Page 2 of Claimed by the Clan Chief

She gulped and looked away. Her thoughts were unwholesome, and she didn’t want him privy to them. He was her laird’s guest, not a man she should be having daydreams about—especially not lying-with-him-naked daydreams, having-his-cock-inside-her daydreams.

For the love of Mother Nature, I have to get out of here.

Isla gathered the hem of her skirt and scurried from the room. All of her life she’d hidden the teachings her aunt had passed onto her—the secrets of the forest and the power within the plants that grew there. The whispers of the trees at night. The ways of the fairies and the magic of the moonlight.

Oh, she’d had suspicious looks and even the odd comment, but never more than that. She’d been careful not to get herself into trouble with her otherworldly dabbling.

But now… now there was a man right here who could see into souls and learn all kinds of secrets.

She rushed down the wide stone steps and into the kitchen. The scent of broth and brine weaved around her, mixing with the sweetness of pastry.

“In heaven’s name, lass, slow down.” Mrs. Humphrey scowled as she worked at the kitchen table with Diane. “You’ll fair fall flat on your face.”

“Sorry.” Isla came to a halt and glanced over her shoulder.

“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Diane said.

“A ghost.” Isla wiped her ale-stained hands on a cloth and pulled in a deep breath. “Och, no, not a ghost, just a man who…”

“Who made your heart skip a beat.” Mrs. Humphrey chuckled as she set the finishing touches to a platter. “About time you found a suitor, though I’m surprised it’s one of those smelly old fools that rattled in with the Jacobite the laird admires so much.”

“Exactly, smelly old fools.” Isla didn’t want Mrs. Humphrey and Diane prying. Privacy was something she valued; she had to, with her skills. “Shall I take this out to the table?”

“Aye, you do that.” Mrs. Humphrey turned to the stove. “And then come right back. I’ll need you to take more ale out. Una says they’re drinking like they’ve never seen ale before. God only knows when they’ll have their fill.”

Isla reached for the plate. It was hot and she quickly set it down then grabbed a cloth to protect her fingers.

After delivering the food, Isla rushed back to the kitchen and scooped up a tray set with jugs of ale.

“Be sure to put that at the top of the table; it’s the new barrel, the best we’ve got. The laird will want McTavish to sample it.”

“Aye, I can do that.” Though she wouldn’t look him in the eyes again. Once was enough, he already knew too much.

Una barged in, muttering about another slap on her ass, then set about pouring ale into mugs. “Watch out for them,” she said to Isla. “The more of this they drink, the more handsome they believe they are.”

“And most have no teeth and warts on their noses,” Isla said.

“No hair, and chitterlings for smiles.” Una laughed and Mrs. Humphrey and Diane joined in, the sound rushing around the hot kitchen and lightening the mood.

But Isla’s mood didn’t lighten for long. Returning to the banquet hall, she realized she was in for a devil of a night. The guffawing and ale drinking was in full flow and it was clear these men had the stamina of wild boar.

“Hey, you lass, over here.” The toothless man who’d leered at her before waved his arms in her direction.

Isla ignored him and set the tray at the head of the table as cook had instructed.

“Ah, you will like this, McTavish, try it.” The laird smacked his lips together and pushed the tray toward his guest. “I’ve instructed for a barrel of the best ale to be opened in your honour.”

“Aye, it looks good. You are too kind.” McTavish turned his attention from the ale to Isla. “Thank you.”

Quickly she backed away, knotting her fingers and looking at the floor. His deep voice spun in her head and seemed to vibrate through her chest. It was as if there was no one else in the room when he spoke. There was such command and confidence in his deep tones.

After two steps she found her shoulders colliding with a wall of stone, or at least that’s what it felt like. A dank musky scent assaulted her nostrils.

Gasping, she turned.

The man who’d been harassing her earlier gripped her shoulders and set his attention on her breasts as though he could see through the material of her dress.

“Get off me,” she said, shoving at him.

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