Black Raven's Lady: Highland Lairds Trilogy (3 page)

Raine looked around the cavernous room. The tower house appeared well prepared for a siege. Lochaber axes, pikes, and claymores decorated the stone walls, along with swaths of blue-and-white tartan. In the past the Macdonald lords of the Isles had sacked and burned the city of Inverness, putting its inhabitants to the sword.

Raine and her gruff escort waited in the hall only a few minutes before the castle’s laird and lady hurried in to greet them. Laird MacSween had a thick brown beard and a bald pate. Though he lacked Keir MacNeil’s sheer muscular bulk, the middle-aged man appeared to be as battle ready as his castle. His wife had a large, square frame and a face splashed with freckles. Wisps of graying red hair poked out from under the edges of her unfashionable double-horned headdress. But her wide smile conveyed a sunny disposition.

The two men clasped hands, then turned to their feminine companions.

“Keir!” Lady MacSween exclaimed. “What a surprise to see you! We thought you’d have set sail by now.” Her blue eyes alight with curiosity, she looked questioningly at Raine and then back to Keir.

Keir honored his hosts with the briefest of smiles. “May I introduce my young charge, Lady Raine Cameron?”

Finn MacSween smiled broadly in welcome. “I greatly admired your father, Lady Raine,” he said, taking her hand to kiss. “I felt sore distressed at the news of Gideon’s untimely death. How is your dear mother?”

“I left Lady Nina well,” Raine murmured, surprised that her host was acquainted with both her parents. Until that moment, she had never met Laird MacSween.

Keir bowed to the castle’s amiable chatelaine. “Perhaps you ladies might enjoy each other’s company, while I speak privately with your husband on the king’s business.”

“Certainly, certainly,” the portly man immediately agreed. He brushed a knuckle back and forth under his bearded chin as he glanced over to his wife with a dismissive tilt of his head.

“What a delightful idea,” Lady Dorothea agreed. With an encouraging smile, she clasped Raine’s hand and pulled her gently along. “Come, dear, we can sit in the garden. We’ll partake of refreshments while the men talk.”

Though Raine hated to let Keir MacNeil out of her sight for even a moment, she could scarcely refuse her hostess’s gracious invitation. As she and Lady MacSween withdrew, Raine glanced over her shoulder to find the tall warrior watching her departure with smug complacence. She’d rarely seen Keir MacNeil look so self-satisfied. Which meant, of course, that she dare not trust him. He was, no doubt, hatching some clever scheme to be rid of her.

K
EIR WATCHED T
HE
two females leave, then turned to Finn MacSween. “Lady Raine traveled to Inverness with a group of Poor Clares, who’ve come to set up a new hospital,” he clarified. “She surprised me with her arrival.” Keir hooked both thumbs in his sword belt and scowled. “I have a favor to ask of you, laird.”

Finn nodded with a knowing wink. “Aye, and I’ve a notion I ken what it is. Come, my friend, let’s have a draft of ale while you explain how the young maid of Archnacarry came to be in your custody just as you’re about to sail into battle.”

They sat down at a long table before an enormous fireplace and waited while a servant brought two tankards of ale and set them on the bare board.

Keir quickly described how Raine had shown up unexpectedly at the Red Boar’s Inn that morning with no family or guards to protect her. He admitted to Finn that it seemed probable she had, in fact, traveled to Inverness with a group of nuns, just as she claimed. But though she denied it, he suspected she’d left her home without permission.

“I’m hoping,” Keir told his host with an apologetic smile, “that you and your kind wife will offer her the safety of Inverloch Castle until her uncle can come to fetch her home. I’ll send Laird Cameron a message informing him of her whereabouts before I board the
Raven
.”

Laird MacSween smoothed his pudgy fingers over his bare head and lifted his thick brows in astonishment. “Of course, of course. I’ll gladly offer Lady Raine our protection. But what in God’s name was the lass thinking to attempt such a dangerous journey with only the company of a few religious women?”

Keir shook his head. “Damned if I can explain such willful behavior, except to say that her Aunt Isabel must have had something to do with it. That secretive female dabbles in spells and magical concoctions. Her foolishness seems to have spilled over to the lass. Raine claims to have the second sight.”

Finn pursed his lips and gave a low whistle. “Perhaps she does,” he said with a speculative lift of his shoulders. “I’ve a distant kinsman known to see things before they happen. Willem saw his father on his deathbed a month before the old man died.”

Keir gave a snort of disbelief. “Old men are known to die quite regularly. And sooner rather than later. I wouldn’t wager two farthings on Raine having any special powers. She’s nay more than a halflin herself.”

“What reason does the maiden give for this astonishing escapade?”

“She claims that she wants to reach the Isle of Lewis, where a cousin is nearing childbirth,” Keir replied. “Since Lady Isabel couldn’t respond to the summons for help because of her advanced age, Raine elected to go in her aunt’s stead. Though what an unmarried lass would know about birthing an infant remains to be explained.”

Finn nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, but who can decipher the workings of the female mind? Especially when it’s anything to do with the mystery of childbirth.” He lifted the pewter tankard and drank deeply. Setting it down with a thunk, he wiped his bearded chin with the back of his hand. “Now tell me about the rebellion, lad. What plans do ye have to quell the unrest sweeping the Isles?”

“I’m to sail the
Raven
with my brothers’ two ships under my command to the Isle of Lewis. I’ve been commissioned by the king to lay siege to the castle at Steòrnabhagh, where we believe Torcall MacMurchaidh is harboring Donald Dubh Macdonald. I’ll take both traitors into custody for transport to Edinburgh.”

Laird MacSween rested his forearms on the tabletop. “You’ve your work cut out for you there, lad. Castle Murchaidh is nigh impregnable. The bulwarks are ten feet thick with cannon emplacements all along the sea walls.”

“We’ve cannon enough ourselves,” Keir said, “with swivel mounts and master gunners to man them. The fortress will fall in less than a week After that we’ll rendezvous with the royal fleet at Calgarraidh Bay.”

MacSween clucked his tongue in somber reflection. “ ’Tis a bad business,” he said with a rueful shake of his head. “Bad, indeed. Too many lives will be lost in a needless cause that’s doomed before it’s begun. Surely some compromise could be reached with the other rebellious clan chiefs, once Donald Dubh and MacMurchaidh are captured.”

“I’d like to think so, but I doubt it.” Keir tipped his tankard up and drained it. Then he stood and braced one foot on the wooden bench. “I lay the entire fault at the earl of Argyll’s feet. If he hadn’t imprisoned his own grandson for years, some agreement might have been reached by now. Donald Dubh has to be seething with bitterness and hatred. As the heir to the lord of the Isles, the lad’s ripe for leading a rebellion of the entire Macdonald clan and their allies.”

Finn nodded his agreement. “Meanwhile, Argyll seems to be obsessed with turning all this turmoil, all the bleeding and dying, to his own advantage. I believe the greedy bastard hopes to gain control of the trade route to Ireland in the end, whether it takes him one year or twenty.”

Keir had to agree. “King James made a grave mistake in appointing Argyll the Master of the Royal Household. He and the other councilors quickly abandoned the king’s attempts at reconciliation with the chiefs of the Isles. Instead, they embarked on a policy of coercion guaranteed to stir up old hatreds.”

Laird MacSween rose to his feet and laid a hand on Keir’s shoulder. “You’ll be wanting to take your leave of Lady Raine, before you go.”

“Nay, you’re wrong there, laird,” Keir said with a shake of his head. “I’m not telling Raine Cameron that I’m leaving her here with you and Lady Dorothea. And I’d appreciate it if you’d wait awhile before you inform Raine of my departure.”

Finn MacSween burst into loud guffaws. “Oh, aye,” he said between chortles of laughter, “I ken what it is you’re about, lad. ’Tis far easier to face the boom of a cannonade than the screeches of an outraged female.”

Keir didn’t disabuse his friend of the belief that Raine would attempt to get her way with a shrieking tirade. However, Keir knew better. Rather, the problem centered on the fact that Raine had been given her own way by every member of her doting family for her entire life.

Keir intended to be on board the
Raven
and sailing up the Firth of Moray before Lady Raine Cameron realized she’d been tricked. Hell, she’d known him most of her life. She should have realized he had no intention of taking her with him. But once she acknowledged the certain fact that he’d sailed without her, she’d come to her senses and agree to wait for her Uncle Alex to arrive at Inverloch Castle and collect her.

Keir and Raine had butted heads before, when she’d tried to convince others that she had the second sight. But he knew that, as stubborn and single-minded as Raine might be, his will would always prove stronger.

After all he was deceiving her for her own damn good.

Chapter 3

T
HE THREE SHIPS
sailed in close formation into the North Sea, leaving behind the calmer waters of the Firth of Moray. Keir stood on the starboard side of the quarterdeck and watched the
Black Raven
’s sister ships, the
Sea Dragon,
captained by Fearchar MacLean, and the
Sea Hawk,
under the command of Colin MacRath, cut through the churning waves like white-winged birds of prey.

A feeling of elation took hold. Keir smiled to himself, savoring the moment. Heading out to open water always brought a thrill.

A sudden niggling of guilt spoiled the moment. He scowled at the thought of Raine’s abject disappointment, when she realized he’d abandoned her. Hell, he hadn’t exactly
abandoned
her. He’d left her in the care of two kindhearted people, who’d watch over her until her family arrived.

In the end she’d given him no other choice. For he could never have taken Raine on board the
Raven
. ’Twould have been unthinkable. Having her so near and not succumbing to his desires might prove more difficult than anything he’d ever done. He sure as hell didn’t intend to find out.

Keir’s gaze swept the horizon. ’Twas perfect sailing weather, with the air so clear small details could be seen a great way off. From the corner of his eye, a glimpse of bright red cloth, snapping and blowing in the brisk sea breeze, caught his attention. He squinted against the sunlight and peered at the deck of the
Hawk
.

The memory of Raine trying on a red cloak flashed before him. She’d lifted the sable-trimmed hood over the satin sheen of her dark hair, and her eyes had sparkled like polished jets in her pleasure.

“Macraith!” he roared.

His uncle hastened to his side but failed to realize that Keir was glaring at the nearby
Sea Hawk
. Macraith stared out over the waves to the far-off horizon, expecting, no doubt, to see the sails of an enemy vessel approaching. “Captain?” he asked, clearly befuddled.

“Signal the
Hawk
to heave to and prepare to be boarded,” Keir ordered. “Then lower a boat and send Barrows over to transfer Lady Raine to the
Raven
.”

Macraith’s head swiveled as he turned to look at the trim galleon running alongside them. “Lady Raine?” He all but choked out the words. “Why—why, I thought you’d left the maid at Inverloch Castle.”

“So did I, dammit,” Keir gritted through clenched teeth. “So the hell did I.”

Twenty minutes later Barrows returned and timidly approached his glowering captain. “Beggin’ pardon, sir,” the grizzled seaman said, his weather-beaten face flushed with mortification. He snatched off his cap and clutched it in bent, calloused fingers. “The Lady Raine sends her regards to the ship’s captain, sir, and says she’d rather remain on board the
Sea Hawk
.”

“What?” Keir snapped.

Barrows leaned closer and, with an air of confidentiality, spoke just above a whisper. “The lassie says she’s nay comin’ aboard the
Raven
, but she thanks ye for the invite.”

“I’ll fetch her,” Macraith offered before Keir could bellow in outrage.

“Do it,” Keir grated. “And tell that—tell Lady Raine if I have to come and get her, she won’t sit down for a—”

“I’ll bring her,” Macraith interrupted with a wave of his large hand. “There’s nay need to threaten the wee lassie with a punishment you’d never administer.”

“I don’t make threats I won’t carry out, and you damn well know it. Now get going. And when you return, take her to my cabin immediately,” Keir ordered. “We don’t need to discuss her reluctant arrival in front of the entire crew.”

R
AINE GAZED AROUND
Keir’s private quarters and waited in trepidation. She’d seen him watching from the quarterdeck above them, as his uncle had helped her clamber up the ladder. ’Twas an embarrassingly clumsy process, with Macraith lifting her up from the swaying boat below, while another seaman pulled her up over the gunwale and onto the main deck. Had she weighed ten pounds more or were the men any less strong, Raine was certain they’d never have gotten her aboard.

Macraith had led her to the captain’s cabin where he dropped Raine’s bag and satchel on its ornate Turkistan rug and left her in ominous silence. The apprehension in Macraith’s solemn brown eyes told her the coming interview with his volatile nephew wasn’t going to be pleasant.

She didn’t have long to wait. Nor near enough time to gather her wits and fabricate a suitably heart-wrenching story.

Keir MacNeil stormed in and kicked the cabin door shut with the heel of his boot. He moved swiftly across the floor to stand in front of her, planted his hands on his hips and leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers. The battle scar that ran through his right eyebrow and across the broken bridge of his nose heightened the sinister cast of his blunt features.

“Are you happy now?” he demanded before she had a chance to say a word. “Are you completely satisfied, Raine Cameron, now that you’ve gotten your way? Now that you’ve put yourself in jeopardy and burdened me with your safety in one fell swoop? And all to help some woman who’ll probably deliver her baby before you even arrive.”

Raine retreated two small steps, halting when the back of her knees bumped against the edge of his large bed. She attempted to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. When she tried to speak, her upper lip stuck to her front teeth and she was forced to run her tongue across them. “You were the one who insisted I transfer to the
Raven
,” she pointed out. Suddenly breathless, she forged ahead between gasps for air. “I would have . . . much preferred . . . to stay . . . under the protection . . . of Colin MacRath.”

Keir straightened and folded his powerful arms across his chest. His words came drenched in scorn. “Oh, aye! You’d have enjoyed that, wouldn’t you? To stay on board the
Hawk,
where you could twist that impressionable lad around your wee finger.”

Refusing to back down, Raine looked her tormenter straight in the eye. “Colin’s a grown man and captain of his ship. He can make his own decisions.”

“Not when I’m bloody commander of the squadron, he can’t,” Keir gritted.

They were interrupted by a polite tap on the door.

“Come in, Macraith,” Keir called over his shoulder. “You can see for yourself I haven’t strangled her—yet.”

Macraith entered, his worried gaze moving from one to the other, as though to assure himself that the young lady was holding her own. But he waited in cautious silence, clearly used to riding out his nephew’s intermittent bouts of temper.

“Well, go on,” Keir told his uncle, with a wave of his hand. “Say what you’ve come to say on Lady Raine’s behalf. I can see it in your eyes. You’re about to defend the indefensible.”

“Err . . . I was about to suggest that the lass can have my cabin. I’ll bunk with the ship’s quartermaster, sir. ’Twill be no trouble. No trouble, at all.”

Keir looked up at the ceiling and shook his head in apparent exasperation. “An excellent suggestion, Macraith. Because I sure as hell am not giving up my quarters.” He grinned malevolently as his gaze ensnared Raine’s. “Unless, of course, you’d like to share them with me.”

“You’re an ogre,” she said quietly. “You always have been. And you always will be.”

“At last, we are in complete agreement, Lady Raine.”

T
HAT EVENING
K
EIR
and Macraith sat at the intricately carved oak table used for dining in the captain’s quarters, waiting for the arrival of their tardy guest.

“I was afraid this would happen,” Keir said, gesturing with impatience for the towheaded midshipman to stand back and refrain from serving the meal. “By now Lady Raine will be too ill to keep anything in her stomach, and she’ll only get worse through the night. We’ll have to make for the first safe harbor in the morning and pray to God we can find a reputable family to leave her with.”

“Och” Macraith remonstrated with the tranquility of age and experience, “almost all passengers suffer from a bout of nausea their first time out. Don’t predict the worst for the lassie, till the worst actually happens.”

Keir scowled at his uncle’s calm demeanor. “Dammit to hell, a spare-built female like Raine can die of seasickness, and we both know it.”

Keir felt half nauseous himself, as though someone had administered a punishing kick to his gut. God knew, he’d tried at Inverness to avoid this very thing. The thought of Raine lying helpless in her bunk, unable to keep anything in her stomach as she grew increasingly weaker, brought him to his feet. He’d go look in on her now and not wait for things to get any worse.

Just as Keir slid out of his chair, Raine appeared in the open doorway, attired in a lavender gown. Her lustrous ebony hair, plaited in one thick braid and wound into a figure eight, had been fastened at the nape of her neck with a blue satin ribbon. Her dark eyes sparkled, their luminous depths framed by long, curved lashes.

A picture of glowing health, she smiled sedately, apparently unaware of the misery she’d just put him through. “I’m so sorry to keep you both waiting.” She looked from one man to the other without an iota of contrition. “I was standing at the railing, watching the dolphins frolic in the waves. I simply lost track of the time.”

“Then you feel up to eating?” Keir asked, unable to keep the relief from his voice. He stood in front of the table, too astonished and grateful to move.

Macraith jumped to his feet and indicated for Raine to be seated.

She nodded to Keir’s uncle as she slipped onto her chair. “Ah, indeed I do. I haven’t eaten since this morning when I—” She stopped abruptly, no doubt remembering that ’twas Lady MacSween who’d last offered her refreshments at Inverloch Castle.

Keir signaled the seventeen-year-old midshipman to begin serving the meal. Hector MacFarlane stepped forward to ladle the thick broth filled with chunks of lamb and vegetables into Raine’s bowl. She picked up a warm loaf of bread from the wooden tray on the table, broke off a piece and inhaled the aroma wafting up from her trencher.

“Mm, it does smell wonderful,” she said, with another appreciative sniff.

Keir watched in surprise as Raine dipped her bread in the stew and began eating with relish. When she noticed him staring, she lifted her brow.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked.

Keir shook his head as he sat back down. “Not at all. We were just saying that we hoped you weren’t suffering from the pitch and roll of the ship. These northern currents can be treacherous, even in the summertime. We’ll experience some choppy seas until we reach the calmer waters of the Minch.”

“Oh, I came prepared for that,” she said with a soft laugh. “Aunt Isabel packed some ground root known for preventing illness at sea in my satchel, along with my other remedies.”

“Known by whom?” Macraith asked, his craggy face alight with a lively interest. The kindness of his smile showed the warm affection he felt for the young lady. “I’ve nay heard of such a cure.”

“Well, my aunt, for one, knows the beneficial properties of ginger,” she told him. “And I as well. I’ve studied healing recipes under Aunt Isabel’s tutelage since I was eight.”

Macraith grinned at Keir. “Now here’s a lass o’ parts,” he said with a chuckle, waving his spoon in the air.

“Oh, aye,” Keir agreed. “I’ve always known that Raine had wits enough for two females. ’Tis plain commonsense she’s lacking.”

Macraith leaned closer to her and spoke softly in her ear. “Pay no attention to yon blathersnipe, my dear. You’ll make some lucky fellow a fine wife one day.”

“Oh, I don’t plan to ever marry,” Raine replied with unruffled composure.

“And why not?” Macraith asked, making no attempt to hide his astonishment. “A sonsy lass like you will have to fight the lads off with a belaying pin.”

Keir took a piece of bread and dipped it in his stew. “Lady Raine quite possibly believes she’ll never find any gentleman worthy enough to garner her affections,” he offered sardonically.

Raine met his gaze, seemingly mystified at his derisive tone. “Oh, it isn’t that at all,” she protested. “ ’Tis simply that I intend to devote myself to the healing arts, like my aunt. And like her, I shall remain a maid.”

“A hell of a waste that would be,” Macraith declared. He turned to his nephew. “Don’t you agree?”

Keir sat back in his chair and twirled the stem of his glass of port between his thumb and forefinger. “If Raine believes she should spend her life grinding up roots and casting bones like her spinster aunt, she’s even more foolish than I thought.”

Raine looked at him quizzically, as though trying to understand if there was a deeper meaning to his caustic remark. She tipped her head to one side and studied him. Her perceptive eyes seemed to read his carnal thoughts. “You don’t seem to be in any hurry to wed, yourself, Laird MacNeil,” she pointed out.

“Now there, you’re wrong,” Keir told her, immensely pleased to find that she couldn’t read his thoughts at all—carnal or otherwise. “As a matter of fact, I am presently in negotiations for a bride. Before leaving on this campaign, I instructed my uncle, the earl of Appin, to approach the lady’s father with my offer.”

Macraith stared openmouthed. “The devil, ye say! That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

Ignoring his uncle’s incredulity, Keir watched Raine’s reaction through narrowed eyes. Just as he expected, she smiled in tranquil detachment, completely unaffected by the thought that he was going to wed. Hell, that came as no surprise.

“May I offer my congratulations?” she inquired sweetly. “Or is it too soon? Perhaps we should wait to find out if the lady accepts your proposal.”

“You mean to imply that ’tis likely no lady would ever accept me for a husband?” he baited, pushing her to admit that’s exactly what she did believe. “You think the negotiations are bound to fail when the maiden declines my offer?”

“Nay, lad,” Macraith interrupted. “No one is so foolish as to believe that! Why, you’re the legitimate heir to a personal fortune. You’ve widespread lands and a castle on Barra. What woman in her right mind would refuse the chief of Clan MacNeil?”