"Nae really," Dominic found himself saying. "I only wanted to stop a fight breakin' out in me pub. Nae good for business to have people murdered here."
The woman snorted. "I should have known."
She turned to go, and he heard something clinking. Coins, probably. She'd obviously got her earnings, then.
"What's yer name, then?"
She paused, glancing back over her shoulder. "Why do you want to know?"
"Nae a lot of English lassies around here."
"You'll remember me well enough, then. You don't need my name."
She hurried up the stairs without waiting for a reply. Dominic found himself standing in the basement, listening to her retreating footsteps. It was entirely possible that the men might be lying in wait for her, but if she regularly came to places like this, maybe she was prepared for something like that.
Why the veil? Why all the secrecy?he wondered, scratching the back of his head.
It would have been better if she'd turned out to be ugly, then he could stop thinking about her. He was a grown man, for God's sake, not a teenage boy to flutter and fawn over a pretty face.
Dominic's eye fell on a scrap of dark fabric by his feet. Her gloves lay there, and he picked them up. It was good material. Kid gloves, if he wasn't mistaken. Expensive.
I'd better give them back,he thought, not sure if he was annoyed or thrilled at the prospect. Dominic mounted the stairs two at a time, and stepped out into the crowded pub.
There was no sign of her. He spotted the card players clustered in the corner, drinking tankards of ale and grousing about their bad luck. So, they hadn't pursued her, then. That was something. But she was gone.
She cannae have gone far, though,Dominic thought, and bit his lip.Ah, damn it all.
"Brodie," Dominic said, slapping the counter loudly enough to make the poor man jump. "Watch the bar for me, will ye?"
"Where are ye going?" Brodie asked, blinking.
"None of your business. I probably willnae be long."
And then Dominic darted out into the cold night, in pursuit of a woman whose face he'd only seen once.
Marvelous.
She hadn't gone far. The area aroundTheSinnerwas well lit – it was bad for business to have patrons wandering home drunk and falling into the river – and he could see her just up ahead, hurrying down the forest path.
Dominic didn't run to catch up with her. She was running, but not fast, and he could easily maintain the distance between them. There were several paths to take around the pub.
The most commonly used path wound around the forest and headed back into town. It was wide and well-used, and in dry weather torches flickered at intervals to light the way. The paththat the English girl had chosen went into the depths of the forest.
There were no torches here, with only the fickle, silvery moonlight to illuminate the uneven path. It was a narrow track, with trees and undergrowth encroaching on either side.
She kept glancing back nervously over her shoulder, as if she were afraid of being followed.
She should be afraid,Dominic thought, aggrieved.Look how easy it is for me to follow her. Imagine if she were being followed by some madman.
He would think about the irony of that later on.
Could she see him? He didn't think so. She sped up, almost imperceptibly, and Dominic had to lengthen his stride to keep up with her.
Where was she going? There were houses on the other side of the forest, including the infamous Crown inn. Did she stay there?
Abruptly, the woman broke into a run. The path curved sharply around, and for a moment she was hidden from sight. Cursing himself, Dominic broke into a jog. He rounded the corner with a little less care than he should have done and found himself with a hatpin levelled at his face. It was inches from his nose and looked extremely sharp.
"Why are you following me?" the English girl demanded. "Why can't you leave me alone?"
