"Oh," she managed, rather underwhelmingly.
"Go and see to the other patrons, Brodie," Dominic said, his voice a low rasp.
A tired chuckle brought her attention back to the stranger. He had his eyes closed, and it was shocking to see how sunken-in his eyes were in his skull.
"Ye dinnae know, eh?" the man said, still chuckling. "Everyone knows Laird MacLennan in these parts."
"That's enough," Dominic grated, eyeing the man.
"Well, I do know him," Paisley said, recovering, and turning her gaze back to the old man. "I just didn't know he waslairdanything. What is your name, by the way? I'm Paisley."
"Harold. Me name is Harold."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harold. I'll fetch you some food and water. You look half starved."
Harold's eyes flew open, and at first, Paisley saw only a primal hunger at the mention of food. Then the expression calmed, replaced by a simmering anxiety.
"It's quite all right, lassie. I've nay coin to pay for it."
"It's on the house." Paisley said primly, shaking out her apron. She had no idea whether she would be allowed to do this, but the man was clearly starving to death. If Dominic took exception to this, he could always take the cost of the food out of her wages. He was right there, so he could speak up if he disagreed.
He didn't speak up, and Paisley decided not to give him time to change his mind. Leaving the man slumped by the fire, she hurried into the kitchen, carefully not looking back at Dominic.
She was sure thathewas looking ather, though. She could feel his eyes burning into the space between her shoulder blades as she retreated, like a tickle against her skin.
Stop it,she scolded herself.Now that you're in the kitchen, you'd better cool down, my girl.
It was a small, serviceable space. They did serve food, but drink was mostly the order of the day atTheSinner. The pantry was well stocked, and there were plenty of options available to make a quick, easy-to-eat meal.
Nothing too complex,Paisley thought, ignoring the sweet pastries and pies on the first shelf. If the man was as hungry as she suspected he was, too much food or anything too rich would make him ill.
She selected an apple, polishing it up against her apron, a slice of bread and butter, a large piece of cold chicken, and some jam. There would be more food if he could stomach it later, but for now this would do. She snatched up a glass of milk and a tankard of pale, watered ale.
She scurried out of the kitchen carrying the food on a tray, and very nearly collided with Dominic and Brodie.
"Who's that food for, Paisley?" Brodie demanded, head popping out from behind Dominic's broad shoulder. His tone suggested that he knewexactlywho the food was for and did not approve one bit.
Paisley felt color rushing to her cheeks, but kept her head tilted up and her gaze level.
"It's for that man – Harold – in there. He's starving. He needs food and drink."
"I thought I said..." Brodie began.
"Good thinkin', Paisley," Dominic interrupted. "I'm glad ye thought to do this. Ye have done well. But maybe ye should hurry. The old man's getting' dizzy on me."
Brodie bit his lip. Paisley resisted the urge to throw a triumphant smile his way. She moved past them into the main part of the pub, and Harold sat bolt upright at the sight of her and the food.
He fell upon it greedily, but before he could even take the first bite, his eye fell on Dominic.
Harold set aside the tray at once, and leaped up, making a wobbly bow.
"Laird, I..."
"Sit down," Dominic said brusquely. "Go on, sit. Ye can eat and talk, can ye nae?"
Harold wavered, but only for a minute. He sat back down with a thump and began to munch his way through the food.
Dominic took the empty armchair opposite and watched Harold curiously.
