"Aye, speakin' of which, are ye going to let yer poor hirelin' eat anytime soon? I take it ye are havin' her stay until midnight. Whydidye make her come in so early?"
Dominic bit his lip. He didn't have a good answer for that. He always sent the barmaids home between eleven and twelve and dealt with the remaining customers himself.
It got rowdy after midnight, and although Astrid had been more than capable of taking care of herself, he hadn't particularly wanted to risk it. Usually, Astrid had come in at noon. He couldn't say why he'd asked Paisley to arrive so early. To seeif she would do it without complaining, perhaps? Certainlynotbecause he wanted to see her.
She had found a spare broom in one of the cupboards and had affixed a damp cloth to the end. She was using her makeshift duster to clean the cobwebs out of the corners of the ceiling, stretching up as far as she could and standing on her tiptoes. She was entirely focused on her task, worrying her full lower lip between her teeth.
A powerful wave of arousal shot through Dominic, and he forced himself to look away. He hadn't bothered to find a woman to join him in bed. The whole idea seemed vulgar, and he would be hard pressed to find a woman whowasn'ta local.
Besides, knowing Dominic's luck, he would still find himself preoccupied with Paisley.
She works for ye now,he reminded himself sternly.Hands off.
Thomas had been happy enough to bounce from bed to bed in his youth, until he'd met Emma and every inclination to bed a woman that wasn't her had vanished more or less forever. But Dominic was not Thomas and had never seen the appeal of taking woman after woman to bed.
It sounded exhausting. They never quite interested Dominic that much anyway. He could admire a pretty face, of course – he wasn't blind. But there never seemed to be thehungerin Dominic's gut, most of the time he didn't want them the waytheywantedhim.
There were some women who piqued Dominic's interest, but they were few and far between. Oddly enough, it was rarely their faces and forms that interested him so much, but something else. Something more difficult to define.
"Penny for yer thoughts," Thomas said pleasantly, almost as if heknewwhat Dominic was thinking about.
"I'd nae sell ye me thoughts for all the money in the world," Dominic replied waspishly. "Does Emma know that ye are drinkin' yourself silly here? Should ye nae be at home, runnin' yer Keep?"
"Nay, as a matter of fact," his friend responded testily. "Emma is doin' her healer's rounds. She'll meet me here. I'm sure she'll want to meet yer new fancy woman, too."
"If ye are talking about Paisley, me newhirelin', then ye can piss off."
"Ouch. Harsh words. Another ale, there's a good lad."
Dominic considered throwing a whole tankard of ale at Thomas instead – it would be worth it to see the look on his face – but decided against it. He poured the drink and shoved it towards him.
"She's doin' a fine job," Thomas commented, nodding towards Paisley, who had succeeded in getting down all of the cobwebs. "Nay need to keep starin' at her like that."
Dominic, to his horror, felt color rushing to his face. He tried to force blood back from his cheeks by sheer force of will. He wasnota blushing schoolboy. If Thomas thought he was, the teasing would never stop.
"Ye will have to excuse me if I'm a little suspicious," he replied, before he could stop himself. "But after Astrid, I think I'd rather keep a closer eye on this one."
That wiped the smile off Thomas' face, and Dominic immediately began to feel guilty. Astrid, the previous barmaid, had been a stunningly beautiful young woman who had an obsession with Thomas. Or rather, with the position he held of a local laird. She wanted to be a lady, and Thomas – cheerful, charming Thomas who was always keen to flirt – seemed to be a perfect choice.
She didn't realize how deeply in love he'd fallen with Emma, the Keep healer, until it was too late. Astrid had tricked Emma, Thomas, and all of them, collaborating with a rival pub owner Emma had worked for in the past. Emma had nearly been murdered, Thomas had been seriously injured, and Dominic himself had received a nasty wound. He shot a guilty glance over at his friend.
"I'm sorry, Thomas. I shouldnae have said that."
Thomas shook his head, biting his lip. "Nay, ye shouldnae," he said, with false brightness, "but it hardly matters. So, what happened to the other lass who was causin' ye trouble? The one ye could not get out of ye head? Was she even real?"
Dominic almost flushed again, for the second time in as many minutes.
Get a hold of yourself,he told himself fiercely. It had certainly been a mistake to open himself up to Thomas. It had happened before he knew who Paisley was, of course.
The strange, veiled lady had lingered in his memory, more so than he felt she should have done. He'd gone to Thomas for advice. Thomas' advice had been terrible, of course. He seemed to think that Dominic should go up to the woman and flirt with her, which was never going to happen.
I daenae know what I expected from him,Dominic thought, sighing to himself. Aloud, he said, "I hired her."
Thomas blinked, taken aback. "What, are ye sayin' thatPaisleyis yer mysterious, beautiful ghost?"
"I never said she was a ghost. Why would ye be so surprised, though?"
Thomas hesitated, glancing guiltily over at Paisley. "Well, she's a pretty enough lass, but ye made her sound like some sort of goddess. She's nae as pretty as Astrid, sure enough."
