“Perfectly.”
She didn’t believe him.
“Good.” She sniffed in the air. What was that blasted smell? It seemed to be wafting all around her like a warm, drugging bath.
“Did you roll around in pine needles or something?”
He arched one eyebrow. There was nothing wicked about it, but somehow it was exactly that. “It’s my soap. You used to love the smell of the forests.”
She didn’t need to say anything about the wintry birch twigs on his breath that she smelled, too. He knew exactly how much she used to like that, too.
“It won’t work, Niall. I’ve changed.”
“We’ve all changed, Annie. You aren’t the only one who has suffered the past two years.”
Annie felt a sharp stab of conscience. Some of her anger and annoyance with him dissipated. He was right. She should have said something before. “I’m sorry about your father and brother. I liked Malcolm. He was always kind to me.”
Niall looked away, silent for a moment, as if the memories were too much for him. Finally, he turned to her with a sharp nod. “He knew how I felt about you. Maybe better than I did myself. I miss them both.”
Suddenly something occurred to her. Something she’d not wanted to think about, but now that she was here standing before him, she couldn’t escape. “I would understand if you blame my clan for their deaths. I know they died protecting my kinsmen who’d taken refuge on your land.”
His mouth fell in a hard line until tiny lines of white appeared around his lips. “There was only one person to blame for what happened to my family, and that was Colin Campbell.” He practically spat the name. “I had more reason than one to see him dead.”
Their eyes held, and for the first time in a long time, Annie felt as if someone understood her hatred and she didn’t need to shy from it.
She was not ready to forgive him completely for taking her vengeance from her, but maybe she could understand why he’d done it. His need was as powerful as her own. But something needed to be clear.
“I want you to promise me that your days as my personal avenger are over. Any justice meted out in my name is mine to decide.” He looked ready to argue, but she stopped him. “I mean it, Niall. You have done enough. Do you promise?”
His mouth pressed in a tight, grim line, and his eyes darkened. She could see that he did not want to agree, but he obviously read her determination and finally nodded.
Annie smiled. “Should we begin then?”
“If you are ready?”
She was. She couldn’t wait to get started again.
CHAPTER FIVE
Starting again is exactly what happened. They went back to the beginning. And if Annie thought Robbie was methodical and slow to get to the good stuff, Niall was even more so.
For the next few days, they repeated the same basic lessons she’d had from Robbie in even more excruciating detail. Where Robbie made her do something a dozen times, Niall made her do ittwodozen times before she could move on to the next step.
Five days later, she was still using the blasted wooden knife, and now she didn’t just know how to remove it with her right hand—and hold the grip a variety of ways—she could do it with her left as well.
Initially suspicious of Niall’s motives in agreeing to train her, Annie’s wariness gradually relaxed after the first few days of instruction. He obviously took training—even training a woman—very seriously.
He wasn’t cruel or unduly harsh, but neither was he particularly forgiving or understanding of her mistakes. Where Robbie had been tentative and patient to a painful fault, Niall was serious—even stern at times—and demanding. He suffered no excuses and gave no quarter. At times she wondered if he forgot she was a woman.
Annie loved every moment of it. It was exactly what she needed. She didn’t want to be coddled or treated like a delicate flower. Niall’s attitude was refreshing. And the challenge of the training invigorated her. It didn’t just give her something to do—something that felt important—it also made her feel strong.
She’d been so powerless when those men attacked her. Learning to use a knife made it seem as if she was taking some of it back.
Although she couldn’t be sure—Niall’s expression was so frustratingly unreadable—she thought that her hard work and improving skills had impressed him. In the beginning, he hadn’t seemed to be humoring herexactly, but with each day that passed, he seemed to be not just more comfortable with the idea but to have actually embraced it.
Maybe a little too much.
On the morning of their sixth day of practice, he gave her a new instruction.
