Page 43 of Claimed by the Clan Chief

Isla was in the hallway now, the familiar surroundings passing her by in a blur as Rabbie and the other men forcibly dragged her from the castle.

When sunlight hit her eyes a fresh wave of terror gripped her. They had a carriage, one with metal bars lining it so it resembled a cage. Where in Mother Nature’s name were they going to take her?

She was bundled into it; the harsh base scratched her knees and elbows and the rough handling jarred her back.

Mrs. Humphrey was rushing down the steps, her plump body going as fast as she could make it and her breasts jiggling.

“Please,” Isla called. “Get word to my husband. As soon as possible.”

“Aye, lass.” Mrs. Humphrey looked around at the jeering crowd who were now delighted they’d captured their witch. “I’ll do that.”

“Make haste,” Isla called.

“Aye, I promise.”

“Who would marry this woman of Satan?” Rabbie shouted. “There is no husband. Another lie.”

“Aye, there is a husband.” Isla gripped the bars on the cage she’d been placed in. “And he will have your head off for this, you’ll burn in hell for all of time with ravens pecking at your eyes and flames licking at your feet. I’ll see to that.” She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “Shadows of darkness, spirits within, harness the energy of the moon and all it sees.” She paused. “By the black power of the crow, the dead feather and smoke which flies. Beware of the night. Prepare to see the other side.”

“See, proof that she is a witch,” Rabbie shouted. “You all heard that. She cursed me, again. If I die you’ll ken she was the cause.”

“Burn her!” someone yelled.

“Aye, burn her.”

A chant was set up as the carriage left the courtyard.

Isla shook with dread. The sudden change in her day had left her dizzy and terrified. This couldn’t be happening.

It is!

As they crossed the drawbridge she berated herself for ever making the ill wish. She’d been foolish to help Una. She’d never really been a friend. There’d always been slyness about her. She tolerated Isla, nothing more. That was proven when she’d given her up to her husband so easily.

Isla was jostled this way and that as the carriage headed toward the village. All she could do was hope Mrs. Humphrey had managed to persuade one of the stable hands to go after McTavish. But he had nearly a full day’s ride under his belt. It wouldn’t be easy to make up such distance even on one of the laird’s fastest horses.

To Isla’s horror when they arrived at the village an even bigger crowd had formed. Faces stared in at her, some with scared eyes as though she could kill them with a glance, others with excitement and clearly looking forward to the spectacle to come.

“Let me be,” she said, tears flowing down her cheeks. “I beg you. I’m just an ordinary lass.”

“An ordinary lass who curses good men.” A wrinkled old man stepped forward and spat at her.

“Oh!” Isla scuttled backward and brushed the blob of saliva from her bodice.

Another man spat, then a woman.

She hid her face in her hands. Sobs racked her chest. She’d been so foolish. Added to it by cursing Rabbie again for all to hear. And now she’d pay for it with her life.

“Get out.” Rough hands grabbed her. It was Rabbie. “You’ll be tried tomorrow.”

“Tried?” She stumbled as she was dragged from the carriage. “On what grounds?”

“Witchcraft.” He yanked her forward and the crowd parted.

“I tell ye, I’m nay a witch. This is all wrong. It’s naught but a silly few sticks and feathers and mumbled words. Means not a thing to anyone.”

“Save your lies for morrow. And until then you’ll stay in here.”

Before her was a barred iron door. It was set in a mound of earth. “No, please.” The damp darkness scared her as did the thought of the roof falling in and crushing her. “I beg you.”

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