Page 12 of Claimed by the Clan Chief

She carried on, moving quickly until she came to the clearing.

Once there she paused and looked around. It was a place she’d come to many times, but never to perform a love spell, though it was something she’d dreamed of doing.

The grass was lush and sparkled with the wet diamonds of the night. A gnarly log lay north to south, stretching like a long limb. Above, the perfect orb of the moon hung in the velvety night sky.

She brought her breathing back under control and then set out the ingredients for her love potion on the log. After lighting four candles and setting them alongside, she removed her cloak and laid it on the ground.

The night air penetrated the thin cotton of her nightgown, but she didn’t mind. The cool on her skin made her feel alive. It woke her flesh the way she wanted a lover to wake it.

“And soon he will.” She longed for him—to feel his body next to hers, inside hers. Their hearts would beat in time. Their breaths would flow together until death returned them to the earth.

After mixing the rose petals, apple seeds, and clove with spring water, she carefully unfolded McTavish’s handkerchief. She held it to her nose, catching just a hint of his masculine smell.

“Mother Nature and fairies, join my ritual tonight.” She began to soak the handkerchief with the love potion. “Bless our union and bless our rite. Help Trevor McTavish open his eyes to the love he feels for me. Bring us together forever.”

She tossed the empty bottle of potion aside and held up the dripping piece of cotton. She spun around, looking at the moon’s light through the thin material.

“By the light of this full moon, bring the bond I desire and marriage very soon.”

She laughed and spun faster. An image of McTavish’s face filled her mind. It was as if it was imprinted on the moon above, smiling down at her, his eyes seeing only her… forever.

She twirled and twirled staring at his face. Her feet crossed and bumped and she found herself falling onto the soft grass. Her mind knew only him and her body ached for his.

Her nightgown had rucked up and she slipped her fingers between her legs, seeking out the place that gave her pleasure. This was the last part of the ritual.

Parting her legs to allow the air to wash over her cunny, she began to stroke herself, slowly at first then getting faster. Soon she was frantically rubbing her clit, writhing on the grass and gasping.

She would have this man as her husband and lover. She would own him as much as he would own her.

Pressure built until she could hold it in no more, and she came hard and fast with the damp earth against her buttocks and back. The scent of her arousal swirled with the scent of the love potion. And all she could think of was him… only him.

Chapter Four

McTavish peered through the ancient tree trunks at the night-time vision before him.

The woman who’d stolen his thoughts since the moment he’d met her was lying on the grass writhing in ecstasy as she touched herself. He had to pinch his arm to believe what he was seeing. She was so beautiful and so completely uninhibited.

She fascinated him, this sexy nymph of the forest. With her luscious long dark hair, keen eyes, and fast mind he wanted to ken more. Much more.

He pressed his lips together and adjusted his stance. His cock was hard and pushing against his sporran. More than anything he wanted to go to her, slip between her legs, bury deep and allow her wet warmth to wrap around his shaft.

But something held him back. This was a very private moment. He knew that. And she’d been dancing beforehand, swirling as if feverish and chanting at a white handkerchief.

McTavish had enough experience with healers, with women who understood nature, the fairies and the power of the woods to ken she’d been performing a spell.

But what spell?

He wasn’t in the least bit concerned, more curious. His mother had performed spells throughout his entire childhood, for simple things like sun on her vegetables, or to make a sick cat better. He’d never known her to do harm, only good, and he sensed the same went for Isla. Though her spell was nothing like his mother’s, no, this was full of passion and want, need and lust.

It’s a love spell.

He balled his fists. She was in love with someone and wanted him to love her back. Who could it be?

Is it me?

“Ohhh. McTavish. By the power of the night, hold me tight. McTavish.”

Dear Lord above, itisme!

---