Leila’s Legacy

by Madeline Martin

  He leaned over her on the bed and ran his hands along the sides of her thighs and hips. She arched up toward him as he lay his body over hers. Though her limbs were lean, there was still a womanly softness in the roundness of her breasts and hips. He kissed her with the force of his love, and she met his passion with eagerness.

  Her tongue swept against his, and she parted her thighs, cradling him. He found her with his hand first, stroking her and gently stretching her to better accommodate him. She gave a frustrated whimper and pressed against his hand.

  He shifted so their pelvises were directly against one another, and his weight was braced over her with his left arm. His heartbeat thrummed erratically in his chest. He removed his hand from between them and used it to guide his cock to the warm heat of her entrance. Excitement and anticipation quivered low in his belly. He wanted this, needed this. Needed her.

  Leila’s full lips parted, and she gave another frustrated whimper.

  He guided himself carefully into her, just a bit at first. The grip around him was a tease, encouraging him to plunge himself fully into her sheath, to let it wrap and squeeze around him. His muscles shook with the force of his control. He paused at the delicate barrier within her.

  He’d never been with a virgin. He’d never wanted one. But he knew what he had to do, and he knew it would cause a pain within Leila. His heart caught, but she nodded, her chin set with defiance.

  His brave, beautiful Leila.

  He released his hold on his cock and slid his hand over hers, letting their fingers interlock against one another as he nudged past her maidenhead. She blinked in surprise and the muscles of her neck tensed.

  “Forgive me, mo chridhe.” He nuzzled her lips with his own and flexed his pelvis forward, going slightly deeper.

  Her brow flinched and she lifted her hips to meet him. He opened his mouth to tell her what she did was not necessary, but she kissed him hungrily and drew him toward her with her arms.

  He eased out of her slightly before easing back in, his movements slow and careful. His back ached with his restraint even as he entered her again until their pelvises were pressed against one another. He ground his teeth and held himself there for a moment, letting her get used to the sensation of him fully filling her. She was so damn tight, it nearly hurt. The breath panted from his lungs as he began to move within her, slowly at first, then faster.

  Leila’s eyes closed with pleasure and a quiet moan sounded in the back of her throat. A groan tore from somewhere deep in Niall’s chest at her enjoyment. This was what he’d wanted, their mutual pleasure. Suddenly, the squeezing grip around him was no longer painful, but euphoric; his muscles no longer tense, but gliding with ease along with hers as they arched and moved against one another.

  Heat tingled through him and his bollocks tightened with the temptation to release. He angled his hips over hers to ensure he rubbed at the bud between her legs with each push and increased his tempo. The change in pitch of her moans told him he succeeded in hitting just the right spot.

  She clung to his shoulders as he thrust. Her center squeezed at him and began to tense. He gripped her hips and drove into her as she cried out. Pleasure melted over Niall as his own release took him with greedy, hot spasms of bliss.

  Muscles shaking, breath panting, he lowered himself to the side of her so as not to crush her and held her as their frantic heartbeats slowly calmed. She nuzzled against his chest and distributed featherlight kisses across his skin.

  “I dinna hurt ye?” he asked.

  She grinned up at him. “It was even better than what I had expected from my vis—” She stopped short of saying the full word.

  Her visions. And he knew why. Their love was not the only vision she’d had of him.

  “I willna ever hurt ye.” He stroked a lock of hair from her sweaty brow. “I’ll no’ ever kill ye, to be sure. They’d have to cut out my own heart to make it so.” He said it with all the power and conviction in his soul.

  Nothing could make him hurt Leila.

  She tucked her body closer against him. Five white dots were evident on her shoulder. He ran his fingers over them and quickly withdrew his hand. The spots were cold as ice. “What is this?”

  “When I was ill with the pestilence, Death came for me,” she replied against his chest. “But he knew he could not have me yet and so he left me with this reminder.” A shiver wracked her slender body and left her skin prickled with chills.

  He leaned back to regard her. “Death?”

  “My visions are seldom pleasant.” Her gaze slid away. “’Tis the only time one left a mark between the world of seeing and the world I live in.”

  “And these?” he let his fingertips skim over the large white scars on her arm and just below her breast.

  “Aren’t women supposed to ask men about their scars and not the opposite?” She lifted her brows at him.

  He chuckled lightly. “Ye can go over my whole body later, if it pleases ye to do so.”

  “I believe I may be tempted to make good on such an offer.” She let her gaze wander down him in a way that made his cock stir from its languid state.

  “Arrows.” She brushed her fingers over the scar at her arm. “We were being attacked at Mabrick Castle when I was a girl. I had a vision that my sister, Anice, would be struck.”

  “Ye put yerself in front of her?” Niall settled his fingertip in the dent of the puckered wound. Arrows were nasty things. There was no simply pulling them free. The tips were attached to the shaft with a bit of wax, so the head broke off when the shaft was tugged. The only way to get the remaining tip out was with a scooping instrument. The process was messy, painful and left behind deep scars.

  And Leila had been only a girl.

  “It was the only time I was able to change what I saw,” she said.

  His head snapped up. “Ye can change it?”

  She gave a discouraged shake of her head. “It hasn’t happened since.”

  “But it doesna mean it’s impossible.” Hope lit through Niall.

  His will was stronger than any damn vision. He would do anything to keep Leila safe, including defying the future. And it would all start with approaching Lord Armstrong and declaring Leila innocent.

  17

  Niall remained at Leila’s side for as long as he dared and spent the time holding her in his arms as they spoke of their lives. Each was careful to avoid any talk of the future.

  Lord Armstrong awaited Niall’s answer and that knowledge lingered in the back of Niall’s mind. He ran his fingertip over Leila’s slender waist. “I must return to Lord Armstrong and tell him ye’re no’ a witch.”

  Leila frowned slightly. “He won’t believe you.”

  Niall studied her carefully, putting weight to her words. “Did ye have a vision of it?”

  “Don’t you do that now too.” Leila sat up in the bed and drew the sheets over her beautiful breasts. “Everyone thinks everything I say has to do with a vision. Some things do not require the sight to know. Like Lord Armstrong’s dislike for me, his underlying hatred of my father, and his need to cast blame at someone’s feet for the death of his people.”

  “I am his deputy because he wants a man who is honorable working with him.” Niall caressed her face and tilted her chin up to better see her lovely face. “He will listen to me.”

  Leila turned her gaze from his and he knew she did not agree with what he said. She would see Lord Armstrong’s fairness. While Niall had not agreed with Leila’s captivity, he knew the Scottish earl would weigh on the side of fairness and justice.

  Niall brushed his lips against Leila’s in a tender, sweet kiss. One chaste enough not to lure him back into her arms. He dragged himself from her bed and pulled his discarded clothing from the floor to dress.

  She followed suit, donning her chemise and the kirtle over it. He helped lace up her back, kissed her once more and made his regretful departure. Despite his words of comfort to Leila, however, he found his pulse quickening with t
repidation the closer he came to the great hall.

  The earl stood by the hearth with his hands extended toward the fire and two hulking, wiry-haired dogs at his side. “’Tis cold as sin in this castle,” he groused.

  It was colder in the tower where Leila was being held, but Niall did not dare say such a thing. “I’ve spoken with Lady Leila regarding the charges of witchcraft.” His heart slammed so hard as he spoke, the earl could probably hear his ribs rattling.

  Lord Armstrong didn’t bother to turn his head to look at him. “And?”

  “She’s no’ a witch.”

  At this, Lord Armstrong did turn toward Niall. “Nay? Ye were once so certain of her engagement in witchcraft and now you deem her innocent. Ye asked her the questions ye were given?”

  Regret knotted in Niall’s stomach. He wished he could take back those early words of certainty that Leila was a witch. Despite her ability to see into the future and the past, he couldn’t find it in him to call her a witch now. Not when she was just a woman helpless against an unwanted power she could not control.

  “Aye, I asked all the questions,” Niall confirmed.

  Lord Armstrong narrowed his eyes. “And she answered nay to every one?”

  “Aye,” Niall lied. He hated the dishonesty and the pressing need of the situation’s severity.

  “Lies,” Armstrong hissed.

  Niall held his ground despite the chill running through his veins. If Lord Armstrong caught Niall speaking anything but the truth, it would cost him his position and Leila her life.

  “She lies,” the earl snarled.

  The tension in Niall’s shoulders did not relax at the realization that Lord Armstrong was not accusing Niall of lying, but Leila. Not when her life was still at stake.

  “I asked the questions I was given,” Niall replied. “The lass isna a witch.”

  “She’s made a fool of ye, Lion.” Lord Armstrong scoffed. “She’s lying to ye.”

  “I dinna feel right in charging her with these crimes, my lord.” Niall kept his voice even for fear doing so too vehemently might arouse suspicion. “Why would she have helped Lady Davina if she was a witch? Would she no’ have let the daughter of the man who arrested her die?”

  “Of course she cured her.” Lord Armstrong’s voice rang out against the stone walls of the great hall. “It was a clever attempt to prove her innocence, but I’m no’ as naive as ye, lad. I knew what she’d be about and that’s why I tasked her with aiding my Davina.”

  “My Lord, I—”

  “The people need a reason to explain this sickness that has killed so many,” Lord Armstrong said in a loud tone. “I’ve found them a witch whose death will ease the losses they have suffered.”

  Niall bit back his objection. The earl’s statement told Niall everything he had not understood before. Lord Armstrong did not believe or disbelieve Leila was a witch. Doubtless, he did not care. He only wished to appease his people’s need for vengeance.

  Niall also was aware that no amount of protest or reasoning would alter the earl’s decision. “What are we to do with her, my lord?” A knot formed in Niall’s gut even as he asked the question.

  “What one is supposed to do with witches, what the people expect us to do.” Lord Armstrong gave a maniacal grin. “We drown her.”

  Niall’s stomach sank. It was exactly as Leila had said.

  “This may cause a war with Lord Werrick,” Niall cautioned.

  But Lord Armstrong’s dark joy did not melt away at the threat. If anything, his smile grew wider. “So be it.” He reached down and stroked the head of one of his dogs. “That’s if the earl lives. The witch isna there to get him through his illness.”

  “When is her sentence to be carried out?” Niall had to work to keep his features impassive as he spoke, lest his emotions break free. His rage and disgust for the man he had once regarded with such esteem.

  “The sooner the better.” Lord Armstrong nodded to himself. “On the morrow, if it can be done in time. If no’ the day following.”

  Niall nodded even as he considered how he might be able to put off her execution for as long as he could. “I’ll handle the arrangements.”

  Lord Armstrong sighed heavily. “Nay, Alban will see to it. I’ve no’ been giving the lad enough responsibility and ye’ve done much with the prisoner of late. Mayhap too much.” He put a hand to Niall’s shoulder and squeezed it, the way Niall’s father used to do. “Ye’re a good man, Lion. I’m grateful to have ye among my men.”

  Niall nodded his gratitude at the compliment even as disgust roiled in his gut. For he was not a loyal man of Lord Armstrong’s. Not anymore. Not when the earl would so readily sacrifice a young woman’s life for the sake of slaking his people’s bloodlust.

  Lord Armstrong released Niall’s shoulder. “Go on with ye.”

  Niall turned at once and strode from the great hall directly toward Leila’s chamber as his mind worked through a forming plan. Brodie grinned at Niall as he approached. “Back so soon? I think ye’ve taken a liking to the lass.”

  Niall edged closer to Brodie. “Dinna be here as guard tonight, aye?”

  “Ye’re breaking her out,” the younger man spoke with certainty.

  Of all people Niall could trust with his life, it was Brodie. But it was not Niall’s life at stake, and so he did not reply.

  “She saved my sister, if ye recall,” Brodie said.

  “Aye, I do.”

  “I’ll be on guard tonight.” Brodie straightened against the wall with his head held high. “I owe the lass a life for saving my sister.”

  “Pray God ye willna have to give it.” Niall clapped the other man on the back in silent appreciation.

  “Dinna get caught,” Brodie warned. The skin around Brodie’s eyes tightened with sincerity. “Get her to safety.”

  And that was exactly what Niall planned to do. He made his way up the stairs to Leila’s room to share the plan with her, for this night, Niall would be breaking her free.

  Leila was glad to be back in her trews again. She was even more grateful for the belt of daggers once more secured at her waist.

  The light around the shutters of the chamber indicated dusk had descended some time ago and the world was tipping toward nightfall.

  With the coldest time of the year upon them, the final meal of the day was eaten just before the sun began to sink in the horizon. By dusk, everyone was in bed, buried beneath furs to ward off the pressing chill. Though the evening had only begun to stain its inky darkness through the castle, most would already be heavily asleep, lured there by drink and hearty fare. That was when Niall would come for her, so that they might leave under the cover of darkness and put enough distance between them and the castle before anyone roused to note their absence.

  She strained to listen for a noise at her door, the careful pat of Niall’s footsteps as he climbed the stairs, the light jangle of keys as he unlocked her door.

  Nothing.

  She ran her fingertips across the worn leather belt and let them glide over the hilts of several daggers. Niall had returned it to her earlier that day in anticipation for their flight from Liddesdale Castle.

  She bounced on her heels several times and moved through the steps of battle. They were motions she’d repeated time and again in her life. She had grown up learning to fight along with her sisters. The attack on Werrick Castle that had led to the rape of their mother had forced their father to make the decision to send them away or train them as warriors. Leila was glad he’d chosen the latter.

  She spun about and dipped low as she slid a dagger free before leaping up as she sliced with her blade. Her invisible opponent received a mortal wound. She did not pant with her exertions. If anything, her blood sang in her veins with the familiarity of practice.

  When she’d first been locked in the chamber, she’d been too resigned to her fate to continue her routine. But now, they would fight.

  She would be freed by Niall and together they would run to Werrick
Castle. To safety. To her father’s side to ensure he was still safe. If he was still alive.

  If she would even live. The memories of being pushed beneath the icy water threatened to consume her. Her heart crumpled at such thoughts and she tried to push them away, lest they debilitate her energy. She couldn’t think of failure, nor death. They would be successful in their attempt to escape and her return would find her father alive and well.

  She stretched out her muscles and stared at the door, eager for freedom. Steps sounded on the stairs and she fell still. She pulled a dagger free and curled her palm around the hilt. With her weapons and old clothes, she was no longer a prisoner. She was powerful, capable. She was a warrior who would not be kept down.

  The keys jangled in the door; the sound lovingly familiar. Regardless, she crouched low and prepared to strike.

  Niall opened the door. His gaze went to her dagger, then up to her. He grinned, understanding the way any warrior would how it felt to be armed once more. He closed the door and strode to her.

  She straightened at his approach. “Is it time?”

  He nodded and drew her into his arms. Their mouths found one another in a quick but passionate kiss. “It is good to see ye as a warrior once again, mo chridhe.”

  “It is good to be strong again.”

  He stroked her lower lip with his thumb and gave her a searing look that told her he couldn’t wait to resume their kisses when they could let it lead to more. “Ye’ve always been strong. Now ye’re just armed.”

  He grasped her hand and pulled her toward the door. Together, they crept down the winding stairs to the bottom.

  Brodie nodded at them and closed his eyes, body tensing. This was the part of the plan Leila had dreaded the most. A muscle worked in Niall’s jaw as he drew back his fist and struck Brodie hard with his fist. The younger man staggered back against the wall and slid down.

  Niall lunged toward him, caught the guard and slowly lowered him to the ground. Carefully, he dragged Brodie up the stairs and out of sight where he would remain until morning.