Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels #7) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,81

“In the middle of the afternoon?”

There was a dance of mischief in his eyes. “There’ll be no one to hear us. Thursday is when the servants polish the silver downstairs in the dining room.”

“They’ll still know,” Merritt said, wincing at the thought. “With all the commotion we’ve made, it’s hardly a secret that we’re alone in my bedroom.”

“Merry, honey-love … I want you too badly to give a damn who knows.” Keir smiled down at her with a charm that cast sunspots across her vision. “Come to bed with me, my heart. There are worse ways to spend an afternoon.”

It would have taken a woman made of far sterner stuff to resist him.

Merritt went to lock the door and turned to find Keir undressing beside the bed. Her heartbeats tumbled together like a row of ninepins as she watched him unbutton the half placket of his shirt. He lifted the garment over his head, revealing a torso that was sleek and layered with muscle, his chest covered with a light mat of glinting hair. She was amazed by how beautiful he was. But as she saw him wince while lowering his arms, she frowned in concern.

“You’re still healing,” she said. “Is it too soon for this?”

“No.”

“I think it’s too soon.”

His eyes glinted with mockery. “Maybe you should go fetch Dr. Kent’s book and see what it says.”

That drew a reluctant grin from her. “I don’t recall seeing a chapter on this particular subject.”

“Just as well.” Keir reached out with one arm and pulled her against his brawny chest. “You might have brought the stopwatch as well, and I dinna want to be rushed.”

Her chuckle was caught between their lips as he kissed her soundly. Dressed only in trousers, he padded barefoot to a chair where he had set his clothes. To Merritt’s amusement, he folded the shirt carefully before setting it on top of the neat stack of garments.

Seeing her quizzical gaze, he explained, “It makes Culpepper crabbit if I wrinkle the clothes after he’s worked hard to press them.”

“You’re on better terms with him now?”

“Aye. He and I talk a bit every morning, when he gives me a shave.” Keir came back to her and turned her to face away from him, and a ripple of excitement chased down her spine as she felt him unfastening the back of her dress.

“Why do you let him keep shaving you?” she asked. “I thought you would have started growing the beard back right away.”

Keir sounded slightly sheepish as he replied. “There’s always an ackwart stage of growing a beard, when the stubble grows longer but the rest hasn’t filled in. ’Tis patchy like a pasture after the goats have grazed it.”

“And you didn’t want Uncle Sebastian making comments?”

“No, I dinna give a damn about that—he couldn’t say anything worse than the lads back on Islay. There’s no mercy when one of us is growing a beard—we’ll call him a ‘duck in molt,’ or … no, the rest isn’t fit for your ears.”

“If you weren’t worried about Uncle Sebastian’s opinion, then what was it?”

“I dinna want you to remember me with a beard that looked to be trimmed with a hand mower.”

“You stayed clean-shaven for me?” A smile spread across Merritt’s face, and she turned around to face him. “Whatever stage of beard you happen to be in, you’re irresistible.” She leaned close to brush her nose, lips, and chin through the luxuriant fluff of his chest hair.

One of his hands slipped into the open back of her dress and found her bare upper shoulder. “I’ll have to shave from now on,” he said. “Your skin is as soft as a petal. After a night with me, you were scoured from head to toe.”

“Not scoured,” Merritt said, blushing. “You don’t have to give up your beard for my sake.”

“As often as I plan to bed you, milady, I think I’d better.”

She sent him a flirtatious glance. “That’s rather presumptuous, don’t you think?”

Keir shook his head, smiling. “Only hopeful.”

By the time he’d undressed them both, the yolk-colored light of deep afternoon had pushed through the partially closed wooden blinds, and slid across the bed in a row of golden ribbons. They reclined on the bed, and Keir stretched out on his side with Merritt in the crook of his arm. His mouth worked slowly on hers, tasting, softly tugging, then sealing tight and sending his tongue deep.

“I have an idea,” Merritt said breathlessly, when he began to kiss his way down her throat.