Amanda Scott by Highland Treasure Page A

said hastily, “Don’t be thinking she did not really care for Ian, for nothing could be farther from the truth. She insisted upon a full year’s mourning, and more, for she mourned James Stewart as well. But we agreed that she would be wiser to get herself settled before winter set in, rather than spend the whole season alone. Since she had decided not to travel into Perthshire with her aunt and cousin, it seemed an excellent notion.”
    Duncan frowned. “Somehow, MacCrichton, I did not perceive that the pair of you were wildly in love.”
    MacCrichton chuckled. “You mean because I put her across my knee? Lord, man, she’s been leading me a dance, and she thought she could call the tune here the way she’s called it the past year and more. I just decided to show her where her duty lies. She defied me, and I showed her the error of her ways.”
    “Well, don’t do it again until I’ve gone. I won’t trust information that has to be beaten out of the lass.”
    “I doubt she’ll say much at all if we don’t press her.”
    “You leave me to ask the questions then, for I can promise you, she knows me well enough that she won’t dare lie to me. I’ll find out what she knows.”
    MacCrichton shrugged, getting up to refill his own mug, then looking impatiently toward the door. “Can’t think what’s keeping them. She’s had time and more to put her clothes on, and MacSteele knows better than to keep me waiting.”
    Just then a clatter of boots sounded on the stone steps.
    Bannatyne stuck his head in, saying to Duncan, “He’s coming now, sir.”
    MacSteele hurried in, his face red. He was alone.
    “Where the devil’s the girl?” MacCrichton demanded.
    “She willna open the door, laird.”
    “You have a key, man. Use it!”
    “I tried, laird, but though I turn it, the door willna open. She wouldna answer when I called, either. Mayhap she’s had a fit and all.”
    “Nonsense,” MacCrichton said, striding toward the door.
    Duncan followed, wondering if MacCrichton had done more to her than he had seen him do. There had been only the one stripe, and she had not been screaming hysterically. One stripe and one scream seemed insufficient cause for a fainting fit, or worse. More likely, the lass was being obstreperous. Lord knew, the Maclean women were not known for being soft or submissive.
    They soon reached the top of the stairs, and Duncan suddenly found himself suppressing laughter at the sight of MacCrichton and his henchman both trying to open the door at once. The area was small, lacking adequate room for both men to move about in the small space. MacSteele quickly gave way to his master, however, and MacCrichton rattled the door, then banged on it angrily.
    “Open this door, lass! I’ll make you sorry if I have to break it down.”
    Silence greeted him.
    He pounded again. “Open this door at once! Do you hear me?”
    More silence.
    Duncan said, “Are you sure your man unlocked the door? What if it was unlocked before, and when he turned the key he locked it?”
    MacCrichton stared at him, then looked at MacSteele. The henchman said quickly, “Mistress Maclaine ran up here, laird, and she didna have a key. The lad, Chuff, had one, and he must have been here when she came or the door would not be locked now. It takes a key to lock it, ye ken, and it canna be locked from inside.”
    “That’s just what Black Duncan said, you fool. If the lad left it unlocked because she had not yet returned, she would just have closed it, not locked it. Are you sure you did not lock the door instead of unlocking it?”
    “Aye, I’m sure, but ye can try for yourself, laird. Here’s the key.”
    Snatching it from him, MacCrichton put it in the keyhole and turned it, trying to lift the latch at the same time. The latch would not budge.
    “See, laird, it’s like I said. The door willna open either way.”
    Turning the key again, MacCrichton nodded. “You’re right, so what the devil is wrong here? She’s done