"Ava wants another ale on account. A watery one, she said."
Dominic stifled a sigh. Ava, a stunning young woman with red-gold hair and a contagious laugh, was another regular. He could see her in the corner, deep in conversation with some man or another. The man wore a hat pulled low over his eyes, and his collar was turned up. He probably thought he was being discreet, not realizing that everyone was staring at him because of it.
Ava didn't like to drink to excess, but of course she couldn't spend this long in a pub and not drink, so Dominic gave her a special price for tankards of ale that were more water than anything else. She claimed that was how she avoided hangovers, while seeming to match her customers drink for drink.
That was probably cheating, but Dominic didn't much care about that. Her accounts usually ran long, but she always paid them promptly. She could be trusted, and that was a vital quality in Dominic's opinion. If you couldn't trust a person, what was the point in even looking their way, let alone befriending them?
"Aye, I'll do that," Dominic replied, moving over to the barrels of ale.
"Do ye want me to ask Ava about yer mystery lady? Find out once and for all if she's real or if we're bein' haunted after all?" he chuckled at his own joke.
Dominic bit his lip. Telling Brodie about the girl he'd seen was a mistake. Brodie – who wouldn't notice his own nose unless it was pointed out to him – had never seen the girl, and teased Dominic incessantly about being in love with a ghost.
That was ridiculous, of course. Dominic had only noticed her in the first place because hedidn'trecognize her, and he knew everyone else in the pub by sight. And, of course, she was dressed strangely. He'd described her in detail to Brodie, a little shocked at how keenly he'd remembered the woman.
She was veiled, that was the first thing he noticed, and that was strange in itself. Not a full veil, but one that just about covered half of her face, the ragged ends of the opaque black material just tickling her upper lip. She wore a lumpy, old-fashioned hat under the veil, giving her head an odd shape.
He couldn't see what color her hair was, or anything else about her face. She had a sharp jawline and a delicately pointed chin. That and her full, bow-shaped lips made Dominic think of a pixie, and then immediately wonder why on earth he was being so foolish.
Ye are not a man given to fancies,he lectured himself.She's just a woman who doesn't want to be recognized, and ye can bet that she is up to nay good.
The woman wore a heavy dress, a muddy sort of brown that Dominic had never seen on any of the local women. She wore gloves too, black gloves tucked neatly into the cuffs of her gown. She glided about the pub as if she wasn't even walking, just hovering.
Maybe it is a ghost,Dominic thought, allowing himself a tiny smile at that idea. As if he'd summoned her, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and his gaze was drawn up towards the door. A cool blast of night air swirled through the pub, and there she was, silhouetted for an instant in the doorway. Gown, gloves, veil, and all.
Dominic watched her glide across the floor and decided that she couldn't possibly be a ghost. What ghost would need to zigzag across a crowded floor like that? A few people glanced at her, too. Men, mostly, whose eyes slid down her form in search of exposed, tantalizing skin, and turned away, disinterested.
Fools, Dominic thought, amused. They were all idiots. It was clear that the mystery woman was staggeringly beautiful – he'd have betted his savings on it. Her figure was enticing, even under that ugly gown. Dominic eyed the curves of her hips and bosom as she slipped by, unable to tear his gaze away. He felt the familiar ache of arousal in his gut, and pointedly turned his back.
Calm down, ye see ladies with their bosoms on display almost every night, and that doesnae bother ye,he chastised himself.I'm sure ye can handle one masked woman.
When he glanced back up, the mystery woman was gone.
Maybe she'd headed to the back rooms, where men were allowed to play cards so long as they stayed quiet and kept the stakes at a reasonable level.
Dinnae even buy a drink,Dominic thought, piqued.
He set Ava's watery ale on the counter and glanced around. Brodie had disappeared, and Ava herself appeared to pick it up.
"Thanks, Dominic. Can ye make it two, actually? The second one just a real tankard of ale," she said, flashing him a smile. It was a decidedly different smile to the coy, flirtatious ones she usually used. Dominic was comfortably aware that Ava was not interested in him in the slightest, and that was an arrangement that suited them both perfectly. He almost considered her a friend.
He was about to speak when a burly man, a farm laborer in all probability, lurched forward.
"Why are ye taking the order of this wee wench before an honest man like me, eh?" he grated.
Dominic levelled him with a stare. "Because she was here before ye. And don't use that language."
The man sneered. "And why shouldnae I?"
"Because I said so."
The man - Dominic briefly recognized him as John, or James, or Jimmy, or something like that – hawked and spat on the floor.
While the noise level in the pub didn't drop, exactly, the people close enough to see what John/James/Jimmy did went dead silent. Ava's eyes widened, and Dominic went very still.
"And I givethatfor what ye say," the man grated, unaware of the change in atmosphere. "Now get me an ale."
Dominic placed both of his hands flat on the counter, pulling himself up to his full height. The man was shorter than him, but considerably broader. That meant nothing, of course, but this man didn't seem to realize this. He sized Dominic up with open contempt, making a chewing movement. He was intending to spit again, no doubt.