Leila’s Legacy

by Madeline Martin

  She turned her mind from such lustful thoughts and instead told him of what she’d seen in the vision. She spoke of how Lord Armstrong had ordered the death of Niall’s father, how he had intended to supplant the former deputy with his son, and how they used the man Niall had ransomed to their benefit, to kill both Niall’s father as well as the old woman.

  When she was done, Niall staggered back in his newly donned dry clothes and sat down hard in the chair.

  “I tried to tell you sooner,” Leila said.

  Niall stared blankly into the flames. “There was no time.” His fingers curled around the wood arms of the chair. “I’ll kill the bastard.”

  He said it with such vehemence, a sliver of apprehension worked its way down Leila’s spine, and she had the sudden fear that she’d made a grave mistake in telling what she’d seen.

  22

  Niall’s anger wasn’t easily set aside, but he forced it from his mind. Leila needed him. Aye, she’d been saved and stood before him, breathing and glowing with the flush of life on her cheeks. But it didn’t mean she was safe, especially when she had just been brought back from the dead.

  Leila watched him with a concerned expression pinching her brows. “I shouldn’t have told you.” There was a slight strain to her voice that bespoke of a pain she did not complain of, and it tugged at his chest. “I have never learned exactly what I should and should not share of my visions.”

  “Nay, I needed to know.” He rose from the chair and took her hand in his. Her fingers were like ice.

  She gasped and touched his forearm with her free hand. The skin there was shredded with claw marks that gauged angry red wounds from where his shirt had not covered his wrists.

  “I’m sorry.” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

  A familiar knot formed in his throat. Being safe in a comfortable, quiet moment brought the horror of what had happened rushing back.

  “Ye were being killed, Leila.” His voice broke. “I was holding ye down and ye were fighting to live. Because that’s what ye do, lass. Ye’re a fighter. And I…” He looked away, ashamed of his tears. “I was killing ye.”

  Leila touched his chin and turned his face back to her. “You saved Bonnie. They would have killed me anyway. And yet you still managed to save me. You pulled me from the water and you…” She shook her head. “I don’t even know what you did, but you saved me. And now here I am, in a cottage with you.”

  He pulled her into his arms, reveling in the wonderful sweetness of her body against his.

  She reached for his face and cradled it in her cold palms as she pressed her lips to his. “I love you,” she whispered. Her mouth found his and her tongue teased between his lips.

  His body responded, immediately hot and hard to reclaim the woman he had thought he’d lost. “I love ye.” He pushed her gently away with a tight groan. “Which is why I’m going to tuck ye into that bed on yer own. Ye need to rest, aye?”

  He took her hand and led her to the pallet where he tucked her beneath the many layers of furs. “I’ll be outside tending to the horse if ye need me.”

  She nodded with a soft smile hovering on the corners of her lips. He’d never thought to see that expression again. He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her hair and breathed her in. The subtle hint of rosemary still clung to her hair despite what she’d been through.

  Once she was settled, he saw to his horse, placing the massive destrier in the small single stall attached to the side of the cottage. He removed the horse’s bridle and paused when the sleeve of his shirt fell back to reveal his gouged forearm.

  Tears prickled in his eyes again, recalling that awful moment. Leila had fought like a warrior, her hits powerful enough to have most likely left bruises on his shins and arms. It had taken a considerable amount of effort to keep her under water. To kill her.

  He scrubbed a palm over his face, but he couldn’t get the image out of his mind of her clawing at him, forced to such actions through the sheer will to survive. And he’d had to hold her down until that awful moment when the fight left her body. When he’d known she was dead.

  Lord Armstrong had made him do that. Lord Armstrong, who had used Niall’s adolescent misconduct to kill his da and then twist events to bring Niall to his side.

  He balled his hand into a fist, his pain and tears transforming into an emotion he could control: anger. One of rage and vengeance. With a snarl of intent, he slammed his hand into the wall of the stable. The destrier was bred for war and did little more than flick his ears back irritably at the audible smack of Niall’s fist connecting with the boards of the stall.

  Lord Armstrong would pay for his crimes with his own life.

  Leila was safe for now. That was all that mattered at the moment. Once Brodie and Bonnie arrived at the cottage, they would all venture to Werrick Castle where Niall hoped he could negotiate for the safekeeping of his friends.

  In truth, Niall wished he could take Leila now, but the trek would be too cold on her battered body. She needed the time to rest and warm up. Once she was at Werrick, tucked securely behind the stone curtain walls of her home, then Niall would exact his revenge.

  He willed his body to calm and lowered his aching hand. Vengeance would come later. Now was for finding supper and preparing a hot stew.

  It was hours later when the stew was ready. It contained a bit of rabbit mixed in with some vegetables that had been brought to the cottage, along with the bedding and tinder, by one of Lady Davina’s discreet servants.

  Niall had continued to add logs from the abundant pile to the fire, keeping it blazing until the cottage was hot enough to force him outside on occasion to cool off. He checked on Leila periodically as she slept, to ensure her chest still rose and fell with even breathing.

  It pleased him to find her cheeks and lips were a bonny shade of rosy pink, no doubt set there by the roaring fire. He gazed at her for a long moment before waking her for food, cherishing that she was alive and there with him . The firelight caught her glossy dark hair and glowed golden over her skin. She looked so peaceful, so lovely.

  He reached a hand out and caressed her cheek. She was warm under his touch and he thanked God for it.

  “Mo chridhe,” he said softly.

  She smiled and cupped his hand with hers, holding him to her.

  “Ye feel much better,” Niall said. “Are ye hungry?”

  Her eyes opened and found his. “Aye, I am. And I’m finally no longer cold. Thank you.”

  Her voice was stronger than it had been before she fell asleep, less strained. He was grateful Lady Davina had provided the cottage. He had been anxious about it before, thinking that stopping to rest through the day and night was a dangerous idea. Now he understood the wisdom of the offer, for Leila would never have survived the ride to Werrick Castle after he’d found her in the river.

  Niall served them both stew, and side-by-side, they ate it with some of the bread left for them at the small table. This was how Niall wanted it to be all their lives. The two of them together, side-by-side, in a home of their own. Mayhap with a bairn or two running about.

  “What are you thinking about?” Leila asked. “You’re smiling.”

  Niall lifted his shoulder noncommittally. “Ye.”

  She smiled in return. “You were thinking of me?”

  He nodded and winked at her. She laughed, that sweet, husky sound that made him want to pull her into his arms and kiss her, touch her, love her. Appreciate her, relish her.

  He had lost her that day.

  The recollection was as stark and painful as an unexpected blow. He reached out and pulled her chair toward his until she was nestled against him.

  “Ye’re a miracle I’ll no’ ever stop being grateful for.” He kissed the top of her head, then lifted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers.

  “I love you,” Leila whispered against his lips. She returned his kiss. Not just one, but several. And not only chaste kisses either, but ones filled with such sugges
tive promise that it made his loins stir.

  “Leila,” he groaned. “Ye need rest.”

  “I’ve rested.” Her voice was throaty with desire and like a physical caress that left his skin prickling with heightened sensitivity.

  He shifted away from her, despite the difficulty to do so. “Ye need to fully recover.” He would not hurt her or put her at risk. Not so soon after having her back and safe. But God, how he wanted to revel in having her here once more, to love every inch of her body in full appreciation.

  “My body feels very well recovered.” She slipped off her seat and straddled his lap. She put her arms around the back of his neck and rolled her hips with blatant sexuality. The heat of her center pressed to him, reminding him of every way he wanted to show her the gratitude he held for her being with him.

  “I know much about healing,” she whispered. “And I assure you, I’m quite well.”

  “Are ye certain, lass?” he groaned. His hips flexed upward of their own volition, pushing against her.

  Her lashes fluttered. “Very,” she breathed.

  He kissed her then, with the full force of his passion, slanting over her mouth to stroke her tongue with his. His hands eased up the skirt of her kirtle, skimming over silky smooth, blissfully warm skin.

  She was alive. With him. And he would not waste even a single precious moment.

  Where Leila had been cold before, she was now blazing with heat. Not only from the steady fire flickering in the hearth, but the one burning within, the one desperate for the connection with Niall.

  She had not seen beyond the vision of being drowned and knew not what was ahead of them. All she knew was that she wanted to savor these moments with him before they ran out.

  Death, after all, was a rapacious beast that was not easily cheated out of his winnings.

  She tugged at Niall’s shirt, desperate to have it off, to have his bare flesh under her fingertips for exploration. He drew the shirt off and worked at the back of her gown, even as he kissed her hungrily. His arousal strained at her center, making her pulse throb with longing.

  Her hips arched against him in a show of mock intimacy while he unthreaded the back of her kirtle and nudged it down to reveal her breasts. He broke off their kiss to regard her and growled his approval. It was a guttural, primitive sound that heightened her own desire.

  He bent forward and pulled one nipple into his mouth, flicking and dancing across the little nub with his tongue until Leila was crying out. It wasn’t enough. She needed him. All of him.

  With shaking hands, she pulled at the ties of his trews. His prick sprang free, hard and as eager for their joining as she. She grabbed it at the root, positioned her hips and sank down on him.

  He hissed out a breath of surprise. He was full and hot inside her. She rocked against him, rolling her hips against his. The movements were too subtle though, not nearly firm enough to get the friction she wanted. Needed.

  Niall skimmed his hands up her naked legs and grasped her bottom in both hands. He guided her with strong palms, showing her how to stroke herself with him. She gripped his shoulders, holding tight to him, this man who impossibly had found a way to save her and bring them together once more. This man she loved.

  He thrust up inside of her as her hips shifted back and forth against him, teasing the little bud at the top of her sex. Their panting breaths filled the cabin amid the moans and grunts as their bodies strained to be closer, to create more wonderful friction hum between them.

  Leila’s muscles tensed with the warning of her impending release. Niall growled and increased his speed, rubbing that place between her legs that made her unwind. She clutched him and let herself fall over the edge of pleasure, crying out as the waves and waves of bliss crashed over her.

  Niall drove deep into her and held her against him with a powerful groan. All at once, they sagged into the chair together, clutching each other and staring into each other’s eyes.

  “I canna believe ye’re here with me.” Niall swept a length of hair from her face. “I thought I’d no’ ever see ye again and yet here ye are, taking me on a chair in the middle of a cottage buried in the woods.”

  “Good thing ‘tis a strong chair,” Leila teased.

  Niall’s brows lifted. “Aye, ‘tis. We should move to the bed though.” He shifted his back and gave an exaggerated grimace that made her laugh.

  Leila eased off of him. “But I’m not tired anymore.”

  Niall stood and stepped out of his trews. “Me neither, lass.” He grinned and brushed his hand down her shoulder, nudging her kirtle to the floor. His mouth whispered over where his hands had been.

  “I think Death got what he wanted, mo chridhe,” Niall murmured against her skin.

  A little chill trickled down Leila’s spine. “Why do you say that?”

  “Yer shoulder.” He leaned back and ran his thumb over the spot where Death had left his mark. “The spots are gone.”

  Leila arched her shoulder forward and glanced down at it in disbelief. Niall was correct. Death’s mark was gone. She ran her fingers over the area and found only warm, smooth flesh.

  Had she been released then? Or would he be coming to find her still?

  Mayhap she would dream of it that night, for it was evening when she had most of her visions. Most nights went by with at least one vision in her sleep. They were not always large or impactful, but they were there, nonetheless.

  She frowned slightly.

  “What is it?” Niall asked.

  “I didn’t see anything when I slept earlier.”

  “No visions?”

  She nodded.

  “Does that displease ye?” he asked.

  His question took her aback. Did it displease her? She’d spent a lifetime despising her visions, hating the terror they infused her with, the cryptic delivery, and how different it made her from her sisters.

  And yet, it’d been part of her entire life, as much a piece of her as her hands or her heart.

  “I’m not certain,” Leila said quietly.

  “Mayhap it was simply because of how tired ye were,” Niall suggested. “What ye’d been through.”

  “Mayhap.” Leila nodded. But there was a strange hollowness inside her that said otherwise.

  “We’d best get ye to bed then, so ye can see.” The corner of Niall’s lip lifted in a slow, sensual grin. “Ye’ll need yer rest.”

  “Will I?” Her grin matched his.

  “Aye, Brodie and his sister, Bonnie, will arrive on the morrow.” He led her to the bed and pulled her under the covers with him. She lay on her back, looking up at him as he braced himself on his elbow and traced the line of her jaw with his fingertip. She closed her eyes against the sweet sensation of his touch gliding over her.

  “Then we will all travel to Werrick Castle,” he said.

  Her eyes flew open. “Werrick,” she whispered.

  Niall winked. “Ye’re going home.”

  “My father…”

  “We’ve no’ heard anything.” His hazel eyes crinkled with sincerity. “I think if there’d been bad news, we’d have heard it by now.”

  Leila nodded in agreement. No doubt Alban would have waved it in her face like a banner if word carried of Lord Werrick’s death. Niall was right; hearing nothing was for the best.

  Home.

  She would be home soon. To see her father and her family and her friends, to return to the life she had before… She looked up at Niall. Where would he fit in with her world?

  “Yer da may no’ forgive me for imprisoning ye.” Niall lifted a shoulder apologetically, as if reading her thoughts.

  “You saved my life,” Leila protested.

  Worry creased his brow. “What I’ve done is unforgivable, Leila.”

  She chuckled. “You haven’t met my brothers-in-law.” The thought of her family made tears prickle in her eyes. The family she had thought never to see again.

  “What is it, lass?” Niall brushed a tear from her cheek.
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br />   “I fear sleeping and what visions it may bring.” She sniffed. “I’ve never seen past this moment of my life and everything right now is so perfect, I dread seeing what else might come our way. And I also dread not seeing anything at all.” She gave a mirthless smile at her own indecisiveness.

  “Then mayhap we shall have to keep ye from sleeping.” His hand ran up the side of her waist and brushed against her breast.

  Desire heated between her legs with a needy thrum. She sighed in her eagerness and shifted her body closer to him. Already, his longing was becoming apparent and hard against her thigh.

  And while they did eventually fall into an exhausted slumber together, their shared passion was enough to prevent Leila from fearing the future. Especially when, for the first time in her life, she had no idea what it might bring.

  23

  The sun painted the room to a cheery golden yellow the following morn. Leila curled deeper into the comfortable bed and the man snuggled up beside her. A contented smile touched her lips. She had slept through the night without waking once. For the first time in her entire life. Or at least as long as she could remember.

  Her mind was clear with having been thoroughly rested. She stiffened with awareness. There had not been any visions. Again.

  Niall immediately sat up in bed, his body tense as he braced himself in front of her. “Did ye hear something?”

  Leila shook her head. “Nay.”

  Niall did not relax but turned to regard her. “What is it?”

  His reaction broke through the calm of her thoughts, a reminder they were still in danger until they reached Werrick Castle.

  “The sun,” Leila replied. “And then the realization that I didn’t have a vision. Again.”

  “Are ye all right, lass?” He asked.

  Leila chewed her bottom lip, unsure how to answer. Unsure how she even felt.

  “We should dress,” Leila replied.

  Niall studied her for a moment, as if he planned to press the topic she’d purposefully navigated around. In the end, he rose from the bed, naked and beautiful in the light of day, and proceeded to wash up from water in the ewer.