Page 51 of Leila’s Legacy

She leaned back on his strength, wanting to feel every part of him touching every part of her. Slowly, he pulled her around to face him once more, his eyes alight with desire, his naked chest rising and falling with his ragged breathing. Leila pulled at her kirtle, peeling it from her body so she stood before him in only her chemise. Unlike the linen he’d worn, hers was fine. Thin. Her body was no doubt visible beneath it.

Leila grasped the hem and drew it upward. Niall gave a long, low exhale as she pulled it over her head and let it fall away. She hesitated, wondering what he might think of the puckered scars left from the arrows that had struck her as a girl: one on the upper portion of her left arm, one beneath her right breast. Those, as well as the white marks upon her skin that Death had left behind that always remained cold to the touch.

“Leila.” He uttered a curse under his breath. “Ye’re even more perfect than I imagined ye.”

Heat effused her at his compliment. His gaze did not linger on her scars, but on the whole of her, raking over her with searing desire.

“You imagined me naked?” She smiled coyly to cover her shyness.

He skimmed his hand over her waist. “That isna all I imagined.” His gaze seared into hers.

Leila’s throat went dry. “Pray tell what other things you imagined.”

His lips lifted at one corner in a boyish grin. “I think I’d rather show ye.” With that, he swept her legs from beneath her, so she fell back into his strong arms.

She laughed at the surprise of it and he carried her to the bed where he lay her on the mattress. Sitting beside her, he cradled her jaw and leaned toward her to kiss her slowly, thoroughly with the stroke of his tongue and the nip of his teeth.

He eased over the top of her on all fours. Leila’s breath caught at the image of his beautiful body poised over her. While she was a maiden, she knew enough about intercourse. One did not deliver babes without knowing of their origin, and everything in her hummed with anticipation.

Except that he still wore his trews.

He cupped her breast and leaned over her. His tongue flicked against her nipple and set her alight with a new wave of desperate desire. If he noticed her scars, he did not mention them, and for that, Leila was grateful. Instead, he loved her breasts with his hands and mouth and little scrapes of his teeth, alternating between the two until Leila was squirming beneath him.

She rubbed her thighs against one another for the scant pressure it provided to the lustful pounding at her core.

He glanced down at where she writhed in carnal frustration. His finger tickled down the side of her stomach. She twitched beneath him; her skin overly sensitive.

“Do ye need relief, mo chridhe?” he said with silky seduction.

She whimpered, a small, pathetic sound that gave voice to what words could not. His touch swept lower, lower—dear merciful heaven—lower… His fingertip brushed the apex of her legs and Leila cried out.

Niall kept his gaze on her as he crawled backward. With purpose, he nudged her legs apart, spreading her thighs. Leila flushed at the idea of her sex being blatantly splayed before him.

He met her gaze, then leaned over her and let his tongue drag against her center.

Leila’s hands fisted the bed sheets as he repeated the motion, more firmly this time. He lowered himself to the bed with his face firmly settled between her thighs as he licked at her center with the most delightfully wicked tongue.

His finger gently probed her as he tasted her, carefully stretching her as he eased the digit inward. There was a little discomfort with the action, but nothing that could draw her from the haze of pleasure building around her. He continued to nudge his finger into her until the slight pain melted into something euphoric and her hips bucked up to meet the glide of his hand.

Her core drew tight with anticipation. Niall’s finger and tongue were hot and wet against her, encouraging her over the edge. She soared into her crises on the wings of love and bliss. When she gently floated back, she found him climbing off the bed with his hands settling on the ties of his trews.

She rubbed her thighs together as currents of pleasure tingled throughout her body.

“Ye’re certain?” Niall lowered his gaze at her. His stomach flexed hard with each breath, as though he labored to maintain control of himself. “It canna be undone once we’ve…”

“Aye,” Leila replied with more certainty than she’d ever felt before. “I want you.” For if she did not survive her capture at Liddesdale, she would at least feel the full force of his love before she succumbed to death.

Niall watched Leila as he pulled free the first tie of his trews. She was lovely where she lay, her lithe, lean body bathed in a wash of sunlight, gleaming across lines of delicate muscle. She returned his regard with curiosity in her bright eyes and a flush to her cheeks, brought on by her crises.

He still had the intoxicating taste of her on his tongue, even as his ears echoed with her hoarse cry as she fell under her release. His cock raged with these sensations and the driving need to possess this extraordinary woman.

He drew free another tie and her teeth sank into her lower lip. He wanted to pull that lip free and glide his thumb into her mouth or kiss her until she was writhing again. Her gaze dipped over his torso, down his legs and back up again, flitting occasionally to where his arousal strained at his trews.

He tugged at a third and fourth tie and shoved the garment to the floor, so he stood before her completely naked. Leila’s blazing stare roamed over him, taking in every inch of him.

He leaned over her on the bed and ran his hands along the sides of her thighs and hips. She arched up toward him as he lay his body over hers. Though her limbs were lean, there was still a womanly softness in the roundness of her breasts and hips. He kissed her with the force of his love, and she met his passion with eagerness.

Her tongue swept against his, and she parted her thighs, cradling him. He found her with his hand first, stroking her and gently stretching her to better accommodate him. She gave a frustrated whimper and pressed against his hand.