Black Raven's Lady: Highland Lairds Trilogy (10 page)

Raine could feel the quiet of the night envelope them like a sheltering tartan. In her mind’s eye, she took in the entire scene. The inner circle of four symbolic standing stones, the outer ring, the outlying avenues leading in the four directions, north, south, east, west. The two of them standing in a pool of moonlight. They might have been the only living beings on the face of the earth, and the whole world seemed to be holding its breath.

Raine gazed into his eyes, filled with an unexplained tenderness, and something stirred deep in her soul.

“Keir,” she whispered, not knowing what it was she wanted to tell him. “Keir . . . I . . .” She stepped closer and lifted her hand to his face. “I . . . want . . .” She traced her fingers along the square line of his jaw, prickly from a day-old beard. She inhaled the tangy smell of leather and Scots pine, as she followed the line of his upper lip with her index finger. He drew a deep, ragged breath at her exploring touch.

As Raine lifted her face to his, the fearsome warrior gently cupped her cheek in his hand and brushed the pad of his thumb across the closed seam of her lips. Keir gently slipped his thumb inside her mouth, moving across her teeth, to sweep along the sensitive edge of her tongue. The penetration was shockingly erotic. Raine tried desperately to hide the sexual excitement awakening inside her. With a deep sigh, she turned her face and pressed her lips against his calloused palm.

At the feel of her innocent kiss, Keir pulled Raine to him. No man could resist such incredible sweetness. In spite of all his resolutions, he lifted her up and covered her lips with his open mouth. He coaxed her closed lips open and touched the tip of her tongue with his, exploring the taste and feel of her. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and moving her tongue into his mouth. The unexpected intimacy threatened to bring him to his knees.

Her entire body quivering in delight, Raine brought her hands down to loosen the cords on the collar at the base of Keir’s throat. She slipped her hands under his shirt in timid exploration. She could feel the muscles of his powerful shoulders tauten beneath her fingertips. She splayed her fingers along the base of his strong neck and felt his pulse throbbing beneath her thumbs.

Keir broke the kiss to follow the delicate line of Raine’s jaw with his open mouth. He pressed light, lingering kisses along the pale column of her neck. He breathed in her intoxicating floral scent and groaned deep in his chest.

“Darling, darling lass,” he murmured, before coming to his senses.

Keir abruptly set Raine down and stepped back, incensed at his own lack of control.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

He’d brought her to this forbidden place with one intention and one only. And it sure as hell wasn’t to seduce her.

After their visit to the standing stones of Calanais, she’d have no reason to run off. He could be assured that she would remain on board the
Raven
, until he reached a port where he could find a reputable family to protect her. When the rebellion had been quelled, he’d take Lady Raine Cameron home to Archnacarry Manor and her family. And goddammit, he would marry the maid of Strathfillan and make the best of it.

“We’d better go now,” he said brusquely.

Before I lie with you in the soft grass.

Before I cover your body with mine.

Before I confess just how much I want you.

Averting her gaze, Raine gave a quick nod. “Yes,” she whispered, “we should go now.”

Together they quietly made their way back down the slope and returned to the cutter. Keir lifted Raine into the boat, shoved it into the water, jumped in, and retrieved his oars.

He looked back at the monoliths outlined by the gleaming moon behind them, clearly the seat of an ancient power center. Keir was forced to admit to himself that Raine’s aunt had been correct. The standing stones were wondrous, reaching back into mankind’s collective memory. No one could visit them without becoming aware of the undying legacy left by Scotland’s earliest peoples. ’Twas as though Keir and Raine had somehow communed with their remote ancestors.

They remained in awed, reverent silence as he rowed the cutter across the loch to the
Black
Raven
.

Raine sat in shock at what had just occurred between her and The MacNeil. There could be only one explanation. They had blundered into a celebration of the Tuatha De Danann—the faeries. Lady Isabel Cameron believed in the faery faith, as did most of the people of Celtic descent, despite the conversion to Christianity by their forebears. In the Highlands and Isles, as well as all of Ireland, the two beliefs existed side by side, for the knowledge and acceptance of the faery world went too deep and was far too pervasive to be extinguished by the mere warnings of the religious clerics.

When Raine was young, Aunt Isabel had explained that the standing stones had been erected thousands of years ago as a temple to the Mother Goddess. But for the last millennium, it had also been a gathering place for the faeries. The belief in the coming of the Shining Ones by the local folk had been the real reason the clergy had forbidden visits to the sacred site.

Her aunt had taught Raine about the Tìr-na-nog—the Otherworld. The world inhabited by the faeries. At Calanais, Raine and Keir hadn’t just become enraptured by the power of the standing stones and the moon’s mysterious standstill. Oh, no. At the entreaty of the faeries, the Mother of the Universe had coupled them together, as surely as if they’d said their marriage vows in the cathedral of Edinburgh. There was no human being on the face of this earth who could change it.

It had happened.

That was that.

’Twas imperative now that Raine leave the
Black Raven
before any intimacy occurred between her and Keir. If she kept her distance from him, if she remained vigilant, careful not to touch him or—God forbid—kiss him again, perhaps she could escape the ship before the irresistible attraction caused by the evening’s magic took over their individual self will. Not that it would change anything in the end. All she could do was gain a little time. Time enough to find her father.

At last she understood the vision she’d seen during her seventeenth summer. The eroticism of the dream had been a foretelling of things to come. If she were ever to find her natural father, if she were ever to accost Torcall MacMurchaidh with his despicable behavior toward her mother, she had to leave the
Black Raven
as quickly as possible. And in order to leave, she had to retrieve her money.

Deep in his own thoughts, Keir plied the oars in a steady rhythm. Guilt and self-loathing at his failure to keep his distance from Raine sat across his shoulders with the weight of an anchor.

He should never have touched her.

He would never touch her again.

As they approached the galleon, with its stern lanterns winking across the still water, his lovely companion broke the quiet. “Now that you’ve taken me to see the standing stones, will you give me back my coins?”

Her abrupt question brought a sense of grave unease. Could that explain why she’d so willingly returned his kisses? She needed the coins to leave the
Raven
.

As Keir continued to row, he debated the answer to her question. It might be safe to return her stash of coins, but the way she averted her gaze and stared out across the sea loch raised an annoying suspicion. Had she lied to him once again about the reason she’d come on this voyage? She’d appeared sincerely thrilled to visit the standing stones. Yet there could have been a second reason for leaving the safety of her home. One she’d kept well hidden.

“Not yet,” he said at last.

She glowered at him, clearly upset at his answer. “Well then, when?” she demanded. “When will you give me what’s rightfully mine?”

“I told you before,” he replied, certain now that he’d made the right decision, “I’ll give the coins to your uncle when I return you safely to Lady Nina.”

“They belong to me,” she said, putting an emphasis on every word, as though he were the court fool.

“That’s too much money for a wee lassie like you,” he countered. “Everyone knows females have nay the practical commonsense to handle more than a few pennies at a time.”

She gasped. “Why, you pompous, braying jackass!”

He lifted a scarred eyebrow in derision. “Back to name-calling, are we?”

Scowling at him, Raine folded her arms and refused to reply.

Keir brought the cutter alongside the
Raven,
where Macraith stood at the gunwale, waiting for them. Keir lifted Raine up the ladder, while his uncle helped over her the side.

“Where have you been?” Macraith asked in a worried tone. “I was beginning to wonder if I should send out a search party.”

Keir frowned. “What the devil do you mean? We were only gone a short while.”

“Dod, man,” Macraith said, keeping his voice low. “You’ve been gone most of the night.”

Keir shook his head in confusion. “I must have lost complete sense of time.”

Stunned, he glanced toward Raine. During his hushed conversation with his uncle, she’d quickly moved to the companionway and was starting down the stairs to her cabin.

“I hooked the cutter to the chains,” he told Macraith. “We can bring it on deck tomorrow before we make sail. There’s no need to wake the morning watch unnecessarily.”

Keir glanced up into the rigging, where the dark outlines of the lookouts hovered above them. He swore softly to himself. The entire crew would know by noon that he’d taken Lady Raine ashore and been gone for a suspiciously long time.

Chapter 8

S
OMEWHERE BETWE
EN SLEEP
and awake, Keir heard the sound of the door opening. He reached for his broadsword lying on the floor beside his bed. As his fingers grasped the handle, he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and moved to his feet.

Raine seemed to hover near the doorway, bathed in the moonlight that streamed through the cabin’s windows behind him. She still wore the red cloak from earlier that evening. When she pushed down the sable-trimmed hood, her ebony hair cascaded over her shoulders.

’Twas the middle of the night.

And he stood bare-ass naked.

Sword in hand, Keir glanced at the door she’d closed behind her. “What’s wrong?” he asked, ready to move past her and ward off any danger that threatened.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she answered softly. “I couldn’t sleep after our disagreement this evening. I didn’t kiss you because I wanted my money back, Keir. I know that’s what you think, but it’s not true.”

“We can talk about this in the morning,” he said curtly, replacing the weapon on the rug. “You should go back to bed now, Raine.”

Keir took a deep breath, trying to regain some equilibrium and calm his immediate response to her presence. Every nerve in his body sang with desire. His staff grew rigid and heavy at the thought of Raine lying in the rumpled bed behind him. Any second, she’d realize the state of his engorged arousal and run for the safety of her own quarters.

Instead, Raine seemed to float across the room, her bare feet making no sound on the rug. “Not yet,” she insisted in a dreamy, faraway voice. “I’m not going back to my cabin until I convince you what I say is true.”

She released the cords at her throat. The red cloak drifted to the floor, where it pooled around her toes. She stood there nude, her female body exquisite perfection in the moonlight.

“Raine, you don’t have to do this,” he said, certain her goal was to recover her coins.

“I want you, Keir,” she whispered. Her dark eyes grew moist and two teardrops spilled down her cheeks. “Don’t you want me?”

With a groan, Keir reached out and pulled Raine to him. He cupped her round buttocks in his hands and lifted her up for his kiss. Covering her lips with his open mouth, he thrust his tongue inside, tasting her honeyed warmth. Her scent filled his nostrils as he lifted her higher still, until he could take one pink nipple into his mouth and then the other. He suckled her gently, making the twin globes sway.

“Maybe we should talk first,” she suggested.

“Nay, lass,” he replied. The feel of her cool, bare skin pressed against his fevered body assured Keir he was about to enter paradise. He wasn’t going to risk heaven for some needless conversation. If she wanted him, he wouldn’t refuse her.

His heart thundering, he carried Raine to the bed and sank down on the soft mattress beside her. Leaning over her, he gently brushed one whiskered cheek and then the other across her silken breasts. Tracing the tip of his tongue from the hollow of her collarbone to the tip of each perfect globe, he licked her soft, pliant nipples into hard wee buds.

Whispering hushed endearments, Keir kept a tight rein on his burgeoning passion. ’Twas her first time.

“I’ll go slowly, darling,” he soothed. “I’ll teach you what it’s like to lie with a Highland warrior.”

Keir slipped his palm along her smooth thigh, and his heart skidded to a halt at the fragile beauty of her body. He lifted his large bulk over her slender figure, easing himself between her bent knees. The need for her threatened to overwhelm his control.

“Raine,” he said hoarsely, “Tell me you want me to take you.”

She gazed up at him with huge, dreamy eyes. “Take me now, Keir,” she urged.

“After tonight,” he warned, “you’ll belong to me, Raine. And I’ll never let you go.”

He rose up on his hands, ready to bury himself deep in her welcoming warmth . . .

. . . and awoke from his dream.

W
IDE AWAKE
,
K
EIR
threw the covers from his overheated body and went to stand at one of the cabin’s tall windows. The full moon shone through wisps of clouds. Waiting for his heartbeat to slow and his sexual desire to ebb, he braced one hand against the window frame and gazed out at the lapping waves, phosphorescent in the silvery light. He’d had the same recurring dream, or one very much like it, off and on for the last two years.

Dammit to hell.

He could control his thoughts and his actions during the day, but his body took over at night.

He had tried to quench this fever racing through his veins. He’d seduced married women of the highest rank, who’d grown tired of their husbands and were seeking a few guilty pleasures. He’d paid expensive harlots and bedded them two and three at a time, certain that if he rutted long enough and often enough with enough voluptuous females, he’d wipe Lady Raine Cameron from his exhausted brain and his tortured body. And with the decision to choose a bride, he’d thought he had succeeded at last.

Until Raine had appeared at Inverness and blasted his hard-won success into a thousand pieces, with a heedless power equivalent to a long-range cannon. And the ensuing shrapnel had pierced the armor around his carefully guarded heart.

Goddamn that Colin MacRath.

If that idiot hadn’t allowed Raine to trick him into taking her aboard the
Sea Hawk
with her outright lies about a cousin’s childbirth, none of this would have happened.

Keir shook his head at the bitter realization that the same could be said for him. He’d been just as big a fool. Worse. He’d allowed Raine to dupe him more than once.

Macraith’s suggestion that Keir transfer Raine to the
Sea Dragon
, entrusting her safety to Fearchar, would have been an excellent solution. Except for the fact that Tam MacLean served on the
Dragon
as second in command. And that tall, yellow-haired Highlander, with his too-ready smile and his over-quick hands, would prove even more of a threat than Colin. The afternoon Tam had dared to reach out and touch Raine’s hair, Keir had been sorely tempted to send him overboard with a swift kick to his rear. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do worse to the clever fellow—and everyone present knew it. Tam was Rory’s kinsman.

Nay, there was nothing for it, but to keep Raine on board the
Black
Raven
.

And hold her at arm’s length.

T
H
E FAINTEST GLIMPSE
of dawn peeking through the small window of her cabin found Raine already dressed and pacing the floor. She’d been awake since returning to the ship, wrestling with her dismay and confusion. What she’d told Keir about the ancient monoliths had been quite true. But she’d held back something far more important. Something she knew he’d refuse to believe.

Over and over during the early morning hours, she’d revisited what had happened between her and Keir. She didn’t need to ask why the stern and disapproving chief of Clan MacNeil would suddenly kiss her in such a sensual manner. Or why she’d returned those kisses as though drugged with a magic elixir.

Dear God above, she’d reacted to Keir’s seductive overtures by touching her tongue to his. She’d untied the cords that fastened his collar and slid her fingers beneath his shirt to caress the solid muscles of his chest and shoulders.

Keir MacNeil.

The man she’d always considered rough and outspoken and lacking in any tender feelings whatsoever. In the past the only emotions he’d shown toward her ranged from mild irritation to outright rage.

Raine sank down on the edge of her mattress and clasped her hands as though in prayer. But she didn’t pray. Her racing thoughts mirrored her racing heartbeat. If Keir hadn’t stopped of his own accord, would she have had the strength to pull away? The unfamiliar stirrings of sexual desire had nearly overcome her natural reticence.

’Twasn’t guilt that spurred her thoughts. ’Twas the certainty that what had happened at the standing stones had set in motion a chain of events that would tie her to Keir MacNeil forever.

The vision that had secretly haunted her for the last two years unfolded before her.

Surrounded by their families, Raine stood beside Keir, his arm placed protectively around her shoulders. He looked down at her swollen belly and beamed with unmistakable male pride.

Raine had often wondered if she understood the vivid dream of her seventeenth summer. Since that time she’d become ever more determined that the vision would never come true. Although she’d pretended to be unaware of the court gossip about Laird MacNeil’s many beautiful mistresses, she’d have had to be deaf not to hear the prattling tongues.

Raine bent her head and covered her face with her hands. She was quite familiar with the Celtic legend of Tristram and Isolde.

Sir Tristram had been sent to Ireland to bring back Isolde the Fair, the promised bride of a Cornish monarch. But during the return voyage, the two unknowingly drank an enchanted potion from a goblet—a magical elixir that had been meant solely for the future groom, King Mark, and his bride. Tristram and Isolde had fallen irresistibly under the spell of an unending and tragic love.

The only possible reason Keir and Raine had responded to each other in such an inexplicable way at the site of the standing stones was that they’d become enchanted. A spell had been cast over them by the Tuatha De Danann, perhaps because the unsuspecting pair had interrupted the faeries’ celebration of the mystical standstill of the moon.

Raine waited impatiently for the sun to rise above the eastern horizon. She’d go to Keir at once and explain what had happened. Together they would hold fast against the faeries’ magic by the sheer dint of their combined willpower. She knew it would only bring a temporary reprieve at best. But hopefully one long enough for her to slip away from the
Black Raven
.

E
ARLY THAT MORNING,
Keir stepped out of his bath and ran a piece of linen toweling over his wet body. A light knock sounded on the door behind him, just as he reached for his breeches.

“Come,” he said, expecting MacFarlane to enter and begin emptying the large wine cask, which had been cut in half to serve as a tub. An audible intake of air told him Hector hadn’t just entered the cabin.

“I’m so sorry,” Raine said, her strangled voice betraying her embarrassment at his nudity. “Please forgive my intrusion.”

But she didn’t leave.

Keir pulled on his breeches and turned to face her. She still wore her seaman’s garb from the previous evening. Long wisps of her braid had come loose and framed her face, giving her the tousled appearance of having just climbed out of bed. The languorous effect tightened every muscle in his body.

“If you came to join me for breakfast, my lady,” he said, bracing his hands on his hips, “you’re a wee bit early.”

Raine gazed at the colossus before her, the magnificent sight leaving her speechless. Keir’s wide shoulders and scarred chest bulged with muscles. A holy medal hung from a silver chain around his neck. Celtic bands encircled his massive upper arms. His soaked black hair fell loose to his shoulders, the side-braids still intact and tied with leather thongs. A moment before, she’d had an excellent view of his broad back and taut buttocks. An inked image of the
Black Raven
, all sails filled, covered his shoulder blades.

Holy Lord.

The MacNeil’s physique was a paean to the fierce Highland warrior.

Raine’s mouth went suddenly dry, and she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. She had to fight the feelings the sight of him stirred within her. She mustn’t be overwhelmed by his sheer masculine presence.

Raine drew a deep breath and continued, her voice reedy and high-pitched. “I . . . I came to explain what happened last night at the standing stones.”

“I ken what happened,” he told her with a scowl.

“Not . . . not really,” she countered, stepping farther into the room. Raine was determined not to let her resolution falter, no matter how angry he became. “At least, you don’t know
why
it happened.”

His answer came clipped and surly. “I think I do. You wanted your purse of coins, so you kissed me.”

“Oh, ’tis much more than that,” Raine said. She looked down at her hands, fingers interlaced and clasped tightly at her waist, searching for an explanation he’d be willing to accept. Finally she looked up to meet his cynical gaze. “Do you know the story of Tristram and Isolde?” she blurted out.

Keir stared at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Of course,” he said at last. “Every Gaelic-speaking child has listened to that fireside tale more than once. What the hell does it have to do with last night?”

Raine prayed she’d find the right words to convince him. Keir had to return her bag of coins and allow her to leave the
Raven
at once before the faeries’ spell became too strong. If not, she’d never find her father—because she’d never willingly leave Keir’s side. Even now she found it difficult to think or speak clearly.

“We . . . you and I . . . we are like Tristram and Isolde,” she told him earnestly. The Tuatha De Danann were there last evening, Keir. We must have interrupted their singing and dancing in the moonlight, and they wrapped an enchantment around us so we couldn’t see them. That’s why we —”

“Stop.” Keir held up his hand, apparently exasperated. “What happened between us had nothing to do with faeries, elves, witches, or wizards, Raine. I wanted to kiss you. You wanted your money. End of story. Don’t make it into something it wasn’t.”

“But don’t you see,” she insisted, her words hoarse in her desperation. “We have to fight this together. We mustn’t let it happen again.”

His emerald eyes glittered as he jerked on his shirt. “I promise you, Raine, it will nay happen again.”

They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Hector had stopped just outside the open doorway. “Excuse me, Captain,” he said with a quick jerk of his chin. The towheaded lad held a bucket in one hand, with toweling folded over his other arm. He took a hesitant step back. “If it please you, sir, I’ll return later.”