Page 46 of Leila’s Legacy

“Thank ye,” Lady Davina gritted out from between clenched teeth.

Leila’s heart flinched. How could this considerate, gentle-hearted woman be Lord Armstrong’s daughter?

“The water, my lady.” Ana extended a mug of hot water to Leila.

The tea was steeped quickly, comprised mostly of meadowsweet root, and carefully fed to Lady Davina, ensuring all of it went down her throat. It had been a difficult feat when her head could not straighten due to the lump at her throat, and swallowing appeared to be not only difficult but painful.

Still, never once did the young woman complain or fight against the remedy. As Leila administered to Davina, Ana complied with the rest of her requests. All blankets but one were removed from Lady Davina’s bed and sent down to be boiled clean. The shutters were opened to allow in light and one casing left ajar to allow in some fresh air.

Ana paused in her work and stared down at the sleeping Lady Davina. A smile curved her lips. “I havena seen her sleep so well since she’d been ill.” She wiped at her eye with the corner of her apron. “If nothing else, ye’ve given the wee lass a reprieve from her constant agony.”

“We shall pray to God for him to do the remainder of what is out of our hands.” Leila stroked a strand of hair from Lady Davina’s face. “She is far stronger than I think many realize.”

“I hope ye’re right.” Ana bobbed a curtsey and set about changing the water they’d used to wipe Lady Davina’s face clean.

Leila hoped she was right too, for though her own life did not hinge upon it, Lady Davina’s did. Because it was true what Leila had told Niall, her fate was marked long before her capture.

No matter the outcome of Lady Davina’s condition or the witch trial, Leila would die. And no matter how kind and tender Niall had been with her, no matter that she had tried to harden her heart to him, Leila’s resolve had begun to melt.

As much as she tried to deny it to herself, she knew the terrible truth: she was in love with Niall Douglas. There was only one more step in her fated destiny: her death.

Niall’s heart pounded with anticipation at seeing Leila once more. He had seen little of her after she was tasked with tending to Lady Davina. She was even ordered to sleep in the young lady’s room on a pallet at the foot of her bed, like a servant. Leila had not complained at the insult. Instead, she had lost herself in her efforts to save Lady Davina.

Nearly a sennight had gone by when the announcement was made through the castle that Lady Davina was declared well, and Niall was summoned to return Leila to her chamber. He rapped on Lady Davina’s chamber door where Brodie stood guard and waited with an impatience unlike any other he had felt before.

Leila stepped into the hall, more beautiful than he had ever seen her. A rosiness of health and happiness touched her cheeks and lightness sparkled in her blue eyes. Even her hair appeared as glossy as silk and left him with a yearning to reach out and skim his fingers over the cool smoothness. It went against everything in Niall to present himself as a soldier before this woman he had not stopped thinking about for the entire time she’d been busy aiding Lady Davina.

“I am to escort ye to yer chamber,” he said with as much authority as he could summon. Even still, his command came out soft enough to bring a knowing smile to her lips.

Their eyes met and held with the same burning need. “This way,” he said gruffly.

She followed him like a biddable captive. He kept his steps paced slow, though his need to be alone with her felt as necessary as his need for air.

The walk to her chamber was interminable, as was the climb up the stairs. He hated having to lead her back to her chamber, to lock her up like a prisoner when she deserved to be set free.

Father Gerard would surely arrive soon. Mayhap when he learned what she had done, he would see Leila was no witch and proclaim her innocent. Niall grasped Leila’s hand as he led her up the last few stairs. Her fingers were warm for once, not icy with the cold.

The connection between them was instant, like tinder set to kindling. He opened the door to her chamber and immediately spun around to face her. They fell into one another’s arms, mouths slanting over one another’s, tongues tangling in lust. Niall edged her back against the wall and pressed his body to hers. She moaned into his mouth and arched into him, encouraging his arousal.

“I havena been able to stop thinking of ye,” he said between kisses. “Ye’re in my mind, my dreams. I’ve been waiting for this moment the entire week.” He ran his mouth down her neck, breathing in her clean, herbal scent.

“I’ve missed you, Niall.” Her words made the column of her throat vibrate beneath his lips. “I cannot stop myself from wanting you, though I know I should not allow myself.”

He cupped her breast in his palm and brushed the pad of his thumb over the hardened nipple there. “We shouldna be doing this,” he groaned. “But I canna help myself. Leila, I…” He straightened and stared into the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever beheld in all his life. “I love ye.”

Her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she ducked away from him and lowered her head. He looked at her in question as the door flew open.

Alban stood there with his lip curled as he regarded Niall. “Father wishes to see ye.” His gaze slid to Leila in a way that made Niall wish he had his sword in his hand. “Davina has survived because of ye.” He nodded in a gesture of gratitude that was more than Niall had ever seen him display.

With that, Alban led Niall from the room, rather than staying there with Leila and tormenting her, which was a greater show of appreciation than any words he could muster from his withered heart.

When Niall approached, he found Lady Davina at her father’s side. She wore a pale pink gown that made the vibrance of her red hair stand out like fire. Healthy color touched her cheeks and the smile set on her lips bespoke of a full recovery, as had been rumored.

Lord Armstrong spoke softly to his daughter and tenderly touched the top of her head. She nodded once and the smile melted into an expression of obedience. Without another word, she left the room. An affectionate sheen gleamed in Lord Armstrong’s eye until he set his gaze on Niall and the look frosted into ice.

“Father Gerard is dead,” he said abruptly. “The pestilence took down the party of men he traveled with, as well as him. This happened some days ago, but I had wanted to ensure my daughter could be healed before letting it be known.”

Niall’s heart slammed into his ribs, but he kept his face impassive. “Will Lady Leila no’ be tried then, my lord?”

“Oh, aye, she will.” Lord Armstrong fixed Niall with a pointed look. “By the most trusted man in all of Liddesdale.”

Niall’s stomach slithered low in his gut.

Lord Armstrong steepled his fingers. “Ye’ll question her and will bring your final findings to me.”

“Aye, my lord.” Niall lifted his chin. His word, his honor, would be what held Leila between life and death. The woman he had told only moments ago that he loved. The woman he did love.

“This was sent to me from the monastery where Father Gerard passed.” He handed a parchment to Niall. “It will aid ye in the questioning.”

He accepted the parchment with a nod. She would be innocent, surely. Though even as he thought such a thing, his insides twisted into knots.

“I’ll expect yer findings as soon as ye’ve finished the questioning.” Lord Armstrong waved his hand dismissively to Niall.

“Aye, my lord.” Niall folded the parchment in his hand and strode from the room. Once he was near the tower, where the hallway was empty, he unfolded the parchment and reviewed the carefully scripted lines. The tension at his shoulders began to relax as he read. For he was certain she did not fly in the air, nor that she consorted with the devil through intercourse, nor that she controlled the weather.

He read further on and the fear tightened through him once more. Can they see the future?

Niall would ask the questions as he was directed. All of them. But his heart was already heavy with what he suspected her answer would be. If she truly was a witch, like the one who had killed his father, could he lie to save her?