Claimed by the Clan Chief by Lily Harlem – Extended Preview

His white handkerchief slipped from her pocket and fluttered to the floor. It lay there, a little crumpled, the embroidered TT face up.

Oh, Fairy Queen, help me now.

She gulped.

He stared at it for a moment then picked it up and ran his fingertips over the stitching.

“I’m sorry, I…” She reached for it. She didn’t ken why. Shoving it back into her pocket wouldn’t take away the fact he’d seen it. That he now ken she’d taken it.

“No.” He circled his big fingers around her wrist. “You will explain yourself.”

“It’s nothing. I found it, yesterday, it was in need of laundering, that’s all. And now it’s clean.”

“It was freshly laundered and sitting in my room. I ken that for it is the only one I have and I had meant to take it to dinner the night before.”

Isla was aware of the colour draining from her cheeks. Her knees were weak and her heart pounding. She’d done wrong by taking his handkerchief, she ken that only too well.

“So explain yourself.” He tipped his head and held up the handkerchief. It unfolded and hung between them. “What were you doing with it?”

I can’t tell him. I can’t.

“I suggest you start talking. I have a wedding to attend.” He frowned.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“Can’t talk? We both ken that’s not the case.” He glanced at the window where a large oak desk sat, then returned his attention to her.

“Please. I should go.”

“Not until I find out why you stole from me.”

“I didn’t steal from you. I promise. I was putting it back.”

“But why did you take it in the first place?”

His eyes flashed; she wondered if she saw excitement in them, anticipation too.

What does he have planned for me?

“I really can’t tell you, sir.”

For if I do I could face a terrible fate if he so chooses.

“You’re being a brat, and disobedient and awkward on purpose. Do you think that’s befitting of a servant of the laird?”

“No.” She shook her head and looked down at her feet.

“Go over there.” He nodded at the table and released her wrist. “And face the window.”

A tremble caught in her belly. Her feet felt rooted to the floor.

“Now!”

“Yes, sir.” She hurried to the table, her belly tight and her pulse thudding in her ears. The material of her dress scratched against her smarting ass cheeks.

She stared out of the window, but didn’t see anything in the courtyard. Instead she studied his reflection as he put on his kilt and sporran. He then added his shirt, tunic, and plaid before sitting and lacing up his boots.

The anticipation was almost as agonizing as the slaps he’d delivered.

When he was fully dressed he came to stand at her side.

She dared to look at him and despite her nervousness she admired his handsome face and the way his clothes hung on his tall, strong body.

“This,” he said, setting the handkerchief on the table before her, “has just earned you twenty strikes. It should be more, but I have only a wee bit of time right now.”

“Strikes?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, lass. Bend over.” He nodded at the table.

She tightened her buttocks and her pussy contracted. Setting her hands on the cool wooden surface, she bent forward.

“Here.” He held a thick wooden peg in front of her face. “Bite on this. I don’t wish for you to cry out; if you do, later, when I have more time, I will deliver another twenty strikes.”

She opened her dry mouth and he set the hard peg between her teeth. She bit down on it, her teeth seeming to sink into the wood.

“And keep still,” he said, moving to her side and once again pulling up her skirts.

They settled over her back as her buttocks were exposed. A quiver went through her pussy and over her skin.

This is going to be so much worse than the last two strikes.

She closed her eyes and locked her knees together. Part of her wished she’d never taken the handkerchief but she’d had no choice, she’d needed something of his for the spell.

Shall I run, get away?

The thought was so brief it was barely there. She couldn’t avoid her punishment. McTavish was determined about it and even more than that, she’d earned it.

“Legs apart,” he said, his voice firm. He touched her ankles with his boot.

She did as instructed and instantly a flame of heat raged over her right buttock. He’d spanked her with gusto, his palm seeming to burn against her skin.

A shocked cry caught in her throat and rattled around the peg.

“This is your one and only reminder to keep quiet.”

She clenched her fists and curled her toes. Her pussy was damp and every muscle tense.

Another slap struck her ass, the opposite buttock this time.

She danced onto her toes and shifted her hips from left to right.

“Keep still, Isla. It’s clear you need to be taken in hand by a strong man, this is bad behaviour.”

The word sorry was on her lips but couldn’t come out.

The spanking continued. She had no idea how many slaps rained down, they all blurred into one.

She did her best to remain motionless but it was hard as the pain grew.

Tears formed in her eyes and over-spilled. The shame of taking a spanking from the laird’s important guest was almost too much to bear. What would her employer say if he found out about this?

“You’re halfway there,” McTavish said, smoothing his palms over her fire-hot ass cheeks. “And I hope you’re learning that not only must you not steal, you mustn’t refuse to tell me something I wish to ken.”

She couldn’t answer, and instead stared at the TT on the handkerchief laid out in front of her.

He resumed the punishment with swift, hard spanks alternating between her buttocks.

The tears fell, she whimpered and created deep impressions of her teeth on the peg.

“In the future,” he said.

Slap.

“You will…”

Slap.

“Obey me when I ask something of you.”

Slap.

A sob caught in her throat. She knew they had a future—she’d cast the spell. And now she knew McTavish was a man she’d naught be able to trick. He was too canny. Which was of course one of the very things that had attracted her to him.

Finally the spanking came to an end.

He flicked her dress over her ass and the hem swished against her ankles.

“You may stand.”

She did as he’d asked though struggled to find even a scrap of dignity. She was breathing fast, her butt hurt so much, and tears were slipping down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” He removed the peg and tossed it onto the table.

“Because… because I disappointed you, sir.”

“Aye, you did. And one day, Isla Dunoon, you will tell me why you took that handkerchief.”

She didn’t reply.

He set his hands on her shoulders. “I need you on your knees, eyes closed.”

“I beg your pardon, sir.”

“Shall I spank you again? I ken full well you heard that instruction.”

“Yes, sir. I mean no, sir.” Quickly she folded to her knees.

Damn and blast, my ass hurts so bad.

She hovered above her heels so her poor abused butt didn’t touch anything. She closed her eyes.

“And don’t open them,” he said. “There will be consequences.”

Trapped in a dark world, Isla could only hear.

A rustle of clothing.

The friction of flesh on flesh.

Rapid breathing.

“Oh, God…” he moaned.

What is he doing?

“Keep still, just there, open your mouth… tongue out.”

The sounds increased. He was almost panting, moaning too. And the noise just in front of her; rapid movements that shifted the air slightly.

She longed to open her eyes, to see what he was doing.

Is he working his cock?

She guessed he was, but she didn’t dare look, much as she wanted to. Her ass couldn’t take any more.

“That’s it, further… tongue… out… more.” There was excitement in his tone, as if he were breathless too.

She tried to taste what was happening, and then something thick and warm landed on her tongue.

“That’s it. Argh… Keep your eyes… closed.”

Squeezing her eyelids tighter together, she was aware of more salty liquid coating her tongue. It spread on her lips too, and her chin.

“Aye, that’s it, lass. So pretty.”

The movements in front of her stopped. She clasped her hands in her lap and kept her tongue out. It was hard, she wanted to draw it in and coat her mouth with what he’d given her.

“Good,” he said, cupping her cheeks in his palms. “Now you can taste me. Pull in your tongue. But keep your eyes closed.”

She did as he’d asked and tangy fluid coated her palate. It was his seed, she ken it was. She might be a virgin but she wasn’t naïve.

“That was much better,” he said. “You obeyed me well.”

She sensed him standing and there was more rustling of clothing.

“Stand and open your eyes,” he ordered.

Isla did both.

McTavish stood before her, his clothing neat and ordered but with a slight rise of colour on his cheeks.

“Here.” He handed her the handkerchief. “You need to wipe your face.”

“Thank you.” She dabbed at the stickiness.

“I may have relieved some of my desire for you,” he said, taking her hand. “But if you’re wondering if my cock will be hard again soon, thinking of you without panties and a delightfully rosy ass, the answer is aye, it will be.”

“I wasn’t wondering that.”

“I think you were.” He brought her knuckles to his mouth and set a lingering kiss there. “And I think that’s what you wanted, what you planned when you took something of mine. You wanted more time with me. What you hadn’t bargained on with your wee plan was that a spanking would be involved.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. It was almost as if he knew she’d cast a spell on him. A love spell.

“I should make haste.” He straightened and released her. “The laird will not be happy if I make a late entrance to his nephew’s wedding.”

She swallowed and nodded. “Aye, you should.”

“And you must too, for Mrs. Humphrey will tan your hide some more if you are absent much longer.” He paused. “And I’m sure your ass has taken enough for one day.”

“Aye, sir, it has.”

“Go on then. Be quick.”

Isla rushed from the room. Her buttocks were on fire, her heart swollen with emotions she’d never experienced before, and her breaths were coming in short, sharp snatches. The salty taste of McTavish lingered in her mouth.

Deep in the forest she’d performed a spell in alliance with Mother Nature to snare Trevor McTavish and she still wanted him. But what the hell had she let herself in for? He was a Highlander who demanded obedience from not just his men, but also his women. And if he didn’t get it, his hands were skilled at delivering discipline.

The moment Isla entered the kitchen instructions were barked her way.

“Get this out to the feasting table, Isla.”

“Why are the damn cats under my feet? Isla, get them out of here, now.”

“Isla, where have you been?” Una scowled at her. “Have you been crying?”

“No, of course not. And I’ve been tending the laird’s guest as you told me to.” Isla swiped at her hot cheeks and reached for a plate of spiced boiled cabbage. “You said you’d had enough of running up and down the stairs with water, remember.”

“Aye, but I would have done it myself if I’d ken you’d take so long.”

Isla ignored her and left the room with the cabbage. The material of her dress abraded her ass cheeks and her thighs slicked together. Despite her undignified punishment happiness wound around her heart and filled her chest. It was like a bubble growing, expanding, and searing through her veins.

‘I may have relieved some of my desire for you. But if you’re wondering if my cock will be hard again soon, thinking of you without panties and a delightfully rosy ass, the answer is aye, it will be.’

The spell had worked, she was sure of it. He spoke of desire for her, and his cock getting hard at the thought of her. Aye, she’d admit the fairies had meddled and it hadn’t gone completely to plan, but he wanted her. Of that she was certain.

So, even Una’s sour tones couldn’t dull Isla’s mood. She was a woman in love and every moment that went past convinced her the man of her dreams was falling for her too.