Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels #7) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,77

wanted him. Not because the silky, delicious warmth of his mouth was impossible to resist.

Keir’s arms went around her reflexively, his lips sealing over hers. He explored her with avid hunger, stroking and teasing, awakening deep pangs of delight. One of his hands slid low on her spine, keeping her pressed close and tight. His body was so hard, the aggressive shape of him nudging against her, and she went hot all over at the remembered sensation of him filling her.

Mortified by the awareness that she’d gone wet, her intimate flesh throbbing, Merritt struggled out of his arms.

Keir set her free with a breathless laugh. “Careful, lass. One stray jab of your wee elbow would send me to the floor.”

She went to the window and pressed the burning side of her face to a cool glass pane. “This is madness,” she said. “This is how lives are ruined. People are caught up in the pleasure of the moment without stopping to consider the consequences. There are so many reasons we shouldn’t be together, and only one reason we should, and it’s not even a good reason.”

“’Tis the only reason that matters.”

“You know that’s not true, or you wouldn’t have tried so hard to keep from forming an attachment to me.”

“’Tis no’ an attachment,” he said brusquely. “You’re in my blood.” He came to the window and propped one of his shoulders against the frame. Mellow autumn light gilded his inhumanly perfect features.

“I wouldn’t have left on that train today, Merry. I’d have come back even if I hadn’t remembered that night. No’ a minute after the carriage started on the drive, I was ready to leap out of my skin. It felt wrong to be leaving you. Unnatural. My body can only bide so much distance from yours.”

Merritt forced herself to turn away from him and go to the washstand. Clumsily she poured cold water onto a linen hand towel. “I’ve always prided myself on my common sense,” she muttered. “I’ve always had definite views of marriage, and I waited for years until I found a man who met the requirements on my list.”

“You had a list?”

“Yes, of qualities I desired in a partner.”

“Like shopping?” From his tone, it was obvious he found the notion entertaining and nonsensical.

“I was organizing my thoughts,” Merritt said, holding the compress against her sore, swollen eyes. “You wouldn’t give a dinner party without first writing out a menu, would you?”

Keir approached her from behind, reaching around her to brace his hands on either side of the washstand. “I’ve never been to a dinner party,” he said. He bent to kiss the back of her neck, and she felt the shape of his smile against her skin. “How well do I suit your list?” he asked, his breath stirring the tiny wisps of hair at her nape. “Not at all, I’d wager.”

Merritt set down the compress and turned to lean back against the washstand. “The list doesn’t suit you. A whisky distiller from a remote Scottish island was not what I had in mind.”

He grinned at her. “But you couldn’t help yourself.”

“No,” she admitted. “You’re perfect as you are. I wouldn’t want to change you.”

“Life changes everyone,” he pointed out. “I’m no’ proof against that. None of us knows what’s in store.”

That reminded Merritt of a subject that needed to be brought up. She folded her arms against a sudden chill. “Keir,” she asked, “has all your memory returned, or only part of it?”

“’Tis coming back in pieces, like a puzzle. Why?”

“The day I showed you to the warehouse flat, we talked about why I hadn’t had children with Joshua. Do you remember what I told you?”

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