Page 23 of Claimed by the Clan Chief

“You’re going tonight? To the village?”

“I’ll have to borrow a horse and get there. Likely I’ll get a hiding for being so late but I’ll have to put up with that.”

“A hiding… don’t you mean a spanking?”

“Huh, a spanked ass I could put up with, might even enjoy it.” Una grinned suddenly and her usual dour face changed to a pretty one. “If it were with a man I could enjoy myself with.” The crease lines in her forehead returned. “But no Rabbie. He’s no the type to have fun with.”

“But you must have once, when you laid with him.”

“Aye, once, maybe.” She shrugged and set down her empty plate. “But no since. I’ll give ye a wee bit of advice, Isla.”

“Go on.”

“When you eventually find yourself a Scotsman to marry, make sure he’s kind… oh, I don’t mean one that won’t tip you over his knee if you disobey him, ‘cause they’ll all do that, but kind in a way that means he’ll be fair, won’t use his fists and…” She tipped closer and lowered her voice. “Makes sure that when you lay together you also get pleasure.”

An image of McTavish grew in Isla’s mind, her peripheral vision blurred and she thought of his face so close to hers as he’d cupped her cheeks. His eyes had flashed with desire, he’d been excited by her, she’d ken that, but he’d also been in tune with her body, and understood the ways and wants of a woman. “I’ll try to remember your advice.” She licked her lips, remembering his taste. Knowing what he’d done when she’d had her eyes closed thrilled her.

“Aye, you do that. Not that you’ll ever meet anyone here. All those blow-ins are good for nothing ale-swillers who harp on about the rightful king.”

“Scotland securing the true throne is of great importance.”

“Aye, I agree, but in day to day life a bit of fun is more important.” Una set down her plate. “I’ll take more ale out, you do the same.”

“Aye, I’ll just finish this up.”

“Be quick, I don’t want to have to do all the work.”

Isla scowled at Una’s retreating back then turned to the window. Una was getting more snappy as she got older, but haps that was a symptom of being married to a brute who could barely look after himself, let alone their two offspring when Una was working her fingers to the bone.

When she’d finished her lunch and had a mug of ale to sustain herself, Isla slipped away to make a sage poultice for McTavish. A few days with the healing qualities of the herb should do the trick, if not she’d have to source ginger and make him a salve of that with garlic, clove, and cinnamon. She carefully placed the poultice in her pocket.

When she returned to the kitchen she piled up another tray of ale mugs to take to the feasting room. One of the stable hands had been given the job of tippler but was struggling to keep up with the guzzling crowd.

McTavish was seated at the top of the table next to the laird. The bride and groom sat to his right—the bride particularly beautiful despite needing salts after a walk in the wood the day before—and Reid, the groom’s ever-present friend was also close by.

Isla studied them. When she’d glanced up at the landing a few nights previously she’d seen the bride with this man Reid, the man she wasn’t promised to. There’d been something between them. It had almost crackled in the air like a shower of tiny sparks from the farrier’s hammer. They were more than comfortable together as friends. They were burning with something else… desire?

If that was the case she hoped the laird’s nephew Kendal wouldn’t get hurt by his wife’s infidelity. Isla had always liked Kendal when he’d visited. He, like his uncle, was a gentle man despite being a fierce warrior. Though Laird McDonald didn’t do warrior duty these days. His bones were becoming aged.

As she piled her tray with empty plates, bowls, and mugs, her attention landed on McTavish.

He was staring her way despite having the bride’s brother, Bryce, talking animatedly to him and the laird.

She stilled; it was as if everyone else in the room faded away. The noise in her ears quieted. It was only him she could see, or wanted to see.

He raised his right hand, then smoothed the fingers of his left over his right palm.

Her cheeks flushed and her buttocks tingled as though nettle tips were brushing over them. She remembered the feel of him holding up her skirts and exposing her ass. The way his lips had trailed over her skin. And the slaps, the spanking, they were lasting reminders that they’d been so intimate.

A smile tilted his lips and his eyes sparkled.

A tremble went through Isla and she quickly looked away, fearing the entire room would ken what they’d done together, and that the laird’s distinguished guest had fingered her cunny and slapped her buttocks.

She had to concentrate as she took the tray back to the kitchen. There was a strange quiver in her belly and her knees were weak. She’d be glad when the day was over and she could lie down. She’d be even happier not to have to drag herself out of bed early—her one day off a month had come at the perfect time. Perhaps she’d pleasure herself again and think of McTavish.

She yawned. It seemed falling in love was quite exhausting, as was creating midnight spells to ensure the feelings were reciprocated.

Eventually the ale casks dripped out the last of their contents, and the plates of food emptied. The revellers drifted away though a few stayed on to dance to a fiddler who’d been summoned from the village.

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