Page 67 of Claimed by the Clan Chief

“Beneath the books on the mantel, in a small box. I have a single hair wrapped around it, I’d ken if it were disturbed.”

McTavish glanced at the mantel. A frown creased his brow.

“I thought it might be of use, for the cause.”

“Aye.” He pressed his lips together. “I understand your trail of thinking, but it’s still not enough to excuse your disobedience.”

“Perhaps the Duke of Cambridge could—”

“He is not a friend, and aye, I’d happily drop a wee splash into his dram, but that won’t happen now. His true colours have been shown.”

“I’m sorry about that.” And she truly was. Her husband had been hoping to gain support from the duke.

“That’s not of my concern right now.” He turned and walked to the corner of the room. He picked up a piece of furniture Isla both loathed and loved.

It was a bench, the legs the exact length of hers. Sturdy and made of solid oak, the top was padded and covered in leather.

He set it before the fire then stood back with his arms crossed. “Over you go.”

A tremble caught in her belly. She could have kept it to herself about the nightshade but he would have found out eventually and then her punishment would have been even more severe.

“I’m sorry,” she said, biting on her bottom lip.

“I ken you are but you still did it.” He nodded at the bench. “And as I said, over you go.”

Her legs were a little shaky as she stepped up to it. She bent double with her breasts pressing on the cool leather and her knees butting up against the hard legs. The heat of the fire continued to lick over her skin as a shiver of anticipation travelled down her back and over her buttocks.

After a trip to the clothing cupboard he was behind her.

Did he get something?

Isla didn’t ken, she could only see the heavily draped window and the hills and trees beyond.

“Such a pretty ass,” he said, smoothing his palm over her buttocks. “Almost a shame to have to punish it, but it’s your own doing.”

Isla pressed her lips together as her pussy dampened. Being naked and bent over for him always got her aroused, even if a spanking was on the way.

“But punished it must be. Twenty strikes with the cane.”

The cane!

“Oh, please, no, not that.” The cane was mean and sharp and left sore lines for days.

“Aye, that. You brought poison into this house. I will not have such dangerous potions here.” He ran his fingers over her asshole and to her pussy. “And you would do well to remember that.”

She widened her legs, hoping he’d find her entrance and push in.

He didn’t.

“And it would have been forty strikes if you hadn’t told me so soon after my arrival home.”

“Aye, sir, I ken that.”

He lifted his touch and the hard line of the cane crossed gently over both her buttocks.

“You should brace yourself,” he said.

Isla held her breath and gripped the bench.

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