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“What was that for?”
He shrugged. “You talk too much.”
She narrowed her eyes and swatted him.
“Fighting is a craft, and it must b
e learned and practiced. If you have to be violent, do it quick, do it hard, make it work the first time.” He spoke coolly, distinctly. “Understand this Sheridan, mercy is taught...it is a learned behavior, and you are merciful. You will have none when it comes to those that wish to harm you.”
She assessed his intensity. Mercy was taught? She didn’t shy away from the knowledge she was soft and saw things differently. But that was what she wanted. To be as hard as him…or close enough where she could protect those she loved. Where she could protect him, for she did not want him to stand alone against Sullivan and she did not want to hide behind his protection forever. “I understand.”
He stepped in closer to her. “What do you understand?”
She inclined her head and met the cool distance of his eyes. “That as humans, we are not naturally kind and compassionate. In fact we are savage and merciless…and those that are merciful…chose to be.” She swallowed. “And I must be cold toward those who wish me harm.”
He nodded and stepped back.
“I do not think it so, Elijah. For there was never a time I was merciless. In fact I think we were born kind and compassionate, and then we grew hard because of our circumstances.”
He gave her an incredulous stare. “We are born untamed…and then we draw on the trappings of civilization and present what we wish to the world.”
She walked over to him and held out her hand for the wooden knife he had whittled for her. “And the hardness you present now…that is natural? And your kindness is what you fight to maintain?”
He looked down on her, his face closed. She waited patiently for his response, her heart clamoring.
His lips quirked. “Let us begin.”
She huffed at his lack of response and walked with him a few feet away from the horses. The hour passed for Sheridan in a painful blur. She knew Elijah was being gentle but it did not feel like it. He attacked her by simply banding his arms tightly around her, forcing her to find a way to get out of his hold, all the time whispering directions in her ear. After twenty minutes of dropping her weight, slamming her head back, stomping on his shin she had not loosened his hold at all.
She had only gotten loose when she wriggled her buttocks deliberately against him. He had swollen hard and sure and he had released her with a narrowed eye look of anger. He’d then tackled her to the floor resting his weight on top of her. After struggling for a few minutes, she had kissed him for freedom. He had launched to his feet with a snarl and the laughter of his brothers had cause heat to spread all over her body.
She was lousy when it came to freeing herself from the hold of a man. Elijah had then decided her strategy was to never get taken. He’d given her a bowie knife, its blade sharp and wicked. It had slipped into her hands like it had been made for her.
He praised her that she was a natural and she agreed. Her throws improved and she was even quicker than him if the wicked slice that opened his flannel shirt had anything to do with it.
She panted, knife held low away from her body in the manner he’d showed her. He hooked a finger through the slash in his shirt and grinned at her.
“Good Sheridan, but this cut is too shallow. You should put the strength of your entire body into your slice and thrust so that you maim. This is too shallow.”
She walked over to him studying the ripple of muscles showing through the sliced flannel. “I do hope you are teasing, Elijah. If I had used my strength you would be bleeding now.”
Elijah chucked her under her chin. “That is your aim. I will protect myself. Do not hold back. Again!” He ordered and then mock attacked her.
She danced with him for a few minutes before a sharp pain in her thighs pulled her up. She stumbled and cried out kneading knotted muscles.
“Easy,” he murmured, stooping and pressed his fingers deep into her muscles unknotting them. The minutes passed in silence, and he used the soft sign of pleasure she expelled to guide him as to where to rub.
He rose from his crouch and lifted her and carried her to a large boulder. She leaned against the warm rock, too sore and too tired to care anymore how weak she looked to him.
“You are improving. We will do this three times per week and you will be proficient in no time. After I feel you have learned enough we will move onto you handling yourself better with a rifle.”
She nodded, too tired to speak. She lifted her head as Noah called out, “Grub is ready.”
She glanced at him and rolled her eyes at the wink he gave her. Whereas Joshua was serious and more than a little scary, Noah was all playful and flirtatious. He flirted with her every chance he got, ignoring Elijah’s scowl.
Sheridan laughed and slithered off the rock. A sense of pride and accomplishment filled her as she walked toward the cabin. Acting on impulse, she gripped Elijah’s hand and laced their fingers together. Her smile widened when he did not tug his hand away from hers. Instead, he drew her even closer to his side.
***
