Chapter Eighteen“She’s a wreck. Can she go on?”
Roland’s doubt sliced at her. A wreck? Wonderful. Just what a young woman should always aspire to. She didn’t feel young. Ancient was far more appropriate. Used up fit well.
Meghan leaned against the wall next to the open door of the dining room. She’d leave if she could find the energy. If she had somewhere to go. She slid down the wall until she was crouching in the hallway. The fine Persian rug of ornate reds and golds led up the long hallway back into the center of Roland’s Chartres home. The white-painted wainscoting gave way to tasteful green wallpaper up to the heavy cornice molding. Everything was perfect, neat, orderly.
She didn’t belong here. Not in the least. Her hair was unkempt, her clothes were a mess, and Roland had none tha
