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

farther inside. “There’s something I need to ask you before Hector begins serving our supper.” Keir gestured to the chair across from him. “Please, sit down.”
    “I’ll stand,” she replied in an icy tone. “What is it you wish to know?”
    She could adopt the distant, imperial air of royalty when she chose to. ’Twasn’t one of her more endearing traits.
    “Sit down, Raine,” he growled, his patience growing thin. He’d known this discussion would prove difficult, but he hadn’t thought he’d have to wrestle her into her chair.
    At his stern command, she dropped onto the cushioned seat, folded her hands in her lap, and lifted her brow expectantly.
    Regaining his own place at the table, Keir leaned back and folded his arms. He wasted no time in coming to the point. “I want you to give me your purse of coins,” he said bluntly.
    She turned her face to the wall, presenting him with her flawless profile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, as she pretended to study the French tapestry he’d taken from a Flemish privateer three years ago.
    “Aye, but you do,” he countered, struggling to keep his tone easy and conversational. “I want the purse you brought with you from Archnacarry, Raine. The one holding the coins you used to bribe that damn fisherman at Sanndabhaig.”
    “Pooh,” she replied scornfully. “What makes you think I gave him anything?”
    “That poor soul may be an illiterate fisherman, but he’s not an imbecile. Only a great deal of money would entice a rational man to give up a day’s fishing to ferry a lady across the bay, leaving her guards behind.”
    “Perhaps he did it because I asked him politely to help me,” she retorted, meeting his gaze at last. “Not everyone behaves like a . . .” She took a deep breath, as though suddenly afraid to go on.
    Keir rose and braced his hands on the table, leaning closer. “Like what?” he prompted. “Like a beast? Don’t cavil at the name-calling now, Lady Raine. We’re quite alone. You’ve no one to shock here.”
    Her jet eyes flashing, she pressed her lips together as though struggling to keep a rein on her unruly tongue.
    “Either you give me your purse,” he continued quietly, “or I’ll have your cabin searched. And if we don’t find it there, I’ll search your person myself.”
    “You’d go through my clothing and steal my money?” she asked, her words creaky with disbelief. “Why, you’re no better than an Edinburgh pickpocket.”
    “You can consider me your banker,” he said with a smile. She’d finally admitted she had the coins hidden somewhere. “I’ll return the purse to your guardian the day I return you safely to your mother.”
    She blinked back tears. “Pray, don’t do this, Keir. I beg you.”
    Her simple plea struck a weak spot somewhere in the vicinity of his carefully guarded heart.
    Jesus.
    Was she going to resort to weeping?
    “Don’t cry, Raine,” he told her sternly. “ ’Twill not work on me.”
    “I’m not trying to get your sympathy, you damn fool!” she said, dashing the back of her hands against the crystal drops clinging to her lashes. “These are tears of frustration because I’m a woman. For if I were a man, I’d—” She reached beneath the hem of her shirt, pulled out an embroidered moneybag from the waistband of her breeches, and threw it on the table. “There, Judas,” she said. “There’s your thirty pieces of silver.”
    Keir untied the cords and poured the gold unicorns and silver groats on the table. There wasn’t a farthing nor a half-farthing nor a penny in the pile. “This is a king’s ransom,” he said in astonishment.
    “My family has always been very generous to me,” she replied. “And I knew better than to start out on a journey without some ready funds. ’Twould have been foolish.”
    “ ’Twas damn foolish of you to begin this journey in the first place,” he told her sharply.
    Keir lifted a small heart-shaped