her hand. "Show him in, then, and I'll start pouring."
It wasn't that she loved soothing difficult people. But she definitely liked to smooth things over when she could. As the oldest of six children, she'd always been the one to settle quarrels among her brothers and sisters, or come up with indoor games on rainy days. More than once, she'd orchestrated midnight raids on the kitchen pantry or told them stories when they'd sneaked to her room after bedtime. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
19
" Although Keir would always prefer his island to anywhere else in the world, he had to admit this place had its own magic. There was a softness about the air and the sun, a trance of mist that made everything luminous. Lowering to his haunches, he ran his palm back and forth over the fine golden sand, so different from the caster-sugar grains of the beaches on Islay.
At Merritt's quizzical glance, he dusted his hands and smiled crookedly. "'Tis quiet," he explained. "On the shore near my home, it sings."
"The sand sings?" Merritt asked, perplexed.
"Aye. When you move it with your foot or hand, or the wind blows over it, the sand makes a sound. Some say it's more like a squeak, or a whistle."
"What makes it do that?"
"'Tis pure quartz, and the grains are all the same size. A scientist could explain it. But I'd rather call it magic."
"Do you believe in magic?"
Keir stood and smiled into her upturned face. "No, but I like the wonderments of life. Like the ghost fire that shines on a ship's mast at storm's end, or the way a bird's instinct leads him to the wintering grounds each year. I enjoy such things better for no' understanding them."
"Wonderments," Merritt repeated, seeming to relish the word. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels, #7)
