Twenty-five thousand gallons of extremely valuable single malt from Islay, still under bond. “That’s the usual procedure,” Merritt said. So it was just unloaded four miles inland, at Deptford Buoys.” But the dock authorities turned it away because all the berths were full. “To start with, the ship he chartered was supposed to deliver his cargo directly to our warehouse. MacRae in,” Merritt said, “you might tell me why he’s angry.” As the third son of an earl, his options had been limited, and as he’d remarked, a fellow couldn’t earn a living by sitting around looking picturesque. He’d accepted the offer without hesitation. 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. 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. I had a friend at Cambridge who knew at least a dozen different words for testicles.” “But Scotsmen have a special gift for cursing. “After all the time I’ve spent around longshoremen, nothing could shock me now.” “I’ve spent nearly three years managing a shipping firm,” she pointed out.

Merritt, on the other hand, was the only one out of the half-dozen siblings who’d ended up short and full-figured. Like the rest of the Marsden brood, Luke had inherited their mother’s long, elegant lines. Her brother was a handsome sight, with his windblown dark hair and his complexion infused with color from the brisk autumn air. Lady Merritt Sterling looked up from her desk with a faint smile. “If you’ve never been around a Scotsman in a temper, you’d better brace yourself for the language.” “M ACR AE IS AS ANGRY as a baited bear,” Luke Marsden warned as he entered the office.

Devil in disguise by lisa kleypas