Page 69 of Leila’s Legacy

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 suggestive 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.