Page 25 of Claimed by the Clan Chief

“Prying?”

“Listening to the activities behind that there door.”

“No, I was passing. I put a poultice in your bedroom, for your shoulder.”

“I thank you for that.”

He stepped closer, then his attention moved from her face to the closed door.

Isla could still hear the slapping sounds along with the deep rumble of male voices and high-pitched gasps.

“Ahh.” McTavish nodded. “It’s what I thought.”

“What you thought?”

He returned his attention to Isla and cupped her cheeks in both of his hands as he seemed fond of doing.

Not that she was complaining. She adored his touch and his warm palms against her skin. She stared up into his eyes enjoying the fact they didn’t scare her anymore. They were eyes that belonged to a person she was learning to understand.

“Aye, I had a feeling both those men were in love with Lady McDonald.”

“You did?”

“I’m sure you thought the same. You’re a lass with a canny way about you.”

“I won’t deny I was suspicious.” They were so close her breasts were touching the plaid of his kilt, which rested over his tunic.

“And what do you think they’re doing now?” he asked, his voice a soft whisper but holding so much meaning.

She hesitated. “I think there’s some trouble about her straying too far from the castle yesterday.”

“Aye, there is indeed. She risked herself considerably. No man who has had his heart stolen by a woman will tolerate that kind of recklessness.”

“So what do you think is happening?”

“Well, if she were my wife I’d be teaching her a lesson.” McTavish licked his lips, leaving behind a soft sheen.

“And how would you do that?”

“You already ken the answer to that question, Isla.” He smiled, a soft roguish tug of his lips that made him all the sexier. “But I’ll spell it out for you so you have no doubts in that pretty head of yours. A wife of mine would be over my knee. Her bare ass ready to be made so red she couldn’t sit down for a week.”

Isla’s still smarting ass tingled at the thought of being tipped over McTavish’s knee and taking a spanking. It would feel so much more personal than the table… wouldn’t it?

“Though I think,” McTavish glanced at the door again, “the two men in Lady McDonald’s life have chosen something other than their palms to show their displeasure.”

“What do you mean?”

“That is not the sound of flesh on flesh.” He lowered his head. “You ken that sound, you heard it earlier.”

She continued to stare up at him but didn’t answer.

“Have you thought of me today?” he asked, his lips almost touching hers.

“Every minute.”

“And I you. I cannot get you out of my thoughts.” He kissed her. A gentle press of his lips then a stroke of his tongue.

She clutched his tunic, tightening the material in her fists.

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