Page 29 of Claimed by the Clan Chief

At least that’s what he hoped.

“Damn, you’ve got me right here.” He banged his chest and stepped away from the bed. He walked rigidly to the basin and splashed cold water onto his face. It did nothing to dampen his crazed state.

He dried and began to undress, his cock sticking rudely up as if demanding attention. McTavish didn’t want to take himself in hand again. He’d wait until he could have the real thing… Isla.

Lying on his back on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling. The sounds of the festivities were a dull background noise and he let them float through his mind as he started to plan.

In his sporran he had his grandmother’s ring. It was a gold band set with a small ruby and had been passed down through several generations. Never before had he considered giving it to a lass to wear despite having carried it around for years.

But now he’d met Isla everything had changed. Almost in a heartbeat he’d gone from a single soul to one who needed another to even breathe—or at least that’s what it felt like.

He thought of her smile, the swell of her breasts, the curves of her waist and hips.

His cock twitched.

“Be still,” he muttered then licked his lips.

Her flavour lingered there. Musky and feminine, tinged with a little rose water. How he longed to have his face buried between her legs again. He could stay there all damn night feeling her squirm with pleasure and listening to her gasps of delight.

He’d felt her hymen and known she’d been telling the truth. He also believed he’d broken through it at the moment she’d climaxed, making it a painless process for her and paving the way for their first time together.

“Which has to happen soon.” He frowned at his engorged cock. The tip was shiny and his balls ached so much he could almost have believed he’d taken a swift kick to them.

Groaning, he sat and spotted the sage poultice on the bedside table. He reached for it, the familiar scent filling his nose. It reminded him of home and of his mother, but that thought was fleeting. His mind was as full as his heart of Isla. The beautiful, fascinating, healing woman who slept somewhere close, but not close enough.

“Tomorrow,” he said, applying the poultice to the stubborn wound on his shoulder. “Tomorrow I will make her mine, officially. We’ll never have to worry about being apart again.” He sighed and lay back down. “And there’ll be no more maid duties for my love. She is worth more than that.”

Chapter Eight

The next morning Isla woke early despite it being her day off. She had a plan to walk to her aunt’s house as she sometimes did. Her aunt didn’t have much money so a few of Isla’s spare coins would be gratefully received. As would some woodland herbs and plants Isla could collect on the way.

Isla stretched then sat. There was a sudden rapping on the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Una.”

“Come in.” Isla stood and reached for a shawl.

The door opened, bringing with it a cool draught. Una stepped in, then quickly shut it. She turned to Isla.

Isla gasped. “What happened?”

Una sat on the bed. A sob bubbled up and caught in her throat as she hung her head.

“Una?” Isla sat next to her. She placed her hand on Una’s shoulder and ducked to look at her face.

Una’s eyes were black, her left cheek swollen and her bottom lip split. She was shaking, her hands trembling and her breaths shallow and stuttered.

“Tell me what happened?” Isla said again.

Still nothing.

“Did you go home last night?”

Una nodded.

“You saw Rabbie?”

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