Free Quick, Amanda by I Thee Wed Page B

closed and locked the door behind her. The rituals of undressing and preparing for bed did nothing to settle her increasingly agitated nerves. Garbed in her nightgown and a little white cap, she eyed the bed. She did not think she would be able to sleep. The urge to take some fresh air before retiring was suddenly over whelmingly strong. Perhaps such an excursion would help dispel the lingering fumes of Miranda's dreadful tea. A stroll around the top of the old castle walls might do the trick. Decision made, she took her faded chintz wrapper off the hook inside the wardrobe and put it on. She tied the sash, stepped into her slippers, and dropped her door key into her pocket. She let herself back out into the corridor, relocked her door out of long habit, and went down the hall to the heavy oak door that opened onto the battlements. When she reached it she had to lean her full weight againstt it in order to get it open. Outside, she ffound herself on top of the ancient stone walls. She
     
walked to the edge and looked out past the battlements. Down below, the extensive gardens, bathed in moonlight, ringed the castle. Beyond the cultivated foliage lay thick, dark woods where the moon made no impact. She took a deep breath of the brisk air and began to walk toward the far end of the wall. Music and voices drifted up through the night from the ballroom. As she moved farther along the battlements, the sounds of intoxicated revelry receded. At the end of the south wall, she turned and walked toward the east. The balm of the cool, crisp night cleared her mind of the residual effects of the tea, but it did nothing to lessen the foreboding sensation. Bloody premonitions. She certainly could not stay out here all night just because she was feeling a bit uneasy. Determinedly she started back along the battlements. When she reached the door that opened onto the corridor, she used both hands to haul on the ancient iron latch. She finally got the heavy door ajar. She stepped into the dark shadows of the corridor. Instantly the dark premonition of impending disaster grew more powerful. She was about to force herself to walk toward the door of her bed chamber when she caught the echo of foot steps on stone. Someone was coming up the spiral staircase at the far end of the hall. Dread prickled through her. There was no reason for a servant to come into this wing tonight. No reason for anyone except herself to be here at this hour. She no longer questioned the urgency that flashed through her. She simply knew with absolute certainty that she could not risk going back to her own bed chamber. Whoever was coming up the stairs might well be headed toward that room. Frantically she weighed her options. Then she leaped for the nearest door. The knob twisted easily in her damp palm. She slipped inside the empty, unused chamber and eased the door closed behind her. She put her ear against the wooden panels and listened. Her breathing sounded very loud in her own ears. The footsteps came to a halt. She heard the sound of iron keys
     
rattling on a ring. There was a scraping of metal on metal as one of the keys was fitted into the lock of her bed chamber door. She closed her eyes and struggled to breathe quietly. There was a soft curse when the first key failed to unlock the door. She heard another key slide into the lock. Someone had got hold of the housekeeper's key ring, she thought. Whoever he was, he apparently intended to try all of the keys until he found the one that fit her door. Another key slid into the lock. Another muffled curse. A man's voice, she decided. He was growing impatient. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of her bed chamber door opening. She shivered. The intruder was inside her room. If she had not gone out onto the battlements a few minutes ago, she would have been trapped, perhaps helplessly asleep, in her bed. What's this?" Chilton Crane's voice, raised in anger, boomed through the open door. It was loud in the empty