Rohan said in that well-remembered voice, “may I be of assistance?” She pulled herself away from him, stumbling a little on her weak ankle, as a wash of feelings tumbled over her. Relief. He couldn’t have been the one chasing her through the maze. Someone else had been the threat, real or imagined. Relief that he didn’t recognize her. She had only a moment to think—should she try a French accent, or the cockney one Meggie had been coaching her on? She could manage a Yorkshire accent from living up north with her family, but it all seemed a bit too complicated. Chances were he wouldn’t recognize her voice, but a bit of hoarseness would ensure it. “Someone was in the maze, following me,” she said in a breathless, throaty voice. He moved past her to the entrance of the maze, pausing to listen. The silence was deafening. He turned and smiled at her, that charming smile that seldom reached into his fine eyes. For some reason it seemed to on this occasion, his hard blue eyes bright.
