Page 42 of Claimed by the Clan Chief

Mrs. Humphrey quickly moved in front of her. “What is the meaning of this? Get out of my kitchen at once, ye heathen.”

Five other men and three woman marched in behind Rabbie.

“All of ye.” Mrs. Humphrey picked up a wooden spoon and shook it at the crowd. “How did you get past the guards?”

“The guards also want to ken why ye are protecting a witch?” Rabbie snarled.

“Och, don’t talk rubbish. There’s nay witches here at Fifths Castle.”

“There’s a witch in this very room,” one of the women screeched and pointed at Isla. “Right there.”

“Aye,” another man said, gritting his teeth and lunging forward. “There she is.”

Isla stepped backward until her shoulders hit the cold stonewall. Fear gripped her and she looked about, searching for an escape route. There was none.

“Get her!” Rabbie shouted and waved the ill wish high in the air.

Una suddenly rushed in, holding up her skirts. She looked around the kitchen as if taking in the situation then her gaze settled on Isla for the briefest of moments.

In that split second Isla saw the betrayal in the other maid’s eyes. It was the slight narrowing then the quick look away that told the story of treachery.

“What is the meaning of this?” Mrs. Humphrey demanded. “Tell me now so I ken what you’re all saying.”

“You ken full well you harbour a witch,” Rabbie said. “Una has told me enough over the years to ken this is the case.” Once again he shook the ill wish, so hard this time that several stalks of parsley and a feather fluttered to the kitchen floor.

“What yarns has Una told ye?” Mrs. Humphrey glanced over her shoulder at Isla then turned back to Rabbie. “Because that’s what they’ll be I tell you. Yarns from a maid with an overactive imagination.”

“Potions and spells, chanting and cats,” Rabbie sneered, spittle catching in the corners of his mouth.

“Poppycock, that’s all made up.” Mrs. Humphrey huffed.

“And her imagination made this, did it?” Rabbie suddenly flung the ill wish toward Mrs. Humphrey. She ducked to the side to avoid it hitting her head. “Och, see, you dunny want to touch it either. You’re not that brave and you’re not convinced she isn’t a witch.” He stepped forward, rounding Mrs. Humphrey and closing in on Isla. His cronies were right behind him.

“No, please.” Isla scooted to the left. “You’ve made a mistake. Please, leave me be.” Panic surged through her veins. The look in Rabbie’s eyes was satanic. He wanted blood and death—her blood, her death.

“Leave you be? So you can make more ill wishes and curse us,” one of the villagers said, her nose wrinkling as she showed a mouth missing several teeth.

“I didn’t make that ill wish.” Isla pointed at it on the floor. “I swear I didn’t.”

“Your lying words mean nothing, witch,” Rabbie said, gripping her wrist.

“Please, get off me.”

McTavish. Oh, if only he was here.

She tried to yank herself free but with no luck. Rabbie was strong and dragged her forward. Another man shackled his hand around her opposite arm and helped pull her toward the doorway. Despite twisting this way and that and digging in her heels, Isla couldn’t escape.

“Denying that ye made the ill wish is futile,” Rabbie said as they drew level with Una.

Again Isla looked at Una, hardly surprised now when she turned away and looked at the floor.

“I found it,” Rabbie went on, “and my good for nothing wife was quick to offer up the information of where it had been sourced.” He laughed but the sound held no humour. “It was that or get another black eye and broken nose for her disobedience. I guess she figured your life was worth less than her discomfort.”

“No, no, I beg you. This is a mistake,” Isla cried.

“Bring her back. The laird will hear of this,” Mrs. Humphrey yelled. “And you will all pay with a thrashing.”

“Nay, old woman. He will reward us for ridding this she-devil from his property, you mark my word.”

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