She looked at him blankly and blinked a few times. “You want me to do what?”
“Run around thebarmkinfor a quarter of an hour or so to get warmed up.”
Annie had run around the moors and braes of Glenlyon as a child, but that was some time ago. A quarter of an hour sounded like a long time. “I’m already warmed up,” she said. “It’s going to be another beautiful day, and I got out here early to practice that technique you showed me yesterday to throw the knife at the target with spin. It’s better for warfare, right?”
She purposefully got it wrong, but he wasn’t easily distracted. “Without spin. Now get running, Annie.”
She made a face. “What does running have to do with knowing how to use a knife?”
He frowned as if he wasn’t used to explaining himself and wasn’t particularly enjoying the experience. “It will improve your endurance and make you stronger.”
“I’m already strong.”
“For a lass, maybe.” He knew perfectly well how much she would hate that. “But even my weakest squire can run for an hour without trouble.” He shrugged. “If you can’t handle it…”
She muttered something foul under her breath and cut him off. “I didn’t say I couldn’t handle it.”
“Good. Then get going. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
The first time around the yard wasn’t too bad. The second time she was breathing hard. By the third, fourth, and fifth, she was really struggling, and by the sixth, she thought she was going to die. Fortunately, she was saved the humiliation of crawling for the seventh when Niall—from his lie-back-with-nothing-to-do position on a bale of hay, nonetheless—told her to stop.
Sweating, huffing, and undoubtedly red-faced, she dragged herself over to where he was lazing in the shade, looking perfectly fresh, clean, and effortlessly handsome. As usual his expression gave nothing away, but his blue eyes were suspiciously bright—as if he were holding in laughter.
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you need to ‘warm up’ as well?”
“I was up early with some of your brother’s men scouting Ben Vorlich.”
“You mean you’ve been climbing mountains all morning and look like…?”
He grinned. “Like what?”
“Nothing,” she grumbled, slamming her mouth shut. He knew perfectly well how he looked.
“And I was running,” he corrected. “Not climbing. I need to get stronger, too.”
Unconsciously, her eyes dropped to his arms and chest, taking in every inch of that strength. He didn’t look as if he needed any more.
She flushed when she realized what he’d done—tricked her into looking at his body—and quickly lifted her gaze back to his face, where admittedly it wasn’t much safer.
Angry at herself for falling for his ploy, she snapped, “Are we going to get to work then?”
He stood and bowed with an exaggerated flourish. “I’m at your command, my lady.”
But unfortunately, for the next few hours it was the opposite, and she was athiscommand while he barked out instructions.
“Come at me again,” he said for the third time. “You are still hesitating. You want to be quick and purposeful and take advantage of the element of surprise. This isn’t about you facing off with an opponent in a knife fight. It’s about you using your knife to take advantage of an opening to escape or to kill someone who is threatening you.” His expression was graver and more serious than it had been all week. His eyes bored into her as he scanned her face. “You understand what we are doing here, don’t you, Annie? If you pull a weapon, you have to be ready to use it. Your aim is to inflict as much damage as you can with one strike. You may only get one chance, so you need to make it count. If you can’t do that, we are wasting our time.”
The tinge of disappointment in his voice made something in her chest pinch. “I’m trying, but…”
“But what?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
He grinned.
Misunderstanding, she bristled. “Why are you smiling? Is it so hard to conceive that I could put a nick in that steely armor of yours?”
His grin deepened. “Not at all. That’s the goal. When you can stick me with that blade, I’ll know I’ve done my job.”
