Page 35 of Leila’s Legacy

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Niall cursed himself the better part of the day. He didn’t know what had possessed him to reach out and stroke Lady Leila’s cheek. Even now, hours later, his fingertips hummed with the whispered memory of the connection between them.

He curled the offending hand into a fist and squeezed. She was a prisoner. Mayhap a witch.

He’d been so blinded by her beauty and strength that he had conveniently set aside what he knew to be true in his heart. Lady Leila had warned the castle of the arrival of the pestilence based on what others had said, and her own priest had lied when he’d said he didn’t believe she was a witch.

The condemnation ringing within Niall, however, was hollow. He knew the truth of his incensed thoughts and it had everything to do with how he had treated Lady Leila. She was locked in that room with nowhere to go, and he had touched her.

Truth be told, he had almost kissed her.

Her blue gaze had lowered to his mouth, unintentionally teasing, an innocent gesture that tempted him in the most carnal way possible. She was a lady, and quite possibly a witch, so either she was out of his realm of consideration as a lover, or she would be drowned for her heresy.

But witch or not, the fact remained that she was a lady and he would not leave her to Alban’s wrath. Niall carried the tray of food with him through the torch-lit halls. Brodie stood at the base of the curving staircase leading to Lady Leila’s tower chamber and broke into a smile as Niall approached.

“Yer relief is coming soon,” Niall promised.

Brodie lifted his shoulders in a good-natured shrug. “I’m happy to guard the lass. After all, ‘tis because of her that Bessie’s fever has quelled.”

Niall lifted an eyebrow in silent question. He hadn’t been aware Brodie’s sister was unwell. But then, in times of such pestilence, it was scarcely news when someone fell ill. “I’m pleased to hear she’s recovered.”

Brodie’s blue eyes crinkled with as much concern as Niall had ever seen in them. “There wasna anyone to aid her. I told Lady Leila what ailed her, and she told me to use one of the bags of herbs.” He leaned closer to Niall. “It wasna a spell or charm. I looked through it before I made the tea. Just bits of flowers and stems.” His gaze flicked up to the stairs that twisted into darkness. “I dinna think she’s a witch. If she was, wouldna she fly out of here?”

Flying out of the castle seemed a bit far-fetched. However, if she truly did have the powers of a witch, she wouldn’t be hiding behind tower room doors with bits of her trunk broken off to use as a weapon. The image of her fingers flashed in his mind, her nails torn, the cuticles still stained with blood. “That isna for us to decide.”

“I’ll speak for her at the trial with Father Gerard,” Brodie said earnestly. “If we’re able. I’ll do it for her.”

Niall was uncertain how such things worked. He’d only witnessed the trial of one witch before, the one who had killed his father. It had been hastily done in the course of a morning and Lady Elliot was dead by that afternoon. She’d been much loved by the people of the village and they had protested their outrage at her death. It was why Lord Armstrong now went to such lengths to ensure Lady Leila was properly declared a witch, especially as Lady Leila was an English earl’s daughter. Regardless, Niall nodded at Brodie’s generous offer before ascending the stairs to Lady Leila’s locked chamber.

“Put yer stake away, woman.” He held the food with one hand and unlocked the door with the other.

He found her standing in the middle of the room, no doubt pacing. All prisoners paced. It was a way of passing time, of assuaging some of the pent-up tension.

“I’ve come to bring our food.” He set the tray atop the abandoned trunk that had never been moved. While a table could be easily disassembled for a wooden club, which Leila would no doubt try to use, the trunk was too flimsy to be of any real threat but held food quite nicely.

“Our food?” She stepped closer and eyed the roasted venison. Thus far, all she’d been fed were heels of bread and wee bits of cheese.

“I intend to stay with ye until morn.” He sat on the floor on one side of the trunk and took a small hunk of bread to dredge through the savory sauce. It was a rich brown sauce, spiced with saffron and various herbs he couldn’t name. It was damn delicious—that was all he knew and cared about.

“I’ll be outside the door, of course.” He gestured to the opposite side of the trunk for her to sit. “But I figured first ye might like a bit of real food.” He popped the morsel into his mouth.

Lady Leila joined him where he’d indicated and gracefully tore off a bit of her own bread. “Thank you,” she said softly.

They used their fingers to eat, something that would never be permitted at the lord’s table. But lacking their eating daggers, they were left with little choice. Especially when Niall knew exactly what Leila could do with a blade. While she was compliant and respectful, she was still a prisoner and every prisoner would do anything to get free.

They talked while they ate, with her sharing stories of her life growing up with her four sisters at Werrick Castle, and with him telling her of some of the more amusing misdeeds of his youth. Like the time he’d put a lizard in his ma’s favorite pot and various other innocent pranks of a boy with too much time on his hands.

He didn’t delve into the later crimes that were far more egregious, far less forgivable. The stolen cattle and food, the fights with rival clans, the man he’d tried to ransom, which ended with his own father getting killed.

Leila’s stories were far more fascinating, and her eyes lit up with a quiet joy as she spoke. While her previous conversation with her father was proof that she did not feel she deserved the love of her family, affection for them still glowed within her.

The tray sat between Niall and Leila; the decadent food now gone as well as the last of the wine in the skin he’d brought. The light in the window was beginning to wane, but still Niall did not wish to leave. Not when the time they’d spent speaking had been so enjoyable.

The wistful smile on Leila’s mouth wilted somewhat. “You never said anything about what was said during my father’s visit, yet I’m sure you heard it all.”

Niall nodded once.

Leila’s gaze slid away. “Then you know I don’t deserve the treatment you’re giving me. I don’t deserve the fine food, or the protection and kindness. I’m not the daughter of an earl, I’m—”