Black Raven's Lady: Highland Lairds Trilogy (12 page)

Raine looked away, avoiding The MacNeil’s shrewd gaze. What would he say if he knew she’d been gambling with his men in an attempt to acquire enough coins to leave the ship?

“I will tell you if that happens,” she promised, then asked in curiosity, “What would you do if you found someone had stolen from me?”

“I’d have the hide flogged off him,” Keir stated with complete dispassion.

Raine tried to ignore the jab of fear that lanced through her. If it came to that, she’d have to tell the truth. Keir might want to flog the hide off
her
, but he wouldn’t. Being an old family friend had its privileges.

T
HE MINUTE
K
EIR
disappeared down the companionway, Raine hurried to find one of the ship’s young gentlemen. Robbie Gibson sat on the main deck at the larboard bow, practicing his knotting and splicing. Fortunately, Barrows had guided Ethan up into the rigging, too far above them to hear.

Raine crouched down on the scrubbed planks beside Robbie. “I need you to find al-Rahman and tell him to meet me on the gun deck,” she said, speaking barely above a whisper.

“The Moor?” Robbie asked in surprise, leaping to his feet. His eyes lit up, sensing the tension in her guarded tone. The sea breeze ruffled his unruly thatch of red hair. In the bright sunshine, the coppery freckles covering his round face made him look even younger than his ten years.

“Yes,” she said. “Tell him to bring Simon Ramsay and Apollonius with him. But you have to hurry,” she added, giving him a gentle push. “Don’t waste a minute. And don’t stop to talk to anyone but al-Rahman.” Then Raine slipped away, hurrying to the gun deck before Barrows noticed she’d finished her conversation with the captain.

Grateful that no one was polishing the shiny brass cannon that afternoon, Raine waited impatiently belowdecks. The light streaming through the grating of the open hatchway above her head illuminated the darkness. The long guns were lashed securely in place against the ship’s hull and their ports were closed and fastened tight.

She’d been there only a short time when al-Rahman appeared. The Moor touched his fingertips to his forehead as he bowed low. “You wanted to speak with me,
sultana
?” He smiled warmly, as though certain he knew the reason for their secret meeting “I do not have time for another game of dice now. Perhaps early tomorrow when the morning watch takes over.”

At that moment, Apollonius and Ramsay arrived, walking toward them along the row of cannon.

Raine addressed the three men in a low, urgent tone. “I need to get my things back this very minute,” she told them, fighting a sense of panic.

Al-Rahman’s hand went to the lavender ribbon hanging from his neck, and he immediately began to lift it over his hairless head, making the gold hoops on both earlobes swing gently.

But Ramsay stared at her in mystification, thinking, no doubt, that she was attempting to renege on her former wagers. “That’s nay the way it usually works, milady,” he said, confusion written on his long, solemn features.

“I’ll pay you for the ribbons,” she added quickly, meeting their baffled gazes. “But I must get back everything I lost yesterday.” She drew a deep, steadying breath and then continued in a rush. “Laird MacNeil suspects that you’ve stolen the items from me. He’s noticed the hairbands and has leapt to the wrong conclusion. He’s threatened to have the three of you flogged for theft.”

“We would never steal from you,
domina
,” Apollonius said with mild censure. His scarred, bearded features puckered in a scowl, enhancing the piratical aura that always surrounded him. “Surely, you would never tell him we did?”

Shaking her head, Raine paced up and down the gun-deck. “I would never do that,” she assured them. “I would never accuse any of you of stealing.” She pressed her hand to her temple, trying to think. “But I also don’t want your captain to know that I’ve been wagering. That’s especially important to keep secret because if he suspects I’ve won money from you, he’ll be very angry at me.”

The three officers exchanged worried looks, which didn’t surprise her. On land the sport of gaming was enjoyed by all levels of society. Wellborn ladies were known to be especially devoted to playing for high stakes. But if MacNeil was dead-set against her wagering, they could be in serious trouble.

“What can we do to help you, Lady Raine?” Ramsay asked, his eyes filled with kindness. His normally stern features softened in concern.

“Please allow me to buy back my things,” she pleaded. She opened a small canvas bag tied with string. “I won thirty farthings. You can share the money between you.”

Shaking his head, al-Rahman held out Raine’s lavender hairband. “Keep your coins,
sultana
,” the tall, broad-shouldered Moor said. “Our glorious captain rescued me from slavery on a Turkish galley. He pays us well, and we share in his profits as a privateer. I am honored and most grateful to be a member of his crew.”

Ramsay waved his large hand back and forth, indicating that he, too, refused to take her winnings. He untied the blue ribbon from his dark brown pigtail, reached over and pulled his friend’s green tie loose as well.

“Certe
,
domina
,” Apollonius agreed with a wide toothy smile. “Keep your coins in your purse.”

“But I must warn you, milady,” Simon Ramsay said, his blue-eyed gaze sober. “If Captain MacNeil questions us about this, we must tell him the truth. We can’t lie to his face. He’ll ken our deception in an instant, and we’ll receive double the lashes as punishment for lying.”

“The captain rarely has a man flogged,” al-Rahman explained. “But if he thought we had stolen from you, the cat would come out of its bag.”

Raine’s vision blurred, her eyes overflowing with tears at their kindness. That three battle-hardened men could be so understanding and generous-hearted touched her deeply. “Yes, of course,” she agreed, her voice trembling. “I will go up to my cabin and change into a gown at once. Then I’ll appear on the main deck, wearing one of the ribbons. And I’ll make sure MacNeil sees me. Now I must hurry before Barrows comes looking for me and finds us in collusion.”

Chapter 10

“Y
OU WISH TO
see me, Laird MacNeil?”

Raine waited in the doorway of his quarters, ready to turn and flee if he started to upbraid her. She left the door wide open just to be safe.

Keir rose from his place at a small game table near one of the high inward-sloping windows at the very back of his cabin. She could see the sunset through the glass behind him, the drifting, wispy clouds rose colored. He gestured to the oak chair across from him.

“Please,” he said in a voice conveying total authority.

She really had no choice.

Raine walked reluctantly across the thick rug and perched on the edge of the hard wooden seat. Dressed in the pale blue gown she’d worn to dinner earlier that evening, she’d tied her long braid, twisted into a figure eight at the nape of her neck, with the bright blue ribbon she’d retrieved from Simon Ramsay.

As Keir sat back down, Raine glanced about his luxurious quarters.

Lanterns had been lit in several places around the cabin in preparation for the darkness to come. Their flickering yellow light spread a lambent glow over the tapestries, carpets, and paintings gathered from all over Europe and the Ottoman Empire. She watched him cautiously, waiting for an explanation of his imperious summons.

Scarcely looking at the objects in his hands, Keir shuffled a deck of tarots, the cards flying through his agile fingers. “I’m told you like to gamble,” he said quietly. His emerald gaze gave nothing away. But his softly spoken words sent a chill down Raine’s back.

He knew.

Simon Ramsay had warned her they couldn’t lie to him and get away with it.

And now Keir knew that she’d been wagering with members of his crew.

She stiffened, staring at him in silence, determined to give nothing away. He continued to shuffle the cards and the ominous sound of their clicking seemed to foretell that her punishment would be swift and unforgiving.

If his intention was to frighten her into a confession, he was going to be disappointed. Until she spoke with the seamen, she couldn’t be certain if Keir was merely guessing or someone had disclosed the gambling and the extent of her winnings.

“Perhaps you’d like to play cards instead of dice,” he suggested. “Are you familiar with the game of tarot?”

She caught glimpses of the trump cards—the riders and the fool—flashing by, as he handled the tarot deck with astonishing skill.

Raine lowered her gaze to her hands folded tightly in her lap. “Somewhat,” she hedged. Gideon had taught her card games starting from the age of seven. They’d played with tarot cards often—sometimes just the two of them, sometimes as a team against her mother and aunt. “I believe I can remember the rules,” she added, trying to sound as innocent as an unsuspecting lamb being led to the shearer’s barn. “But of course, never for coins.”

“Why don’t we strike a small wager, just to keep it interesting?” he suggested as he dealt the tarots.

“Is that allowed on board ship?” she asked, trying to hide her increased interest as she picked up her hand and scanned her cards.

Keir nodded. “Do you have anything to wager other than your pretty hairbands?” he continued, in the smooth patter of a light-fingered cutpurse just before he steals your money.

She looked up to meet his unreadable gaze. How much did he really know? “I have a few farthings that weren’t in my purse when you took it,” she said truthfully. “Not many,” she hurriedly added, afraid he might insist on taking those from her as well.

He smiled and the sea-weathered corners of his eyes crinkled engagingly. His deep green gaze seemed to glow with friendliness. “Then let’s start with two farthings a game,” he suggested. “Later if you’re feeling brave, we can raise the stakes.”

Raine bit her lower lip as she debated the wisdom of betting against Keir.

It might not be such a wise idea.

They had played chess together when she was a youngster, but she’d always lost. At seventeen, however, she had defeated him for the first and only time. She’d been so thrilled she’d jumped up from her chair and executed an impromptu little victory dance. His reaction to losing the chess game had seemed incomprehensible.

Keir had departed Archnacarry Manor immediately, leaving Lachlan to make his younger brother’s excuses to Lady Nina. From that day on, Keir MacNeil had kept his distance from Raine, treating her as someone he barely knew.

All because he’d lost a chess game to a young woman.

What unmitigated male vanity.

Now commonsense told her to back away from the contest and keep the few coins she’d already won in the dice game. She might spark his ire once again, if she bested him at cards.

Still the lure of gaining more funds for her escape proved too much to ignore in the end. Should he start to get angry, she’d think of an excuse, give back his money and beg to return to her cabin.

“Two farthings a game,” she finally agreed and pulled open the silk purse that hung from her girdle.

Her worries proved unfounded. Keir cheerfully met defeat after defeat, until Raine had amassed a gratifying pile of coins. She knew her success wasn’t necessarily all due to skill. She had a run of amazing good fortune that evening, and Keir’s luck had run foul.

As they played, darkness had overtaken the last vestiges of sunset. In the lantern light the two card players were reflected in the pane of the tall window behind them. An intent young woman still perched on the edge of her seat and leaning forward in concentration. A powerfully built man in white shirt and black breeches slouched back in his chair, seemingly paying little attention to the card play.

Satisfied at her winnings, Raine decided to end the contest while she was ahead. “I think I’d best retire before I fall asleep at the table,” she said, feigning a yawn. She started to gather up the coins in front of her.

“Let’s play one last game,” Keir suggested, reshuffling the tarots. “How would you like a chance to double your winnings?”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Raine replied, about to push back her chair and stand up.

Keir reached into the sporran he’d placed close by. He threw two gold unicorns on the tabletop. “I’ll wager these against your stack of farthings.”

Raine sat up even straighter and stared mesmerized at the golden blur of the coins spinning on their edges before coming to rest with two soft clinks.

“ ’Tisn’t a fair bet,” she protested. “I’ve not nearly that much money.”

He flashed a cajoling smile, showing his even white teeth. “Indulge me, lass. Give me one last chance to win back the evening’s losses.”

Raine hesitated. The thought of passing up the opportunity to leave the table—and ultimately the ship—with two gold unicorns tucked into her canvas bag overpowered her fear of failure.

She gave a quick nod. “One last game then.”

But her streak of luck disappeared in a trice. She watched in dismay as Keir took one trick after another with incredible speed, barely waiting for her to make her next play before tossing his trump card down.

As he counted his points for her at the end of the game, she rose, determined not to show her devastation. Her overriding need for the wherewithal to steal away from the ship had been her undoing. When she looked up from her few, paltry trump cards to meet his gaze, there was no trace of triumph in his eyes.

His features devoid of expression, he stood as well.

“Congratulations on your fine card play,” she said, sounding stilted and hoarse to her own ears. Raine willed herself to remain calm till she could reach the sanctuary of her quarters. How could she have been so foolish and greedy?

“I could not allow you to leave the
Raven
,” he said softly.

At his words, Raine realized he’d planned her debacle all along. Keir had enticed her into wagering everything she’d won from his crewmen with the full intention of taking it all. Right down to the last farthing.

In that moment she detested him for his crass exploitation of her need. Had he simply wrested the coins from her as he’d done before, she might have forgiven him. But not this coldhearted manipulation—giving her hope, till nearly the very end, and then snatching it all away at the last moment.

“Good evening,” she said, the words coming out in a pitiful croak. She hurried out of his quarters, paying no attention to his soft-spoken reply.

Keir watched Raine leave the cabin, her head high and her back straight in a futile attempt to hide the desolation she felt at her losses—and her unvarnished contempt for him. “Good night, my darling lass.”

He’d really had no choice.

Keir had to make it clear to Raine that on his ship, his commands were to be obeyed. Completely and absolutely.

She had to realize he’d never allow her to run off again.

T
HE
B
LACK
R
AVEN
caught a fair wind through the Sound of Harris, where colorful puffins with their bright orange beaks could be seen nesting along the banks. Gannets and cormorants circled overhead, scanning the waves for fish, while seals lay sunbathing on the rocks.

The sleek galleon entered the Little Minch close-hauled, the rigging humming. She arrived at the Isle of Skye two days after her sister ships, the
Sea Dragon
and the
Sea Hawk
. Entering the wide harbor of Loch Dùn Bheagain, the
Raven
fired a salute to the fortress, which promptly returned her salvo.

Dating back to the fourteenth century, mighty Dùn Bheagain Castle had been built on the site of an ancient Norse fort and had been the stronghold of the chiefs of Clan MacLeod for two hundred years.

By the time the
Raven
hove to and anchored alongside the
Dragon
and the
Hawk
, Keir had elicited an agreement of sorts from Raine on how to explain her presence on board his galleon.

“We’ll say that your mother asked me to convey you to a kinswoman on Lewis who was nearing a possibly dangerous childbirth,” Keir instructed. “By the time we’d arrived in Tolm, the infant had already been born, safe and sound. Since your help was no longer needed, it was decided that you remain on board the
Raven
until we find a suitable ship for passage to Appin, where your family can meet you.”

She raised her arched brows in a manner calculated to irritate him and made no reply.

“Is that story clear?” he demanded, trying not to react to her blatant provocation.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m not an idiot,” she replied with all the icy disdain of a princess.

Hell, she looked like royalty in the scarlet gown she’d chosen that morning, with her thick black braid crowning the top of her head. She wore her pearl earrings, and her shawl, made of the black-and-red Cameron tartan, was draped over one shoulder and pinned with a pearl-studded broach.

All the Scots on the
Black Raven
were attired in their colorful clan tartans, fully expecting a celebration of their safe arrival at Dùn Bheagain in the midst of a rebellion.

Descending the ladder first, Keir assisted Raine down in silence. Al-Rahman, clad in his fanciest caftan embroidered with multi-colored threads, guided her into the gently rocking longboat.

“Sit forward,
sultana
,” the Moor suggested as he touched his hand to his forehead and bowed in a deep salaam. The
Raven
’s master navigator waited for his captain to be seated, then signaled the men to lift oars.

Keir was well aware that his entire crew was fascinated—nay, spellbound—by the elegant creature who walked among them with such unconscious grace. Most of the seamen had never been near a high-born lady, let alone talked to one so entrancing. And she visited with them daily, showing a sincere interest in their lives, both on land and on sea. He suspected she knew more about their lives ashore than he did.

So when Raine seemed unusually reserved that morning, the men were nearly desperate to cheer her. They acted like a goddamned bunch of Barbary apes, grinning and chattering and pointing to the enormous castle rising majestically against the pale morning sky and reflected with startling clarity in the cobalt blue loch.

“Silence!” al-Rahman called out.

The seamen grew instantly quiet, till all that could be heard was the splash of the oar blades cutting through the flat water.

Macraith, who’d come ashore earlier that morning with Hector, Ethan, and Robbie, waited as the sailors jumped out and pulled the craft onto the shore. He swung Raine out of the longboat and placed her on dry land, then turned to Keir.

“Alasdair MacLeod is here,” Macraith said. “He’s sworn his loyalty to the king. Howsomever, The MacLeod’s nay certain where MacMurchaidh and Donald Dubh could have fled. We’re welcome to take on fresh stores of water and victuals,” he continued, “before we push on to Cairn na Burgh Mòr. A hunt has been planned for this afternoon, and we’ve been invited to a feast this evening.”

“Aye,” Keir replied with a quick nod. He placed a guiding hand at the small of Raine’s back and accompanied her to the waiting horses. He tossed her up into the saddle on a dainty mare and then mounted a large black gelding.

Macraith drew his bay up beside hers. “You’ve some friends at the castle, milady, hoping to dance with you this evening after the banquet.” His warm brown eyes twinkled with a teasing good humor.

“I’m looking forward to it,” she replied with her first smile of the morning.

“Forbye, Colin and Tam are liable to trip over each other’s big feet hurrying to ask you for the first galliard,” he told her, his wide grin splitting his thick mustache and the full beard decorated with glass beads. “Especially considering the opportunity for a kiss at the end of the dance.”

The fact that a galliard always ended in the bestowing of a chaste kiss on the lady’s cheek by her gallant partner had never irritated Keir before. This morning, however, he fairly seethed at the idea of either Colin or Tam placing their greedy lips on Raine’s flawless skin.

“MacRath and MacLean had best be getting their ships supplied,” Keir interjected with a scowl. “We’re in the middle of a bloody rebellion. We’ve no time to waste on foolishness.”