"I am not, sir. But I'm sure I can help ye. What would ye like? Wine, perhaps? We have ale, whiskey..."
The man laughed softly. Behind him, subdued chatter had broken out again, with some of the more hardened drunkards concentrating on their drinks once again. Mostly, though, people were fascinated by the mysterious stranger.
Brodie included.
"I will not be drinking here, my good man," the gentleman said, with a laugh in his voice that really made Brodie feel that he wasn't laughingathim, butwithhim. "No, I am in search of somebody. It's rather urgent, you see."
Brodie swallowed. "Oh, aye? Who are ye looking for?"
"A young woman, in fact." The gentleman's clear blue eyes never blinked, and roved rapidly around the room, taking in all detailsand missing nothing. "She is remarkably pretty, with golden brown hair and blue-green eyes, very distinctive. She is English, and so should have been immediately noticed in these parts. Her name, if that helps you at all, is Paisley Burton. Of course, she may not be using her real name."
Well, Brodie knew Paisley, of course.
He opened his mouth, not sure what to say. The obvious response bubbled up to his lips – aye, of course, she works here but not right now, she's staying up at the Crown, I can show ye the way – but something about the man's unblinking stare made him nervous.
"Come, now, cat got your tongue?" the gentleman asked lightly. "I think you know something, my good man. I saw it flicker in your eyes."
Brodie shivered. He himself was no good at reading faces and was rather in awe of those who did. Some people could tell whether or not you were lying just by looking in your eyes. Marvelous.
"The t-truth is..." he stuttered, only to be interrupted.
"The truth is ye have nay right to that information," came Dominic's firm growl of a voice, and Brodie almost sagged with relief.
He backed away, letting Dominic take his place at the counter. The fine gentleman's eyes narrowed, dismissing Brodie entirely and focusing on Dominic.
"I have been told," the gentleman continued, his voice every bit as polite as before, "that the lady in question was seen here."
"Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't," Dominic retorted, resting his hands on the counter. "Ye shouldnae be looking for ladies in a place like this. Now, it's late, and this isnae a social club. Get a drink or get out."
The gentleman bristled a little at that. Brodie would have bet a month's wages that he'd never been spoken to in such a manner. He managed to collect himself at the last minute, however, flashing a tight-lipped smile.
"Of course. Thank you ever so much for you time, both of you. I'll bid you goodnight. Oh, if you did happen to see the lady in question..." he paused, glancing over at Dominic with a smile, "I shall assume you heard my description, by the way. As I was saying, would you be so kind as to contact me? I can leave my directions here."
Brodie glanced at Dominic, wide-eyed. Dominic did not smile.
"Nay," he said briskly. "If the lady dinnae leave a forwarding address for ye, she must have had a reason. Good night, then."
A sour expression flashed across the gentleman's face, quickly replaced by smooth politeness. He melted back into the crowd and left immediately, his black-suited thugs stumping after them.
Brodie let out a sigh of relief, glancing uncertainly at Dominic. He was looking after the man with a grim expression on his face, lips pursed.
"I'm glad that ye were here," Brodie said. "Who dae ye think he was? Why dae ye think he was after Paisley?"
Dominic gave a light shrug. "Yer guess is as good as mine. But as I said to him, if she wanted him to know where she was, she'd have told him. We daenae pry into people's pasts around here, Brodie." He paused, fixing him with a steely glare. "Ye werenae going to tell him where she was, were ye?"
Brodie hung his head and said nothing.
Dominic sighed. "I see. Well, daenae dae it again, aye?"
"I thought maybe he was her father. Ye know, he certainly was old enough, and English...And she does look like a lady, so..."
"Could be, could be. But she's here and nae with him, and that tells ye a great deal. That man gives me the shivers. Now, let's get cracking on these ales, shall we?"
Dominic tried – and failed – not to think about Paisley that evening. He kept thinking about the kiss, the feeling of her warm, soft body against his. He'd barely been awake when he pulled her down next to him, which made itsomewhatexcusable. He told himself again and again that it was just reflexes, she was going to touch his face, for whatever reason.
Really, though, there was no excuse for the kiss.
He was relieved that Brodie had let her go home. He wasn't sure if he could have faced her again after that. She must have been appalled.