"That's not the same. I work for you. I ought to know these things. My life doesn't impact you at all."
They were standing too close together, and Paisley couldn't remember deciding to move so close to him. There was only a hand's breadth or so of space between their bodies, and she could almost feel the heat radiating from him.
"You're making me look a fool," Paisley continued, more sharply than a hireling ought to be towards the person who paid their wages. "A laird is someone important. Back in England, a titled lord would never let anyone think..."
Suddenly, Dominic's nose was only inches from hers, his gray eyes slitted like a cat's and staring unblinking into hers.
"But ye are nae in England, are ye?" he shot back. "Ye are in the Highlands, lassie. It's different here, I can tell ye that. The rules daenae quite exist here."
Heat spiked in her stomach, and Paisley swallowed reflexively. It was suddenly hard to breathe, and she couldn't have looked away from his unblinking stare if her life had depended on it.
Abruptly, Dominic moved back, and air rushed into Paisley's lungs. She couldn't tell whether she was disappointed or relieved to have some distance between them. Either way, her quick wits had deserted her, and for once, Paisley had absolutely nothing to say.
"Ye did a good job of putting Harold at ease," he remarked, after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
Some of her anger faded away at the compliment. "All I did was fetch him some food and drink."
He shrugged. "That's what he needed. A friendly face and some practical help. It seems that practical help is what he needed from me, and I dinnae give it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that he needs a laird who gets involved, not one that stands back and lets other dae the work." Dominic shook his head with a sigh. "It's of nay matter. Daenae worry about it."
"If you need to talk about it..."
"I daenae. Listen, I brought ye out here to talk about something else. There's a Ceilidh at Keep MacLennan in a few days' time. Wear something nice, eh? Let me know if ye need a suitable gown." he added the last part almost as an afterthought.
Paisley blinked, a little befuddled. "Wait. Are you inviting me to the Ceilidh? Is this an invitation?"
Dominic rolled his eyes, not quite meeting her gaze. "Aye, that's the long and short of it. We'd be going together, mind. I'll explain more later."
"I... I don't know what to say."
"How aboutaye, Dominic, I'd like to come? Of course, if ye daenae want to, daenae feel obliged..."
"Oh, I do want to come," she said quickly. "I really do. I just... well, this is a surprise. I didn't take you as the sort of person to... to invite other people to things."
Dominic eyed her for a long time, letting the stupidity of Paisley's question hang in the air.
"Dae ye need a gown?" he said shortly.
She shook her head. "I have one that will do."
"Very well, then." Dominic turned to go, and Paisley suddenly did not want him to leave. She wanted the moment to stretch on, just the two of them in the courtyard, Dominic leaning against the stone wall of his pub and eyeing her with that slate-gray, impenetrable gaze.
It was dizzying and thrilling, more or less how Paisley had always imagined it would feel to be drunk."
"Wait!"
He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. The irrepressible eyebrow raised.
"Does this mean you aren't avoiding me anymore?" Paisley said, and immediately regretted it.
Even though she hadn'tsaidit, they were both thinking of the incident which could have led to them ignoring each other.
Namely, Dominic hugging Paisley close, kissing her, and then shoving her outside of his room and telling her never to come in again.
That was a great deal for a young lady to come to terms with, to say nothing of the fact it all happened within the space of five minutes.
