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Devil in Disguise

Book by Lisa Kleypas · 27 quotes · Merritt Sterling, Keir Macrae, Merritt And Keir

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Devil in Disguise Quotes

“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.”

CaringSteelComfortingSoftnessScottish RomanceMerritt SterlingKeir Macrae
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“Have you met Lady Merritt?" The mere mention of her name softened the tension in the atmosphere almost miraculously. Keir felt the small muscles of his face relaxing. "Aye, I've had the honor. A kind and bonnie woman, she is." The duke's sudden easy smile was like the sun giving off light. "I've known her since the day she was born." Keir's brows lifted slightly. "You were there during the storm?" "She told you about that? Yes, I was one of the volunteers who went out in search of a midwife or doctor. It didn't look promising when one of us brought back a veterinarian, but to his credit, it all turned out well." "I'd say the credit should go to Lady Merritt's mither," Keir said.”

BirthMerritt SterlingKeir MacraeSebastian KingstonLillian MarsdenScandal In Spring
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“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.”

DramaReputationRom ComMerritt SterlingSebastian KingstonCompromisedEthan RansomLuke MarsdenFunny Comments
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“Talking with Merritt was like slipping into one of those silk-lined borrowed coats from the Challons. Comfortable, luxurious. She was whip-smart, understanding the details, the unsaid words. She had a way of wrapping people in empathy that extended to everyone from the duke down to the young assistant groundskeeper. It was the kind of charm that made people feel wittier, more attractive, more interesting, in her reflected glow. Keir was doing his level best to resist her lure. But he was so drawn to her, so damn besotted. He adored her fancy words... "prevarication"... "resplendent"... her easy smiles... her perfumed wrists and throat. She was like a beautiful gift that begged to be unwrapped. Just being near her made the blood sing in his veins.”

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“He's not fond of town, to put it mildly. He's not impressed by luxury or appearances. He loves his simple life on the island, and doing things out in nature." "And you dislike nature," Phoebe said sympathetically. "'Dislike' is too strong a word. Nature and I have an understanding- we try not to interfere with each other. It's a peaceful coexistence." Phoebe looked skeptical. "Dear, no matter how attractive this man is, I can't envision you existing happily on a remote Scottish island." "It's possible," Merritt argued. "I'm a woman of many facets." "You don't have a single facet that wants to live in a hut." "I didn't say he lived in a hut!" "Five pounds says it has a stone floor and no indoor plumbing." "I never take bets," Merritt said loftily. "Which means you think I'm right.”

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“I met Mr. Sterling when he came to London to establish a branch of his shipping firm." She paused. "I never imagined I would someday be running it." "You've done very well," Keir commented, before it occurred to him that it might seem presumptuous, offering praise to someone so far above him. Lady Merritt seemed pleased, however. "Thank you. Especially for not finishing that sentence with '... for a woman,' the way most people do. It always reminds me of the Samuel Johnson quote about a dog walking on its hind legs: 'It's not done well, but one is surprised to find it done at all.”

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“He came to my office in wet clothes, all muscles and smolder. I hardly knew where to look." "I think you knew exactly where to look," Phoebe said, her light gray eyes sparkling with amusement. "Is he handsome?” “A stunner. Tall and big-chested, with blue eyes and hair the color of summer wheat. And his accent . . .” “Irresistible?” “Oh, yes. There’s something about a Scottish burr that makes it seem as if a man is either about to recite poetry or toss you over his shoulder and carry you away.” “Maybe both at the same time,” Phoebe said dreamily, sipping her tea.”

Scottish RomancePhoebe ClareMerritt SterlingKeir MacraeScotsmanGirl Talk
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“I occasionally try my luck at dry-fly casting on a Hampshire chalk stream." The earl glanced at Merritt and smiled reminiscently. "My daughter has accompanied me a time or two. She has excellent aptitude but little interest." "I lose patience with the fish," Merritt said. "They take too long to make up their minds. I prefer going shooting with you-- it takes far less effort." "Are you a good shot?" Keir asked. "I'm not bad," she said modestly. "She's the best shot in the family," Lillian said. "It drives her brothers mad.”

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“The revolver was chambered for .442 rounds, which meant there was only room for five. "These are large caliber bullets for such a short gun," Merritt remarked. "It's designed to stop someone at close range," Ethan said, absently arching up to rub a spot on his chest. "Being hit by one of those bullets feels like a kick from a mule." "Why is the hammer bobbed?" "To keep it from catching on the holster or clothing, if I have to draw it fast." Keeping the muzzle of the gun pointed away from him, Merritt reassembled the revolver, slid the extractor rod into place, and locked it deftly. "Well done," Ethan commented, surprised by her assurance. "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 fit 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.”

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“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.”

Travel AbroadMerritt SterlingAdventuressPlan AheadSeven Wonders
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“My brother and I are both well aware that I have nothing at all to fear from you. On the contrary, it's common knowledge that Scots are trustworthy and honest, and... and simply the most honorable of men." MacRae's scowl eased slightly. After a moment, he said, "'Tis true that Scots have more honor per man than other lands. We carry the honor of Scotland with us wherever we go." "Exactly," Merritt said. "No one would doubt my safety in your company. In fact, who would dare utter one offensive word, or threaten any harm to me, if you were there?" MacRae seemed to warm to the idea. "If someone did," he said vehemently, "I'd skin the bawfaced bastard like a grape and toss him onto a flaming dung heap." "There, you see?" Merritt exclaimed, beaming at him. "You're the perfect escort.”

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“No one's ever had this effect on me before. I feel ten times more alive." She laughed self-consciously. "Does that sound silly?" "Not at all. I understand. Your mother had the same effect on me." "Did she?" The earl let out a gravelly chuckle as he thought back to those days. "She was a fearless, free-spirited beauty with all the self-restraint of an unbroken horse. I knew she wasn't to the only life I could offer her. But I was mesmerized by her. I loved her enthusiasm and warmth, and everything that made her different from me. I thought if we were both willing to take a chance on each other, we might have a good marriage. It's turned out to be an extraordinary one." "No regrets, then?" Merritt dared to ask. "Even in the privacy of your own thoughts?" "Never," he said promptly. "Without Lillian, I would never have known true happiness. I don't hold with the common wisdom that a couple must have the same tastes and backgrounds. Married life would be dull indeed without some friction: one can't light a match without it." Merritt smiled. "I adore you, Papa. You've made it nearly impossible for me to find a man who doesn't suffer in comparison to you.”

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“Before they even reached the front door, it opened and a small, silver-gray terrier came bounding out. He stopped a few yards away from Merritt and growled. "Hello, Wallace," she said with a faint smile, and stood still as he came to her. The terrier circled around her, sniffing at her skirts. In a moment he gazed up at her with bright eyes and a wagging tail, and let her pet him. "What a handsome boy you are," she exclaimed, smoothing his fur.”

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“After another forty-five minutes, the train reached the station at Heron's Point, a seaside town located in the sunniest region in England. Even now in autumn, the weather was mild and clear, the air humid with healthful sea breezes. Heron's Point was sheltered by a high cliff that jutted far out into the sea and helped to create the town's own small climate. It was an ideal refuge for convalescents and the elderly, with a local medical community and an assortment of clinics and therapeutic baths. It was also a fashionable resort, featuring shops, drives and promenades, a theatre, and recreations such as golf and boating. The Marsdens had often come here to stay with the duke's family, the Challons, especially in summer. The children had splashed and swum in the private sandy cove, and sailed near the shore in little skiffs. On hot days they had gone to shop in town for ices and sweets. In the evenings, they had relaxed and played on the Challons' back veranda, while music from the town band floated up from the concert pavilion. Merritt was glad to bring Keir to a familiar place where so many happy memories had been created. The seaside house, airy and calm and gracious, would be a perfect place for him to convalesce.”

Childhood MemoriesMerritt SterlingResortMarsdensChallonsSeasideHerons Point
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“Keir had never suspected it was possible for a woman to wear so much clothing. After they'd gone to Merritt's bedroom, he'd unfastened the back of her velvet dress and she'd stepped out of it to reveal a profusion of... Christ, he didn't know the names for them... frilly lace-trimmed undergarments that fastened with tiny hooks, ribbons, and buttons. They reminded him of the illustrations pasted on the walls of the Islay baker's shop, of wedding cakes decorated with sugar lace and marzipan pearls, and flowers made of icing. He adored the sight of her in all those pretty feminine things.”

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“Luke paused before asking hopefully, "Did you say something about sandwiches?" Merritt smiled. "I'll bring a tray to the front parlor." She went to the kitchen, fetched various items from the larder and pantry, and set the teakettle to boil. Although most ladies of her position rarely, if ever, set foot in the kitchen, Merritt had fallen into the habit of making small meals for herself on Cook's days off. It was faster and more convenient than waiting for things to be brought to her, and there was something soothing about puttering in her own kitchen. She made sandwiches with brown bread, ham, and mustard, and added hard-boiled eggs and pickles on the side.”

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“I've spent nearly three years managing a shipping firm," she pointed out. "After all the time I've spent around longshoremen, nothing could shock me now." "Maybe not," Luke conceded. "But Scotsmen have a special gift for cursing. I had a friend at Cambridge who knew at least a dozen different words for testicles." Merritt grinned. One of the things she enjoyed most about Luke, the youngest of her three brothers, was that he never shielded her from vulgarity or treated her like a delicate flower. That, among other reasons, was why she'd asked him to take over the management of her late husband's shipping company, once she'd taught him the ropes.”

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“Let's not pretend this visit has anything to do with me. You came here hoping for a glimpse of a certain bearded Scotsman." She lowered her voice as she asked, "Did he say anything to you?" "About what?" "About me." "Why, yes, we stopped in the middle of work to gossip over tea. Then we made plans to visit the milliner and try on bonnets together-" "Oh, hush," Merritt whispered sharply, both amused and annoyed.”

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“Tell me, Merritt, if someone you knew were carrying on like this over a stranger- one of our sisters, God forbid- what would you say to her?" At the moment, Merritt didn't feel like justifying her actions to anyone, least of all a younger sibling. But during the past year, she and Luke had formed a working partnership and friendship that made their bond unique. She would tolerate more from him than from nearly anyone else in her life. "I would probably caution her that she was acting impulsively," she admitted, "and advise her to rely on the counsel of those who love her." "All right, then. I'm counseling you to stay in London and let Ransom and Uncle Sebastian decide what to do with MacRae. Whatever it is you feel for him, it's not real. It happened too fast." In her weariness and strain, Merritt's temper had a lower flashpoint than usual. She could feel it beginning to ignite, but she grimly tamped it back down and managed a calm reply. "You may be right," she said. "But someday, Luke... you'll meet someone. And from one breath to the next, everything will change. You won't care whether it makes sense. All you'll know is that a stranger owns your every heartbeat." Luke's mouth twisted. "God, I hope not.”

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“After you told me about the shirt cuff, I told you about the time I spilled ink on a map in my father's study." He shook his head, baffled. "It was a rare two-hundred-year-old map of the British Isles," Merritt explained. "I'd gone into my father's study to play with a set of inkwell bottles, which I'd been told not to do. But they were such tempting little etched glass bottles, and one of them was filled with the most resplendent shade of emerald green you've ever seen. I dipped a pen in it, and accidentally dribbled some onto the map, which had been spread out on his desk. It made a horrid splotch right in the middle of the Oceanus Germanicus. I was standing there, weeping with shame, when Papa walked in and saw what had happened." "What did he do?" Keir asked, now looking interested. "He was quiet at first. Waging a desperate battle with his temper, I'm sure. But then his shoulders relaxed, and he said in a thoughtful tone, 'Merritt, I suspect if you drew some legs on that blotch, it would make an excellent sea monster.' So I added little tentacles and fangs, and I drew a three-masted ship nearby." She paused at the flash of Keir's grin, the one that never failed to make her a bit light-headed. "He had it framed and hung it on the wall over his desk. To this day, he claims it's his favorite work of art." Amusement tugged at one corner of his mouth. "A good father," he commented.”

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