Page 44 of Claimed by the Clan Chief

“Devil’s servants don’t get a bed.” Rabbie tugged open the door then shoved her inside.

He used such force she staggered then fell sprawled on the hard wet ground.

“No.” She managed to get to her hands and knees. Her hair fell forward dragging in the dirt and her hands sank into the mud. “Please, no.”

Her body ached and hurt. She’d never been so scared in her life. In only a matter of hours she’d gone from being happy and looking forward to the future to facing death at the stake.

“Sacred Mother. Sacred Nature. Show me which way to go. I need to ken. I beg you to point the way at the end of this day.”

Chapter Twelve

The night was laden with a chill mist that seeped ghost-like into the hole Isla had been caged in. She hugged her knees and shivered as a rat scuttled past the gate. Tears still ran down her cheeks but she’d long since stopped swiping at them.

I have to get out of here.

She knew that was the case. But she’d rattled the bars trapping her until she’d had blisters on her palms and her shoulders had pained her. But even if she escaped, the villagers would catch her, she was sure of it.

I’ll run. I’ll run so fast no one will catch me. The devil himself won’t be able to catch me.

Cold seeped into her bones. She began to shiver, her teeth chattering. The clothes she wore offered little warmth against a Highland night. Soon her stiff limbs ached so much she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand let alone run.

How she wished she could turn back time and refuse Una’s request for an ill wish. If she’d known Una would so easily give her up to the madding crowd she never would have agreed to it. It had been a reckless thing to do, to trust a woman who’d never earned her trust.

She closed her eyes and instantly McTavish’s face came to mind—his kind smile set in gruff features. Wild hair, strong jawline, love-filled eyes. More tears flowed, but not for her situation this time, but for the fact she’d never see the man she loved again. At first light, she was sure, a short trial would end with her being tied to a stake and set alight. She’d go from freezing cold to burning hot and then her soul would be all that was left in the pile of ash. A pile of ash she hoped would be taken by the spring breeze back to the glen she’d first made love to McTavish in. That was where she wanted to be for all of time. If this was her fate, then that was her last wish.

Eventually the sun creeped into the sky, bringing with it the chirp of the birds who cared not for her predicament and made a merry sound. She hunched further over, hating the dawn for with it came death.

A trial would not be fair. These people wanted blood, they wanted a killing, they wanted to see her burn to cinder. Nothing she could say or do would save her.

She was doomed.

Beyond the bars the village came to life. Cockerels crowed, children squealed and shouted, a donkey brayed. Deep men’s voices rumbled over the grass and a few women called out for children or animals.

Isla kept her head buried in her skirt, wishing she were back in her waterfall glen and in McTavish’s arms. That was what she’d think about as the flames licked up her body. She’d think of the joy and love he’d brought into her life, not of the hate these people had for her.

Her heartstrings tugged. He’d be crushed when he discovered she was dead, she knew that with everything she was. Their love was mutual. Two souls who had truly connected and had the blessing of all the good energies within the earth, wind, and sky.

“Get out here, witch.” A loud clang and the scrape of metal on earth. “Now.”

She was forcibly extracted from her prison and dragged to standing. Her spine felt as though it had been stabbed with a thousand needles and her legs had turned to lead.

Rabbie gripped her arms behind her back and shoved her forward.

It was then she saw it. A pyre had been prepared, complete with a thick wooden stake.

Nausea gripped her “No, no. This is a mistake.”

“Shut up, wench.” He shook her and her straggly, dirt-filled hair stuck to her cheeks, a strand went in her mouth and she spat it out.

“So when is my trial? It seems you’ve already found me guilty.” She glared at several villagers who’d stopped what they were doing to watch Rabbie hauling her toward the pile of branches and sticks. Most of them looked quickly away.

“You’ll get your trial.”

“When I’m tied to a stake? That’s hardly fair, you ken.”

“This is not for you to decide, witch.”

“I am nay a witch and this is my life. Of course it is for me to decide.”

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