Page 9 of Claimed by the Clan Chief

She trembled at the thought of ever being in that position.

“Pack it in, Isla,” she murmured. “You have another long day tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

Sighing, she pulled the covers up tighter and nestled into the pillows.

Fortunately it didn’t take her long to fall asleep, or for dreams of McTavish to fill her mind.

His handsome face loomed over hers, his mismatched eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. Far from being the frightening warrior she knew he could be from the tales she’d heard, he’d been softly spoken and gentle with her. And that kiss! In her dream he kissed her again, with more passion and urgency. He held her tight against his body and then ran his hands down her back over her buttocks, squeezing and massaging them, learning her shape.

Her dream grew hotter… erotic. He was naked, so was she. As he explored her body—the curves of her breasts and the insides of her thighs—she did the same to him. His muscles were hard as stone and black hair coated his chest and stomach.

A sudden swat to her buttocks sent a flutter over her skin. There was a damp clenching in her pussy and desire mixed with the humiliation of having displeased him enough to earn a spanking.

And then they were doing it. The deed her friends had spoken of yet Isla had never done. But it wasn’t an ordeal. With McTavish it was pleasurable. Having him inside her created blissful sensations that skittered over her entire body making her pulse in ecstasy.

“What is happening… ohhh?” She opened her eyes to the darkness then half sat. She knew she was awake but the dream was lingering, at least physically. Her nipples were tight and tingling, and between her legs there was a dampness accompanied by internal throbbing.

It wasn’t the first time she’d had the experience of coming, though it was the first time a dream had created it.

“He’s the one.” Over her nightgown she cupped her breasts, trapping her nipples between her fingers and tugging. “I’ve been told, by Mother Nature, she wants me to have Trevor McTavish as my husband.”

A smile spread on her face and she flopped back down. For so many years she’d wondered which man she was destined for, dreading it being a wife-beating drunk, or a man from other lands—for only a Scotsman would do. But now she knew, and it was one of the finest Highlanders alive. She was indeed a very lucky lass.

She squeezed her legs together and began to plot—there was no way she’d sleep again no matter the long day ahead. This was a momentous night. A force much greater than her had spoken and now she had no choice but to act upon it.

She glanced out of the window, which framed the moon perfectly. Tomorrow it would be a full moon and that would wholly suit her needs. But she’d have to be careful. What she needed to do to make McTavish fall in love with her was dangerous, risky if she were caught.

He’d definitely spank me then. Perhaps worse, perhaps brand me a witch to all and sundry.

But it was worth the risk.

Hewas worth the risk.

* * *

Early the next morning Isla was sent by Mrs. Humphrey to collect spring greens from the vegetable garden. A low mist hovered and the cats followed her around. She picked the best leaves, as instructed, and placed them in the wicker basket she held over her arm.

She was glad to get out of the kitchen. It was a state of chaos. The laird’s nephew had announced he was going to marry Lady Moira Campbell, the pretty woman he’d brought to Fifths Castle with him, and the ceremony was to be the very next day. Creating a wedding feast in such a short time had made everyone’s tempers short.

When she’d collected the greens, she added several basil leaves to her apron pocket, then detoured to the main garden and collected small pink rose petals. She needed clove too, and apple seeds, but she’d have to sneak them from the kitchen shelf when no one was looking.

With the cats still at her heels she wandered back in the direction of the kitchen. “I haven’t got any more cream,” she said to the scrawny black creatures. “Go find some mice in the stables.”

“Who ye talking to?” Mrs. Humphrey appeared in the doorway holding a large tray piled high with potato scones.

“Just the cats.”

“Damn cats were in my pantry again yesterday,” she said, scowling at them. “As if I haven’t got enough to be doing without chasing their scrawny behinds.”

The cats slunk closer to Isla, their tails winding through the pleats of her long skirt. “I’m sure they didn’t do no harm.”

“Harm just by being there.” She held the tray forward. “Set down that basket and take these to the farrier’s anvil. He’s working on McTavish’s horse and it seems McTavish doesn’t trust him to do it right and won’t step away. The laird doesn’t want him to be without sustenance, he has a long trip ahead and needs to build his strength.” She tutted. “As if I have time to be making potato scones.”

“He has a trip? Where?” Her heart flipped then sagged. Where was he going? She’d only just found him and now he was leaving?

“Off to Edinburgh, not rightly sure when but soon.”

“Today?”

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