think it would be necessary."
She glanced at the soft flannel shirt and shook her head. Sleeping in his shirt seemed—indecent.
"I don't think so." She barely breathed.
"It's either that, or nothing. And it gets a little cold for the latter."
She eyed him closely, facing his challenging words with not so much as a blink. "Point taken. I'll take the shirt, then."
"I figured you would."
"And you know me so well, don't you?"
"Better than most," he said with a low chuckle, handing her the shirt.
"It merely stems from a good upbringing. But let me put your mind to rest once and for all about me, Amory. I'd grow old and gray and alone before I would succumb to a backwoods Romeo like you again. I've grown up, and acquired some intelligence and taste in the process. While we're at it, let me remind you that I am still John Douglas' daughter, and I would think if you don't have any respect for me, at least you might show some for him."
Had she put him in his place yet? She knew if she was going to survive this ordeal she would need some leverage between them, and anger was as good as any. As long as he stayed reasonably angry with her, he wouldn't get other ideas, she decided, and neither would she.
"Are you through reading me the riot act?" There was no humor left in his face. She couldn't have been more effective if she had slapped him.
His voice cut through her, searing her skin like a hot-edged knife, his face registering an emotion she wasn't sure about. "I'd every intention of respecting you without the reminder. No one's more aware of who you are, than I. I'm doing my best to be civil with you, but you aren't making it easy."
She shrugged.
"Look, we're snowbound. Your father will be here shortly, and then you can be on your way again. So let's stop cutting each other down, and concentrate on surviving. I'm sorry I've been a part of this whole thing."
For just a moment, she felt a spark of sympathy for him. Perhaps he was only a victim of her father's manipulations? But that didn't change anything. He was weak where her father was concerned, and she didn't like or respect weakness in a man. Even if he did owe the man, it didn't mean he had to give up his own principles because of it. She was still here. Besides, she was too tired to spend the night warring with this insulting man. "I'm sorry I'm a part of it, too."
A long silence fell between them, then he glanced at her again, his eyes traveling slowly over her, so slowly that she reddened. She felt stripped.
"Then we understand one another. And you will see your father. Although I can't fathom your bitterness toward him. Aside from my brother Tanka, John's about the nicest person I know."
"My relationship with my father is none of your business. And I don't consider myself bitter, just indifferent. He's got to learn he can't lead my life for me. He's been trying for much too long, and I simply won't stand for it anymore. I've worked hard to be my own person, and had gained a certain amount of independence from both of them. I'm not about to let my father dictate to me now."
"I suppose eight years is a long time. Lack of communication can ruin any relationship. But the way he feels about you..."
"He has an odd way of showing those feelings. I haven't had so much as had a card from him since the day I walked out on y—" she burst out, unable to stop the flow of emotions erupting within her. Why did he have to pry into her private life again? She felt exposed and raw, emotions repressed for years stabbing at her heart. "Besides, how would you know how he feels about me? He wanted a son. He got daughter."
His eyes found hers and locked. "Maybe at first he did. But I know John. Deep down, he only wants what's best for you. Maybe he did want a son, most men do. It's natural. I only know he's scared for you. I suppose he comes off a little strong and overprotective. But his intentions are the best."
"Scared for me? What does that mean?"
"I'll let him
She glanced at the soft flannel shirt and shook her head. Sleeping in his shirt seemed—indecent.
"I don't think so." She barely breathed.
"It's either that, or nothing. And it gets a little cold for the latter."
She eyed him closely, facing his challenging words with not so much as a blink. "Point taken. I'll take the shirt, then."
"I figured you would."
"And you know me so well, don't you?"
"Better than most," he said with a low chuckle, handing her the shirt.
"It merely stems from a good upbringing. But let me put your mind to rest once and for all about me, Amory. I'd grow old and gray and alone before I would succumb to a backwoods Romeo like you again. I've grown up, and acquired some intelligence and taste in the process. While we're at it, let me remind you that I am still John Douglas' daughter, and I would think if you don't have any respect for me, at least you might show some for him."
Had she put him in his place yet? She knew if she was going to survive this ordeal she would need some leverage between them, and anger was as good as any. As long as he stayed reasonably angry with her, he wouldn't get other ideas, she decided, and neither would she.
"Are you through reading me the riot act?" There was no humor left in his face. She couldn't have been more effective if she had slapped him.
His voice cut through her, searing her skin like a hot-edged knife, his face registering an emotion she wasn't sure about. "I'd every intention of respecting you without the reminder. No one's more aware of who you are, than I. I'm doing my best to be civil with you, but you aren't making it easy."
She shrugged.
"Look, we're snowbound. Your father will be here shortly, and then you can be on your way again. So let's stop cutting each other down, and concentrate on surviving. I'm sorry I've been a part of this whole thing."
For just a moment, she felt a spark of sympathy for him. Perhaps he was only a victim of her father's manipulations? But that didn't change anything. He was weak where her father was concerned, and she didn't like or respect weakness in a man. Even if he did owe the man, it didn't mean he had to give up his own principles because of it. She was still here. Besides, she was too tired to spend the night warring with this insulting man. "I'm sorry I'm a part of it, too."
A long silence fell between them, then he glanced at her again, his eyes traveling slowly over her, so slowly that she reddened. She felt stripped.
"Then we understand one another. And you will see your father. Although I can't fathom your bitterness toward him. Aside from my brother Tanka, John's about the nicest person I know."
"My relationship with my father is none of your business. And I don't consider myself bitter, just indifferent. He's got to learn he can't lead my life for me. He's been trying for much too long, and I simply won't stand for it anymore. I've worked hard to be my own person, and had gained a certain amount of independence from both of them. I'm not about to let my father dictate to me now."
"I suppose eight years is a long time. Lack of communication can ruin any relationship. But the way he feels about you..."
"He has an odd way of showing those feelings. I haven't had so much as had a card from him since the day I walked out on y—" she burst out, unable to stop the flow of emotions erupting within her. Why did he have to pry into her private life again? She felt exposed and raw, emotions repressed for years stabbing at her heart. "Besides, how would you know how he feels about me? He wanted a son. He got daughter."
His eyes found hers and locked. "Maybe at first he did. But I know John. Deep down, he only wants what's best for you. Maybe he did want a son, most men do. It's natural. I only know he's scared for you. I suppose he comes off a little strong and overprotective. But his intentions are the best."
"Scared for me? What does that mean?"
"I'll let him
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