Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels #7) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,100

“You’re familiar with guns, then.”

“Yes, my father taught me. May I shoot it?”

“What are you going to aim for?”

By this time, the others had come out from the parlor to watch.

“Uncle Sebastian,” Merritt asked, “are those pottery rabbits on the stone wall valuable?”

Kingston smiled slightly and shook his head. “Have at it.”

“Wait,” Ethan said calmly. “That’s a twenty-yard distance. You’ll need a longer-range weapon.” With meticulous care, he took the revolver from her and replaced it in his coat. “Try this one.” Merritt’s brows lifted slightly as he pulled a gun from a cross-draw holster concealed by his coat. This time, Ethan handed the revolver to her without bothering to disassemble it first. “It’s loaded, save one chamber,” he cautioned. “I put the hammer down to prevent accidental discharge.”

“A Colt single-action,” Merritt said, pleased, admiring the elegant piece, with its four-and-a-half-inch barrel and custom engraving. “Papa has one similar to this.” She eased the hammer back and gently rotated the cylinder.

“It has a powerful recoil,” Ethan warned.

“I would expect so.” Merritt held the Colt in a practiced grip, the fingers of her support hand fitting neatly underneath the trigger guard. “Cover your ears,” she said, cocking the hammer and aligning the sights. She squeezed the trigger.

An earsplitting report, a flash of light from the muzzle, and one of the rabbit sculptures on the wall shattered.

In the silence that followed, Merritt heard her father say dryly, “Go on, Merritt. Put the other bunny out of its misery.”

She cocked the hammer, aimed and fired again. The second rabbit sculpture exploded.

“Sweet Mother Mary,” Ethan said in wonder. “I’ve never seen a woman shoot like that.”

“My father taught all of us how to shoot and handle firearms safely,” Merritt said, giving the revolver back to him grip-first.

Ethan reholstered the gun and stared into her face for a long moment. He nodded slightly, understanding the reason for her demonstration. “It’s up to him,” he said, his gaze flickering to the man just behind her.

Merritt turned to Keir, who was staring at Ethan, his eyes a chilled light blue. “She’s no’ going to Islay with me,” he said flatly.

“I can do more than hit targets,” Merritt said. “I can pursue and hunt game while moving behind cover. I’m comfortable with using telescopes and field-glasses, and I’m good at calculating distance even on open terrain. And, unlike Ethan and his agents, I can literally stay within arm’s reach of you most of the time, including at night.”

Her mother’s voice came from beside the French doors. “Merritt darling, you know I’m usually the first to say to hell with proprieties. But it falls to me to point out that you can’t stay at the home of an unmarried man without … well …”

“I’ve already thought of that,” Merritt said. “We could stop at Gretna Green on the way, just as Uncle Sebastian and Aunt Evie did.”

“First,” Keir said coolly, “I have no’ proposed yet. Second, there are no border weddings in Scotland now. They changed the law twenty-five years ago. People have to bide in Scotland for at least three weeks before they’re allowed to wed.”

Merritt frowned. “Drat,” she muttered.

Uncle Sebastian cleared his throat. “Actually …” He pretended not to notice as Keir sent him a damning glare.

“Yes, Uncle?” Merritt prompted hopefully.

“There’s an ancient Scottish tradition called marriage by declaration,” Sebastian continued, “that’s still legal. If you state in front of two witnesses that you both freely consent to become husband and wife, the local sheriff will have it registered.”

“No waiting period?” Merritt asked.

“None.”

“And it’s legal outside of Scotland?”

“Indeed.”

“How perfectly convenient,” Merritt said in satisfaction.

Keir’s expression had turned thunderous. “You’re no’ going with me,” he told her. “I’m putting my foot down.”

“Darling,” she said reasonably, “you can’t put your foot down, I’ve already put my foot down.”

His eyes narrowed. “Mine is bigger.”

“Mine is faster,” Merritt said. “I’m going to start packing.”

She fled before he could reply, and he followed at her heels.

AFTER THE PAIR had left, and Ransom had gone to write some telegrams, Sebastian remained in the parlor with Westcliff, Lillian, and Evie.

Westcliff went to Lillian and slid his arms around her. “Well,” he asked, “would you advise locking her in her room, or should we threaten to cut off her allowance?”

A rueful smile crossed Lillian’s lips. “I couldn’t help but wonder if you regretted having taught her to shoot so well.”

“For a moment,” Westcliff admitted. “But MacRae won’t capitulate. I could see it in his face.”

“I pity the lad,” Sebastian commented. “In her ladylike way, Merritt