Page 49 of Claimed by the Clan Chief

“That shouldn’t have mattered.” McTavish slipped from the horse and landed on the cobbles with a thud. “No one here should have watched a woman dragged to her death by a crazed group of heathen villagers. We are a better country than that. We should care for one another.”

“Aye, sir, sorry, sir.” The stable hand lowered his head.

McTavish muttered something below his breath and reached for Isla. Carefully he helped her from the horse then kept his arm firmly about her waist.

“I was so frightened for ye, lass.” Mrs. Humphrey took Isla’s hand. “I sent word to your husband straight away.”

“I thank you.” Isla smiled at the kindly face she’d feared she’d never set eyes upon again.

“Aye, thank you.” McTavish rested his hand on Mrs. Humphrey’s shoulder. “You are a friend indeed.”

“Talking of friends, where is Una?” Isla asked.

“Una.” Mrs. Humphrey huffed. “She is gone to offer her services at Beacon Bridge yonder. I told the laird I couldn’t have a woman working for me who was so quick to send another to her death.”

“Aye, that is what happened.” Lord Stewart McDonald walked up to them dressed in his kilt, plaid, and with his clan badge glinting in the sunshine. “I need to be able to trust my staff on all accounts.” He smiled at Isla. “I’m sorry to say I wasn’t here yesterday otherwise I would have fought your corner and not allowed these people over the drawbridge. My guards have been reprimanded for allowing them in just because they were local villagers.”

“Aye, sir, I ken you would have helped me.” She smiled at him, then, “I’m nay a witch.”

“I understand, lass. But when you have a way with healing potions some folk get the wrong idea.” He nodded at McTavish. “Which is why it’s good to have a Highland warrior for a husband. I ken he’ll get you out of future tight spots.”

“There will be no future tight spots,” McTavish said firmly. “I will make sure of that.” He squeezed her a little closer. “And my wife is no longer a maid here, she is Lady McTavish of Caerlaverock.”

“Of course, and let me pass on my congratulations on your wedding. I’m sorry I didn’t attend,” the laird said. “A most joyous union.”

He smiled broadly and Isla saw the genuine pleasure in his eyes. He was a good man, one she’d never minded working dawn till dusk for. Not that she was complaining those days were over, she wasn’t. Being at McTavish’s side as his wife, and hopefully mother to his children was where she wanted to be.

“It was but a small private affair,” McTavish said. “And now, if it’s not too much trouble, Laird McDonald, I’d like to bother you again for use of your guest chamber.”

“My home is yours. Your work for the rebellion is a difficult one, I wish to do everything in my power to ease the burden.”

“And the burden is great.” McTavish paused. “As you ken I was hoping to meet with the duke myself in Edinburgh, but I’ve had to leave that task with my most trusted men.”

“And do you think he will be of use?” The laird clasped his hands together.

“It’s hard to say at this stage. He will either move our cause along greatly, or he will be acting for his own gain.”

“An Englishman with power and sympathy would be a great ally indeed.”

“Which is why I’m pursuing a meeting with him. Only an idiot would dismiss the possibility of a Jacobite duke.”

“And you are no idiot, McTavish, we all ken that.” The laird gestured to the tall walls of the castle surrounding them. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Aye, some bathing water; my wife smells of damp earth and has clumps of mud in her hair.”

* * *

Isla sat in McTavish’s guest chamber wrapped in a soft red tartan blanket and eating bread coated in a thick layer of salted butter.

Diane was filling the tin tub before a raging fire.

“Will this help your aches?” McTavish held up a small bottle of lavender oil.

“Aye, it will.”

He tipped the entire contents into the warm water and the room was instantly filled with powdery scent.

“Nearly done, sir,” Diane said, tipping in another pail of warm water.

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