Black Raven's Lady: Highland Lairds Trilogy by Kathleen Harrington Page A

lass, before you can do that.”
    She laughed outright at his tone of condescension. “You doubt I could learn? Indulge my curiosity, if you please. I’d like to know how you chart our course across the unmarked ocean.”
    “Navigation requires a great deal of mathematical calculations,” he hedged. “I’m afraid you’d find it all very boring.”
    “Still you could explain what you’re doing the next time you plot the ship’s course. I might not understand everything, but perhaps I could follow a bit of it.” She wrinkled her nose mischievously. “After all, you agreed with Macraith that I am a lass o’ parts,” she reminded him.
    “Aye, I did,” Keir agreed. “But my uncle would make a better tutor than me. Macraith has far more patience with impetuous halflins.” At her look of disappointment, he added impulsively, “We could try one morning and see how well you like it. You’re free to tell me, if it becomes tedious.”
    Too late Keir realized he’d just made a serious misstep. In his attempt to please her, he had committed himself to spending time with Raine in the confined space of his cabin. Naturally, either Macraith or Barrows or both would be right at their side. He’d damn well see to it.
    T HE NEXT MORNING Raine stood at the bow of the ship, looking out over the waves. The crisp air fanned her cheeks and tickled her nose with the tangy scent of salt water. She closed her lids and lifted her face toward the cerulean sky, enjoying the sensation of moving across the living sea. A sea that teemed with fish and dolphins, while gannets and gulls soared overhead.
    When she opened her eyes, Keir stood beside her.
    “ ’Tis bonny in the morning,” he said with a grin of understanding.
    She nodded. “It seems so peaceful with only the Hawk and the Dragon in sight. It’s hard to believe that somewhere men are planning to wage war.”
    Keir turned his head and looked across the whitecaps at the two galleons racing along beside the Raven . Raine could hear the regret in his somber tone.
    “Aye,” he replied. “The more we Scots fight amongst ourselves, clan against clan, the weaker we become as a nation.”
    “Do you think we’ll ever know peace?”
    “I hope so,” he said. “Once this rebellion is put down, and the traitors are taken to Edinburgh to be tried and executed, there may be a chance for a lasting peace.”
    “Who is it you suspect of treason?”
    Keir met her gaze, a scowl creasing his scarred forehead. “Not suspect , Lady Raine. Torcall MacMurchaidh has declared his support of Donald Dubh. That makes him guilty as sin.”
    “So you’ll kill him without a qualm if he doesn’t surrender his castle?”
    Keir shrugged. “ ’Tis the way of it, lass.” He must have read the dismay on her features. A dismay she tried to hide. Or perhaps ’twas the way she’d stiffened at his words. “I’ll nay kill a man if I don’t have to,” he said, his deep baritone revealing his stubborn pride. “I’m not a bloodthirsty monster, in spite of what you may have heard.”
    Remembering how she’d called him an ogre, Raine bit her lower lip in embarrassment. She peeked up beneath lowered lids to meet his solemn gaze. “I know that, Keir. Gideon held you and your brothers in the highest esteem. And my mother loves the three of you as though you were her own sons.”
    “And do you think of me as a brother, Raine?” he asked, his words so low she could barely hear him. He bent his head, as though intent on her reply. His side-braids fell forward and the gold hoop in his ear swayed.
    She stared at Keir in shock at the preposterous suggestion. The memory of her vision of the two of them brought a flush to her cheeks. Her words came out in a plaintive croak. “Do you think of me as a younger sister?”
    He paused for the space of a second, then seemed to choose his words with care. “I think of you as the beloved daughter of a close family friend.”
    Inexplicably, his polite, measured