"Thomas!"
He lifted his palms in surrender. "I may nae like the woman, but I have to give credit where credit is due."
"Well, do ye think Astrid is more beautiful than Emma?"
Thomas snorted. "Of course not! The two can't even compare!"
"Then that's exactly how..." Dominic floundered, suddenly aware that he wasn't making the point he'd intended to make. He fell silent, and Thomas thankfully did not push the issue. He glanced over at Paisley, who was now cleaning the windowpanes with a surprising fervor.
It seemed ridiculous that Thomas thought she wasnotas beautiful as Astrid. Dominic knew that the previous barmaid was certainly a well-featured and full-figured woman, generally considered bonnie, but there was an inner light around Paisley. Sometimes tantalizing, a sort of magnetic field that made a personhaveto look at her. Something magical.
Was he really the only one who could see it?
Dominic gave himself a little shake, determinedly pulling two tankards of ale, one for himself and one for Thomas.
He didn't often say it, but he certainly needed a drink.
Paisley privately thought that she was doing extremely well. The pub was clean and cobweb-free, and she'd even been able to do a little light dusting. At Thomas' insistence, - who one of thepatrons had called "me laird" - she had sat down to a light meal of bread, cheese, and cold chicken, which she consumed eagerly.
At around four o' clock, more people began to filter into the pub. Candles were lit, fresh bottles and barrels of alcohol were produced, and Paisley started to work a little harder.
"Here," Dominic said, pushing a tray of ale tankards towards her. "Give this tothem," he nodded towards a table of young men and women, all talking and laughing between themselves.
In a rush of panic, Paisley realized that she was going to spend a great deal of her time interacting with men. It would be different to the card tables, where no small talk or friendliness was required.
Everyone was focused on their own hand of cards and trying to figure out everyone else's. Back home, being inmixed companywas a tricky thing. It was vulgar and entirely inappropriate for ladies to push themselves on the notice of gentlemen.
Paisley was used to parties where men and women were discreetly but determinedly segregated. There wererules. Ladies didn't go up to talk to the men. Men could approach the women, but with extreme politeness and discernment. One wrong move could lead to a forced engagement and subsequent wedding.
The table Dominic had pointed out seemed different. Very different. None of the women were ladies of the night, as far as Paisley could tell. They were dressed simply and modestly,for comfort and practicality rather than allure. They rested their elbows confidently on the table, joining in with the chatter.
"Are they all friends?" Paisley heard herself say.
Dominic lifted an eyebrow. "I believe so. Two of them are betrothed, and another two are likely to be betrothed soon. They're just friends, local kids. Why?"
She gave herself a little shake. "Oh, no reason. They just seem so happy in each other's company, that's all. Not like the parties back home, where everyone was having a horrible time but pretending otherwise."
She knew at once that she'd said too much. Dominic gave her a long, slow look, curious and assessing. Flushing, Paisley snatched up the tray and turned to pick her way across the crowded floor.
The tray was heavier than she'd expected, but she was able to keep it steady enough that the ale didn't slop over the side. People laughed at her expression of concentration as she went by, moving out of her way. She shot a few half-smiles at them and received a few cheers in response.
The mixed group applauded when she set the tray down.
"Well done, lassie!" someone cheered.
"Ye smile a lot more than the last one ever did!" laughed another person.
Paisley grinned, and swept down into a deep, elegant curtsy.
Nowthatwas something she could do well.
There was more applause at the curtsy, and people laughed uproariously, slapping their knees. Beaming, Paisley turned to skip back to the counter, but one of the women grabbed her wrist, pulling her back to press a coin into her hand.
"This is for ye, lassie!" she said, laughing. "Ye deserve it!"
Paisley hurried back to Dominic and the counter, not daring to look at the coin. She opened her palm, blinking at the shiny two pence piece looking back up at her.
"Look at what she gave me!" Paisley said, her voice hushed. "Ought I give it back?"
