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Meg Westfield hunkered deep into her coat, even as she wondered why she bothered. She was soaked to the skin and not apt to get any drier as long as she was forced to withstand this downpour. She couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction thanks to gusts of wind blowing rain into her face. It was as if she was held within a circle of turbulent, cascade of grey water.
She was lost, completely and totally lost. There was the possibility that her borrowed horse, Rusty, might find his way back to the Kimberly stables if she allowed him his head. It was a chance, a slight chance perhaps, but Meg thought she had no choice but to take it.
Rusty moved slowly through the thicket. Even so, Meg had little chance to duck as he meandered, for some reason finding it necessary to move beneath every low lying branch, each one heavier with water than the last. She shivered as the last one emptied what she imagined to be a pond-sized gush of water down her back.
Meg breathed a sigh of relief as the horse came from the forest at last and moved across a neatly cropped lawn. She was back. Lord, she felt as if she had been gone for hours.
Hannah would be beside herself with worry.
Only Meg wasn’t back.
The small hunting lodge that stood before her wasn’t the Kimberly place. Lord, what had she done? Why hadn’t she paid attention to the change in weather? Why hadn’t she noticed before it was too late that she had wandered so far? And exactly how far had she gone?
She had no choice but to beg admittance. At least, until the worst of the storm cleared. She could only pray someone was in residence and could show her the way back to the Kimberly Estate.