The Highlander’s Twisted Offer (The Sinner’s Pub #3)

Chapter 1

"I'll take four tankards of ale. Nay, five. Nay, six. Better make it an even number, eh?"

The man cackled, wobbling drunkenly at the bar. He was already leaning heavily on the counter to support himself, and Dominic dreaded to think of how he'd make it back to his table in that state, along with a tray of ale.

Usually, of course, the barmaid would come over to the table, all sweet, coy smiles and a fantastic knack for smoothing out disagreements. No spills, no brawls, and smiles all round.

But there was no barmaid in The Sinner pub tonight, so they were all stuck with Dominic.

He didn't much go in for sweet smiles and demure comments.

He was a practical man of action, who got things done. Things like hiring a new barmaid, for instance, even though in this situation hiring a new girl to wait on the patrons of The Sinner was proving remarkably difficult.

"Six ales, comin' right up," he responded curtly, not bothering to argue with the man about how much he'd already consumed. The man was a local whose name escaped Dominic at the moment, and so far, he was a generous, cheerful drunk with deep pockets.

Brodie appeared at Dominic's elbow.

"Somebody's vomited all down the outside wall," he muttered. "I thought I'd leave the cleanin' up to ye, seeing as it is your pub."

Dominic growled. "It's only eight o' clock in the evening. Who's drunk by now?"

"Everyone in the pub. Are ye blind, Dom?"

"Nay, I'm not. And don't call me Dom, I've told ye that."

Brodie laughed with the irrepressible confidence of a twenty-six-year-old man. "Oh aye, and what would ye like me to call ye, then? Laird MacLennan? Mister Sutherland?"

"Gods, nay. Here, take these ales over to that table there."

Brodie pouted. "I'm not a barmaid."

"Just do it, aye? That fellow's goin' to drop them all over the floor if he tries to carry them."

Dominic pushed the tray of six tankards towards Brodie, fixing him with a stare. Not many people could look Dominic in his steely gray eyes, and Brodie – round-faced, cheerful, red-haired, and easily mistaken for somebody ten years younger – was no exception.

Muttering to himself, the young man picked up the tray and strode across the crowded floor of the pub, followed by the teetering drunk.

Dominic watched Brodie go, thoughtfully putting away the money in the cash box under the counter. Had he ever been so fresh-faced and earnest? Not at twenty-six, that was for sure. Dominic was into his thirties now, with premature gray starting to streak through his brown curls.

The gray hairs were deceiving, though. Dominic was comfortably aware that he was easily as strong – if not stronger – and well-built as men five or ten years younger than him.

Coupled with his steely glare and lifelong habit of not smiling unless it was really necessary, Dominic could acknowledge that he made quite an intimidating impression on most people.

Ideal for working in a pub, really. His friends – few and far between – made jokes about how serious and grim Dominic could be, although they weren't really jokes.

Well, that was their prerogative. The three of them – Dominic, Thomas, and Colby – had all started up The Sinner together, but now the other two were all caught up with their wives and their children, leaving Dominic to handle most of the day-to-day running of the pub.

It was just as well that he was so serious and hardworking.

Wives and lovers take up a lot of time and energy, Dominic told himself firmly. I daenae have time.

That didn't stop him holding his breath when a woman pushed her way through the crowd. Then he got a good look at her and deflated a little.

No, it wasn't her. Or Her, as Dominic had privately taken to calling her.

He knew all of the regulars, of course. Mostly men, but there were some women among the crowd. Some were local lasses, keen to relax after a long day at work. There were a few ladies of ill repute, or whatever you wanted to call them.

Dominic didn't mind those women. They were astute and business-like, and more than happy to pay him a modest commission for customers they collected in his pub. He knew them all, and they'd chosen this work, so he didn't see it as his business to intervene.

Sometimes, Thomas' wife came down here to work as a healer.

She was a proper lady now that she'd married Thomas, but she wasn't afraid to get down and dirty with the common people.

She was a good healer, too. Dominic liked her, albeit reluctantly.

She was a good match for flighty Thomas, and he adored her.

Brodie broke into his thoughts, leaning forward over the bar.

"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 he didn't recognize 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 give that for 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.

"Get out of me pub," Dominic said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

The man grinned, revealing black and yellow teeth, and pursed his lips to spit, this time right on the counter.

Dominic's arm flashed out, catching the man around the head and bringing his face down to hit the counter with a crash.

There were a few gasps and shrieks, and Ava started to sidle away.

The man gave a startled, muffled cry and tried to pull away, but Dominic held him tight, fingers digging into the back of his neck.

"This is me pub," he hissed, "and ye follow me rules. Got it? Everyone in here knows that. There arenae many rules, but the number one rule is that ye dae as I say. Dae ye want to guess what number two is?"

A whimper was his only reply.

"Rule number two is that ye don't spit in me pub."

Dominic yanked the man up by his collar, rounding the bar and dragging him towards the exit. The man's nose was bleeding, gushing down his face and soaking into his shirt, and he'd gone mostly limp. The crowd parted like magic to let him through.

"I've never been treated this way in a pub," the man managed to say, obviously not knowing when to shut his mouth and just accept what was happening. "Never. Ye should be ashamed to treat customers this way."

"A hundred men just like ye traipse in and out of me door every evenin'," Dominic replied tartly. "I can stand to lose one or two of ye. I gave ye a warnin', lad."

"I've never been treated this way!"

Dominic paused in the doorway, ready to toss the man out onto the filthy cobblestones of the courtyard. He leaned down to smile thinly in the man's face, enjoying how the drunkard tried to pull away, despite being held tightly in Dominic's vice-like grip. And then, he let go.

"Aye, well, welcome to The Sinner."