Her stomach was a mass of nerves, and it was so difficult to breathe in the tight dress that she felt a trifle faint. A dozen times since she had arrived at the inn, she had thought of throwing her mantle around her and running, but she had forced herself to stay. She was determined to do this.The room was lit with a dozen candles, giving the room a warm, golden glow. The landlord had brought a feast of food, as well, though she did not intend to let the evening get that far. He had also brought a bottle of wine, and she had drunk a glass of it for courage, with the result that she was slightly unsteady.It was almost the time she had designated for their rendezvous. What if he did not appear? Rachel had not really considered that possibility, and it was a curiously lowering thought.Then there was the sound of feet in the hallway outside, and Rachel rose to her feet, facing the door. The door opened, and Michael came in, dressed as James Hobson. His hair was brown again, and she felt a little flicker of doubt.
