Page 66 of Leila’s Legacy

Leila had forgiven them for their fear, but Niall hated them for it. It made them weak. Stupid.

Anger rose up in him once more as he slipped away into the surrounding forest. He eased behind a tree and waited to ensure he wasn’t being followed. When no one came, that was when he ran. All the pent-up energy exploded from his limbs, carrying him along the inside of the forest’s edge lining the river. As he ran, he looked out over the water, seeking a glimpse of red trews or pale skin.

All he was able to make out were bits of ice caught in the rushing water. By the time he had arrived deeper into the woods where his destrier had been tied up, the fledging hope had begun to wane. He swung up onto his horse and guided him to the bank once more. There was the risk of being seen, of course, but if someone happened upon Niall, he could say he was searching for Bonnie and Brodie.

Niall wandered farther down the riverbank, his eyes scanning the river as frustration tightened the muscles along the back of his neck. His hand clenched the reins.

River water had soaked through his clothing and trews. Nearly all of him was wet. He hadn’t noticed it before when rage pumped through him. Now, with the onset of disappointment and hopelessness, it had sunk through his sodden skin and was settling into the core of his soul.

His nail beds were blue at his fingertips and his muscles ached from the intensity of his shivering. A bit of red caught his eye, peeking out from behind a large tree that had long since fallen into the river.

Hope shot through him. He jumped from his horse and ran closer to the shoreline. There it was. A bit of red, just a sliver, but enough to make him forget his drenched clothing once more.

He rushed into the water, shoving through the weight of it dragging at his legs. A foot came into view, pale as death, where it had been wedged between two branches. The current washed over it, heedless of the obstruction.

Niall cried out Leila’s name and rushed to where she lay face down, her hair dragged forward like dark seaweed. Niall ran deeper into the river, to his waist now. It pulled at him, tugging, threatening him with death at the slightest shift in his balance. It wanted him, as it had wanted her. But the river would have neither this day.

Niall bent to put Leila’s chest to his shoulder and gently loosened her foot as he stood, bringing her with him. She hung loose over him, unmoving. He carried her to the shore and lay her upon the gritty surface. Her eyes were closed, her face serene in death.

She’d only lost the one shoe; the other remained sodden on her foot.

He put his hands over her chest like Lady Davina had instructed and pressed down hard. Leila’s body was cold, the bones of her chest unyielding. Lady Davina had said to push with the weight of his body as the healer had, to make the movements fast.

He braced his hands on her and shoved his weight down on her chest. It felt wrong, as though he were beating the body of the woman he’d been forced to kill. Which was exactly what he was doing.

But if it worked…

He repeated the action again and again, each time becoming easier than the last. Desperation drove his hands as tears burned in his eyes. He kept going until water gurgled from between Leila’s lips.

Niall’s pulse jumped at the sight of such a miracle, at the spark of hope.

Leila might truly live.

He grasped her by the shoulders and hauled her to a sitting position as she coughed and sputtered more of the river onto its shore.

Leila was alive.

Fire blazed up through Leila’s chest and throat with a glowing hot intensity. Every cough, every sputter seemed to draw up more water. Her body was weak and pain shot through her. She raised herself on the bank with arms that could scarcely bear her weight and retched.

Her elbows buckled, but she remained upright, held aloft by the strong hands at her shoulders. She should care about hands on her shoulders. She should try to fight, to move away. That was what her last thoughts had been before this moment.

But how could she fight when she couldn’t even support herself? She gasped in a harsh breath. It did not fill her with relief like she had expected. Nay, it only served to stoke the flames of her pain so that she sputtered and retched all the more.

Aggressive shivers overtook her body, no more able to be controlled than the choking breaths that delivered violent sips of air to her starved lungs.

“Leila,” a male voice whispered brokenly in her ear. “’Tis a gift from God, mo chridhe.”

Mo chridhe.

She went still and slowly turned her attention toward Niall to find him watching her with tears shining in his eyes.

“Forgive me.” He brushed a bit of lank, wet hair from her face. “Forgive me, my love.”

Niall. She opened her mouth to speak and found her throat unable to work properly. Instead, she shook her head and began to cough more. He pulled her against the solidness of his body, against the slight heat there.

She could stay there forever, melting into him until they were of the same shape and contour. Not that it stopped her shivering, as if she were completely frozen in the middle and nothing might ever warm her through again.

“I need to get ye from here.” Niall kept her in his arms as he stood, removing his grasp from her only when he set her atop the horse and swept up behind her.