Black Raven's Lady: Highland Lairds Trilogy Read Free

northern Highlands without an escort. If that was, in fact, what she’d done.
    “My mother remains at Archnacarry Manor, as does Uncle Alex and Aunt Isabel,” she answered, confirming his initial conjecture.
    “You didn’t come here alone?” he asked warily.
    She had the decency to blush, but she didn’t look away. “If you’re asking did I come to Inverness alone, Laird MacNeil, the answer would be no. I traveled from Archnacarry with a contingent of Poor Clares. If you’re inquiring whether I am presently on my own, I would have to say yes.”
    “Jesus,” Keir muttered. “The nuns agreed to take you, unescorted by a servant or guard?”
    “The good sisters believed that I intended to become a postulant in the Franciscan order. I daresay I can’t explain how they reached that conclusion.”
    He gave a snort of disbelief. “I’m sure you could, if you cared to.”
    Keir looked over to meet his uncle’s startled brown eyes and read the discomfiture they both felt at the news. On hearing Raine’s explanation, Macraith had quietly closed the door behind him and stood with his legs braced and his arms folded.
    Raine’s chin jutted out. “I came here to the Red Boar’s Inn directly from the nuns’ hostelry. I was never in any danger.”
    Keir peered at her through narrowed eyes. “Your mother doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”
    “Oh, she most certainly does,” Raine protested, meeting his accusatory gaze straight on.
    He frowned and propped his hands on his hips. “I don’t believe Lady Nina would allow you to travel all the way from Archnacarry to Inverness without a family member. Or at the very least, an armed escort to protect you. Everyone knows there’s a rebellion sweeping through the Hebrides.”
    “Well, this is not the Hebrides,” she pointed out.
    Lady Raine Cameron rose from the wooden stool and carefully skirted the large man glowering at her with such ferocity. She moved to the diamond-paned window and looked out upon the three magnificent warships riding at anchor in the harbor.
    Tenders loaded with supplies plied back and forth through the lapping waves from the dock to the Sea Dragon, the Black Raven , and the Sea Hawk . She could see the crewmen scurrying about on the decks, unloading the crates and barrels and stowing them in the holds.
    Keir had followed her to the window. He now stood directly behind her, cutting off any escape she might attempt, should she falter and panic. She didn’t need to see the glowering colossus to know he was scowling. She was quite familiar with the chief of Clan MacNeil.
    Known to the Scots people as the Black Raven—after his ship—his enemies called him the Black Beast’s Spawn—after his notorious father. The aggravating male stood well over six feet. He had a massive chest, and the muscles of his shoulders and upper arms bulged beneath his linen shirt. Today he wore the breeches and knee-high boots of a pirate. But she’d seen him many times in the green-and-black MacNeil tartan, his pleated kilt swinging above his strong calves.
    His next words came as a low, threatening growl in her ear. “You’re telling me that your mother agreed to this?”
    Raine didn’t make the mistake of turning to face him eye to chest. Keir MacNeil was the most ferocious man she’d ever known. And she’d known him ever since she could remember. He was the youngest of three half brothers. The “Hellhounds of Scotland” just happened to be close friends of her family. Raine knew better than to show a hint of timidity in front of Keir MacNeil. She’d sparred verbally with him in the past. He could deliver a tongue-lashing that stung worse than a whipping.
    Not that anyone had ever lifted a hand to her.
    “Mama knew I’d be traveling safely with the Poor Clares,” she explained. “I told her that I’d meet up with you here in Inverness and place myself under your protection.”
    “You told her what ?” His voice shook the rafters, his words