Dominic turned to face the now silent patrons.
"Out," he said decisively. "Everyone out. Night's over."
People scrambled to obey, downing the last of their drinks and rushing to pay their tab. Within ten minutes, there was only Dominic, Brodie, and Paisley left in the pub.
Dominic crossed the floor, eyeing Paisley up and down.
"Are ye all right, lass?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for helping me."
He gave a short nod and turned on Brodie. "Why did ye not help her? Eh?"
Brodie went beet red, stammering, and Paisley chipped in.
"It's not his fault."
"Oh, nay? From where I was standing, he stood there like a fool."
"I think Tam would have hurt him. Besides, it all happened so quickly."
Dominic gave a grunt and turned to clear away some empty tankards from a table. Brodie cast her a quick, grateful glance, and Paisley smiled.
"Brodie, ye can go home early." Dominic said, not turning around. "I want a word with Paisley."
Brodie's eyes widened, glancing at Paisley questioningly. She shrugged, then nodded.
Stay calm,she told herself. Nerves were simmering in her gut, and that ache was back, stronger than ever.
He probably just wants to tell me off about something,Paisley thought.That's all. Nothing to worry about.
Dominic didn't speak until the pub was cleaned and swept, the glasses, tankards, and mugs all cleaned and polished.
It was almost unbearable. Paisley's heart hammered nonstop, and she could think of nothing but the other man. It was the strangest thing. She'd never been sopreoccupiedwith a man like this. There were plenty of handsome men in English Society, of course, butthiswas something else.
"Did he hurt ye?" Dominic broke the silence first, making her jump.
"Hm?"
"That man, Tam. Did he hurt ye?"
Paisley rested her broom against the counter, then leaned against it herself. Her back was aching. She pulled back her sleeve to inspect the livid marks on her wrist. Already, the soft underside of her arm bore smudgy purple bruises shaped like fingers. She winced.
"I'm fine. A few bruises, but nothing more. Is that man violent towards his father?"
Dominic was right in front of her then, close enough for her to smell spilled ale and crushed grass coming off his clothes, close enough to take her wrist in his, inspecting the marks.
"Aye, but nae for much longer," Dominic said thoughtfully. "Something needs to be done about Tam. These marks look painful. Shall I summon Emma to make ye up a salve?"
Paisley shook her head. "No, thank you. She's such a skilled healer, and I should hate to take her away from somebody who really needs her services. They're just bruises, and they'll heal on her own."
She should really draw her hand back from Dominic's grip. Although, grip wasn't the right word. He was holding her hand, palm up, in his, but his hold on her was slack and gentle. She could move away at any time. The fingers of his other hand were wavering near the marks on her wrist, as if they didn't quite dare touch.
"Ye are always thinkin' of others, arenae ye?" Dominic murmured, almost to himself. "I daenae think I've ever met anyone so kind."
Color rushed to her face, and she shook her head. "I'm not special."
"I think we disagree on that one."
