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main road just as swiftly, but ages away from the Ramsey drive.
    Maggie, as usual, found herself trusting the less cautious part of her personality. She pushed determinedly onward. It was only a few moments later that she found herself stumbling out of the trees. She came out on the side of a laneway, this one wider and—judging by its rutted state—better traveled than the Ramsey drive. Maggie fought free of the bushes, pleasure and relief just starting to wash over her when a carriage trundled past.
    Her first instinct was to flee for cover, lest it be Lord Ramsey. Maggie followed that instinct and whirled about to dart back into the underbrush. She knew, even as she did so, that the action came too late; she caught a glimpse of a man’s face through the carriage window as she spun away. Maggie didn’t recognize the man. She was sure it wasn’t Lord Ramsey. She was also sure that she had been spotted. Still, her survival instinct sent her crashing into the woods to hide herself behind a handy tree.
    Pausing with her back against the old oak’s rough bark, she pressed a hand to her racing heart and tried to listen over the sound of her own heavy breathing. Her alarm increased as she heard the man call out, the carriage slow to a stop, and then the telltale sound of the coach door opening and closing.
    Damn! The man was coming to investigate. Maggie’s mind was suddenly crowded with possibilities. He could simply be a traveler on the road, curious about a woman dashing wildly about the woods. But then, he could also be Lord Ramsey’s cohort in crime. Or, perhaps he was simply getting out to stretch his legs.
    Maggie snorted aloud at the last possibility and glanced wildly around, seeking escape. She had not managed to escape her prison only to be caught now! She considered her options. Running was one, but she had already experienced the difficulties of racing about the muddy woods with tree branches and bushes snagging at her skirts. That was out. Which left hiding. Dropping to her knees, she scuttled into a bush next to the tree.

Chapter Four
    â€œYoo-hoo! Hello? Are you in some distress?”
    Maggie scowled and pushed a bothersome branch away from her face as she listened to the man’s calls from her cramped hiding space. Wonderful! A knight errant thinking to aid a damsel in distress. If only I could be sure that was all he is, she thought with a sigh, then wrinkled her nose. An unpleasant smell was wafting up to her. She wondered briefly at its source, but was then distracted by the sound of snapping branches and the crunch of dead leaves as her “rescuer” moved nearer.
    â€œYoo-hoo! Can I be of some assistance?”
    The racket the man was making as he pushed his way through the bushes drew alongside her, then continued past. Maggie sagged in relief and released the breath she had been holding. It was when she inhaled again that she recalled the odor she’d noticed earlier. It appearedto be growing stronger. Dear God, what is it? she wondered and raised a hand to wave the smell away. The stink increased tenfold, and it was then that she noticed the muck on her hand. She stared at it, slowly coming to a realization.
    Horror rushing over her, she set her one hand back to hold her weight as she lifted the other. It, too, bore the stuff. Dear God, she had crawled right into, or through, a pile of animal droppings! Shudders rolled through her, and she suffered a sort of squirmy fit, her body twitching and jerking with disgust as she began frantically wiping first one hand, then the other, on the ground and surrounding branches and leaves in an effort to remove the squishy substance.
    â€œEr…excuse me. Hello?” The words, spoken directly behind her, made Maggie pause and turn her head. She peered back through the foliage, only then realizing that the bush wasn’t wide enough to hide her. It ended at her hips. Her derriere—covered by the yellow gown