Page 48 of Leila’s Legacy

Tears burned hot in her eyes at her frustration.

He dragged his stare from the parchment up to her. “Leila.”

“Aye,” she whispered.

“Aye?” His brows raised; his face furrowed, as one does when they await a blow.

“I have seen the past in visions.” She closed her eyes as she made the admission, unable to bring herself to look at him. “And I see the future before it comes to be.”

“Ye knew about yer da before he fell ill.” There was no accusation in Niall’s tone.

Leila opened her eyes. “I knew the pestilence would befall Werrick Castle. I did not know it would be my father who would fall ill.”

“Ye knew who I was when we met that day in the village outside Werrick Castle, dinna ye?”

Leila turned her attention to the scarred wood floor where lines crisscrossed themselves. “I did.”

“How?”

“I have seen you often in my visions. I’ve known for the whole of my life that I would meet you.”

“What did ye see of me?” His expression was unreadable, and it plucked at a chord of unease within her.

“That we would be lovers,” she said quietly.

The skin around his eyes tightened. “Is that why I canna stop thinking of ye? Why I dream of ye now? Because ye make yer visions say we are intended to be together?”

Leila shook her head, helpless. “I’ve never been able to control what I see, or what the outcomes are, or even when I will have a vision. I’ve been plagued by them my whole life. It is not the gift some believe it to be, but a curse, and I loathe it.” Tears were blurring her vision and her voice was harsh, but she could not stop now that she had started.

“I have always been different than my sisters. You know the origin of my conception. You heard it when I spoke to my father.” Her cheeks blazed with humiliation. “These visions have been with me for as long as I can remember, dark images of what was to come and no way to properly gauge when it would, or how to stop it.”

She drew in a pained breath. “I stopped sharing most of what I saw, because doing so raised more questions than I could answer. These visions are fickle things, sometimes easily misread. Sometimes, I never had visions of dangerous events that came to pass. But even though I ceased sharing what I saw, they were always there. Not just the future, but the past and the terrible things that happened.” She hugged herself again, though this time against the hurt within her rather than the chill of the room. “My mother. I dream of her often, of what happened to her.”

“Leila.” He said her name gently. When she looked up, she found his forehead creased with concern.

“I’ve tried to keep from loving you, Niall.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I’ve fought it since you loosened the bindings on my wrist, and tried to keep my heart dammed from every kindness and good thing you’ve done. Loving you is…”

He reached for her and took her into his arms. His body was solid with strength and the wonderfully familiar scent of him, of leather and cedar, caressed her soul. He tenderly touched the underside of her chin and lifted her face.

“Loving me is what?” he asked.

She licked her lips. “Dangerous.”

He released her abruptly, as though she had burned him. “How so?” His demand was harsh, though she knew he did not speak thus out of anger. Not when his eyes were wide with fear.

She considered the situation from his perspective then; considered how she would feel if he told her she would kill him. Something deep within her splintered. She should not have said anything at all. She ought to only have shared that they were meant to be lovers and nothing more.

“Leila, tell me.” Niall swallowed. “Please.”

She closed her eyes and the heat of another tear slid down her face. “I will not survive my time at Liddesdale, and you will be the one to kill me.”

“Nay!” The protest erupted from Niall’s mouth before he could stop it. He closed the distance between himself and Leila and drew her into his arms one more time, reveling in the sureness of her sweet body against him, where he could keep her safe and protected. “I willna ever hurt ye,” he vowed against the cool sleekness of her dark hair. “I love ye.”

“And I love you, Niall.” She drew in a shaky breath and pulled away to regard him. “But, aye, you will kill me.”

He shook his head. “How can ye be so certain?”

“The more often I have a vision, the more likely it is to come to pass.” She looked down at her hands. Her fingernails had healed in the time she’d assisted Lady Davina. “Like a siege we had at the castle once, like the pestilence sweeping over the land…and like you.”