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of understanding. Okay, they hadn’t picked flowers in the countryside together when they were kiddos, and she didn’t know him that well. But she perceived it. The invisible sensation telling her he obeyed orders. Had he been in her shoes, he’d have stayed in his room.
    “In that case,” he practically growled, “feel free to sort things out in your own chambers.”
    She wanted to snap back at him so much that her muscles tensed and a nerve in her lip twitched. “Am I grounded?”

Chapter 7
    Garrett shot her a fierce look. His anger was palpable and she realized too late her cheeky attitude wasn’t helping, yet he kept his temper.
    “I shouldn’t have to remind you that your life is in danger,” he snapped. “Or must I keep a watch on you at all times?”
    “Chill out, Garrett,” she said. “I’m fine, no thanks to you.”
    Her tone dropped a hint at being reminded of what transpired outside.
    Lines of worry wrinkling his warm face, Weedon touched her arm. “What do you mean? Has something happened to you?”
    “Well, yeah. It’s over now and I swear I’m all right. Two men tried to kidnap me, but I was rescued.”
    “By whom?” Weedon asked.
    “The man you were telling us about on our way here,” she replied. “The drifter. He showed up on cue, and he’s been very helpful.”
    Garrett raised his arms, only to flap his hands against the sides of his thighs. He sneered with exasperation. “I take it you’re surrounded by knights in white armor. Has it ever occurred to you that one has tasks to attend besides untangling you from pitfalls of your own making?”
    Weedon placed a conciliatory hand on his friend’s shoulder, probably sensing a deviation in the conversation. “Easy, man. I don’t believe Tracy got into trouble intentionally.”
    “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” Garrett said with a sneer. “She doesn’t think, she doesn’t anticipate. One cannot waste one’s time keeping an eye on her.”
    Garrett was mad at her, and he had a point. Gosh, she was so busted. Yet for all his classy talk of her so-called frivolous behavior, he sounded kind of phony. Like he was using her mistake as an excuse to lash out. Whatever, she didn’t have to listen to him discussing her shortcomings.
    “Excuse me,” she said, “I’m standing right here. If you have something to say to me, go ahead.”
    Looking down at her as though she represented nothing but a waste of time, Garrett said, “I have nothing more to say to you. Goodnight, Miss Richardson. And to you too, Weedon.”
    “Goodnight, Garrett,” his friend replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
    After Garrett climbed the stairs, his straight back proof of his resentment, Weedon turned to her.
    “Please try to take heart, Tracy. I understand Garrett can be forbidding at times but he’s a good man.”
    “I don’t care, Weedon. How can I not take it personally when he’s nice to everybody but me? We met this morning and I know we’re only strangers to each other, but still . . . I feel like he hates me.”
    Weedon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder to soothe the hurt inflicted by Garrett’s defensive attitude toward her.
    “Trust me, my dear, I’m certain he doesn’t. As I understand it, his very formal upbringing makes him uncomfortable with strangers. But given time, you’ll get the drift of him. I can assure you he isn’t that bad.”
    “Thanks. I wish Garrett was as perceptive as you are.”
    “If he was, you might not like him so much.” Weedon winked while rubbing his chin. “You know, I’ve spent good years in the wilderness. Life perspectives are somewhat different out there, instincts prevailing over anything else.”
    The change of topic alleviated her distress and allowed her to overlook his odd remark on her feelings for Garrett.
    “I’d love to hear your stories someday,” she said tentatively. “Your life in Canada with White Fur must be fascinating.”
    Sitting at his feet, the