Her mouth pursed in a thin line. Not at his tone, which was matter-of-fact rather than surprised, but at his presence.
“I thought I told you to go away.”
He ignored her decidedlyunpleasantry. “Your aim would be more consistent if you started your hand more up by your ear with the blade pointed behind you. But your follow-through is good. And you put your weight into it. Young MacGregor taught you well.”
“Robbie didn’t teach me. I just started doing it on my own to pass the time. Like the squires,” she added.
He nodded as if that made sense. But before he could respond and attempt to distract her again, which had no doubt been what he was doing by intriguing her with almost praise and instruction, she slid the practice knife back into the scabbard that Robbie had fashioned for her at her thigh. If she noticed the way his gaze dipped to her leg and lingered, she didn’t show it. The warmth in her cheeks was clearly from the sun.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest impatiently. “Why are you here, Niall?”
He looked into her eyes, penetrating into places where he didn’t belong. Deep places. Buried places. “You know why.”
Had his voice always been that rich and husky? That warm and seductive? As if it could wrap around her like a soft plaid?
Yes.
It used to make her skin prickle and send shivers racing up and down her spine. Even now she felt a tickle at the back of her neck and the hairs on her arms seemed to be standing on end.
She frowned—scowled—though whether at him or herself, she didn’t know. “And as I told you yesterday, it’s impossible.”
It was too late.
“Prove it.”
She blinked her widened eyes more than once. “What?”
“I said prove it. Give me a month. If you still feel the same, I will do as you ask and leave you alone.”
She stared at him, hearing what he hadn’t said. “For good?”
He hesitated. “For good,” he repeated with a nod.
* * *
Niall hoped he knew what he was doing. He’d never been much of a gambler, but he was risking everything on this. He better know her as well as he thought he did. Annie was stubborn, but she could also never resist a challenge—especially when her pride was at stake.
He felt her eyes scanning his face and tried not to react or show how anxious he was. But he wondered if she saw it anyway. She seemed to guess what he was about.
She shook her head. “No.” And then another repeated more forcefully, “No. I won’t change my mind whether it is a month or a year.”
“Then you have nothing to lose,” he persisted. “Besides, you need someone to train you if you want to learn to defend yourself with a knife. Throwing at targets is fun for practice, but it isn’t anything you would want to do in a real attack.”
“Why?”
“It would be a rare occurrence that you would want to throw away your only weapon.”
She pursed her pretty lips together, clearly angry with herself for letting him distract her with talk of training. “I don’t need your help. I have an instructor.”
He might have smiled. “You mean youhadan instructor.”
Vestiges of the old Annie returned when her eyes flashed with fury. It shouldn’t make him so happy, but he felt the first flickers of hope stirring inside his chest. “What did you do to him, Niall? I swear if you hurt him, I will see that you—”
“I didn’t do anything to him,” he assured her before she could start issuing her threats.
Clearly, she didn’t believe him. “Tell me Robbie isn’t lying somewhere tied up or locked in some cellar nursing his wounds.”
His mouth curved very slowly. “I wouldn’t do something like that.”
