She was furious not only that she’d lost control and panicked, but that Niall Lamont had stood witness to the moment of weakness. It was bad enough that Robbie had seen it.
She was done having people feel sorry for her. Done feeling vulnerable. The Campbell soldiers had broken her, but she had every intention of putting herself back together. She couldn’t do that, however, if everyone kept looking at her as if she were a fragile piece of glass that could shatter with one wrong touch.
She turned stiffly to Robbie and said matter-of-factly, “I’m sorry. I forgot where I was for a minute. It won’t happen again.” Before he could respond, she turned to Niall. “I can see why you jumped to the wrong conclusion, but your interference wasn’t necessary. Whatever business you have with my brother, finish it and be on your way. You don’t belong here, Niall.”
* * *
Niall couldn’t believe the change in Annie. The last time he’d seen her she’d been bruised and battered, as delicate and fragile as a broken bird. He’d been gutted—absolutely ripped apart—when she’d flinched from his gaze through that window.
But there was nothing delicate and fragile about her now—especially her tone, which had a distinctly imperious edge to it.Royal is my race, that was for sure. As happy as he was to see her healed and strong again, he admitted that he could have done without the haughty, indifferent attitude. Annie had never been indifferent to him. Never.
This had gone on long enough. Niall knew he’d hurt her terribly, but her stubbornness wasn’t helping matters any. How were they going to get past this if she wouldn’t deign to hear his apology?
“This is exactly where I belong,” he said. “You’re here.”
She made a sharp sound of protest, but before she could respond, he turned to the lad, whom he now recognized as one of Patrick MacGregor’s clansmen. The boy’s color and breathing had returned to normal, but he was still holding his throat where the pressure of Niall’s grip was visible in blotches of red.
“Sorry about that, lad. But from where I was standing, it looked as if you were hurting her.”
The young man’s eyes narrowed, but it was clear that it wasn’t Niall’s apology that he objected to; it was the use of the word lad.
“Robert Mac—Murray. We met a few years back at the Games at Dunvegan before you were outlawed. I was a guardsman then, but I’m the chief’sAm Marischal Tighenow.”
Niall swore inwardly when Robbie unknowingly mentioned Dunvegan, where Niall had made such a horrible mess of everything. But when Annie’s gaze hardened, Niall wondered whether the “lad” had done it intentionally.
Niall’s own gaze narrowed as everything started to come back to him. He remembered Robbie now. He was the lad who’d looked longingly at Annie like a lovesick pup.
Robbie had changed. Although still young—probably a couple of years Niall’s junior—he had added a few inches in height and a couple of stone in muscle.
Niall also knew that the mention of Robbie’s place as seneschal in Patrick’s guard hadn’t been an accident. The lad was obviously an accomplished warrior to have achieved such an important position at his age.
But other things hadn’t changed. If Robbie’s embarrassment was any indication, his feelings for Annie were exactly the same.
“You caught me unaware,” Robbie added, as if to explain how a warrior of his skill had been so overpowered.
Niall didn’t think the result would have been any different if Robbie had seen him coming, but cognizant of a young man’s pride, he let it go.
Suddenly the scene he’d stumbled onto came back to him. As did Annie’s unusual clothes. He scanned her up and down, taking in theleine, hose, and too-big cotun. It almost looked as if she was… No. That was impossible.
Niall frowned. “What were you doing out here anyway?” He turned to Annie. “And what did you mean by ‘training’?”
Robbie and Annie exchanged glances with an intimacy that Niall didn’t like. Was there something between them? He felt a stab between the ribs that made him regret his precipitous decision to let go of the other man’s throat.
Annie must have guessed some of Niall’s thoughts because she stepped in front of Robbie, not realizing the additional damage she was doing to the young man’s already-bruised pride.
“I’m not sure what concern it is of yours, but if you must know, Robbie is teaching me how to defend myself with a knife.”
Niall had every intention of telling her what concern it was of his, but then he heard the word “knife.” “He’s doingwhat?”
He hadn’t realized he’d shouted the last until Annie’s big green eyes flashed like a lightning storm, and she raised her own voice in reply. “You heard me—except apparently the part where it’s none of your concern. Leave, Niall. You and your opinions are not welcome here.”
She looked angry enough to mean it, and Niall realized his fear for her had gotten the better of him. He had to calm down. But anger and rage had ruled him for a long time. It had been a while since he’d behaved with any care for civility. Still, this wasn’t how he intended this to go. He didn’t want to fight with her. He wanted to apologize.
But damn it, she was a lass. Lasses didn’t train with knives. Did she have any idea how many errant stabs and slices he’d suffered when Malcolm trained him?
Niall tried not to shudder and forced himself to take a different tack.
He addressed the red-faced lad-man behind her. “Would you give Annie and me a few minutes?” Considering the fact that he’d like nothing more than to rip the other man in two for putting her in such danger, Niall was rather proud of the semifriendly tone he’d managed. Well, at least it wasn’t outrightly hostile. “There is something I need to say to her in private.”
