Chapter 5 #2
"Pardon me, Dominic?" she said lightly, more aware than ever of how jarring and out of place her accent must sound here. "I'm here."
Dominic glanced at her over his shoulder, his expression impassive.
"Ye are late."
Paisley blinked. "Late? I... I don't think that I am."
The dark-haired man chuckled. "Aye, ye arenae late. Dom here is just trying to put ye on the wrong foot."
Dominic shot him a sour look. "Ye can stay out of this, Thomas. Pay him nay mind, lassie. Now, ye wait there, and I'll find ye some work to do."
Paisley nodded, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. She glanced around the pub, taking in the state of the place. It seemed that instead of staying extra late to clean up after a long night, Dominic simply cleaned up in the morning.
Or rather, she would be cleaning up in the morning. The floors needed a good sweep, and ideally scrubbing, too. Not that Paisley was going to volunteer to scrub unless she had to. She picked at the hem of her gown, wondering whether the lace would be a bad idea after all.
In the cold, unforgiving light of day, the pub looked shabbier than ever. Cobwebs clustered in the corners of the ceiling – she would need a duster tied to the end of a stick to reach that– and the windows were in need of a good clean.
With freshly cleaned windows, the light in the place would be cleaner and clearer. She eyed the mezzanine – or whatever the equivalent of a mezzanine was in a place like this – hanging above the bar. There were rooms up there, but they were strictly out of bounds to patrons.
Feeling eyes on her, Paisley glanced up to find the dark-haired man – Thomas, was it? – staring at her curiously.
"Ye must be the new hirelin', then," he said casually. "Dominic said he needed someone to replace Astrid, but he's been puttin' it off for a while, I think."
"Astrid? That was her name, then?" Paisley asked, as casually as she could. She still didn't know exactly what Astrid had done to be dismissed so sharply and was keen not to repeat the same mistake. Had she dropped ale over somebody important, perhaps?
"Leave her alone," Dominic said curtly.
Thomas ignored him. "I'm meeting me wife here in an hour or so. Ye ought to meet her."
Paisley blinked. This was unexpected. Was she making friends already?
"She'll have nay time to meet Emma," Dominic snapped, setting down two tankards of ale with twin sharp cracks. "She will be working. Paisley, grab a broom and sweep this floor. Quick as ye like."
"Yes, of course. I'll get started right away." Paisley said, trying not to flinch at his sharp tone – or worse, talk back. She needed to stay bright and energetic. She needed to prove that she was a good choice to work here.
Paisley allowed herself only one moment of regret for her pretty lavender dress, then snatched up the broom and got to work.
There was something soothing about the regular, rhythmic motion of sweeping a wood floor.
The floor of The Sinner wasn't truly filthy, but certainly needed a good clean.
She was as thorough as possible, carefully sweeping around the feet of the drunks in the corner.
They eyed her dumbly, and one of them was kind enough to lift his boots to let her sweep underneath.
When Paisley straightened her aching back and rested the broom back up against the wall where she had found it, there was a certain sense of satisfaction in the sight.
There was a great deal more to be done to get The Sinner looking shipshape again – or would it be pub-shape?
– but this was certainly a step in the right direction.
She shook the dust off her apron and turned expectantly towards Dominic.
He was watching her, and she felt the strangest certainty that he hadn't stopped looking at her.
Nonsense, she scolded herself. Don't be so foolish.
When their eyes met, Dominic gave himself a little shake, as if waking up from a reverie. His face was as grim and set as before. Did the man ever smile?
No, he had, she was sure of it – although it had been during their conversation in the middle of the forest last night, when it was too dark to read his expression properly.
She hurried across the floor towards him, smiling hopefully. Mama had always said that a smile was the most powerful weapon in a lady's arsenal. She almost certainly hadn't meant this particular situation.
She'd probably imagined her daughter seducing some powerful lord or duke, or charming said lord or duke's haughty and disapproving parents.
She almost certainly hadn't imagined her daughter working as a barmaid in a seedy pub, using her charming smile to ingratiate herself with an employer that did not seem to like her very much at all.
After all, he'd only agreed to hire her in exchange for her not fleecing his patrons out of all their money at cards.
Dominic seemed entirely unmoved by the smile.
"Ye missed a spot," he said bluntly, pointing to a dusty corner near the door.
Paisley's smile wavered but did not drop.
"I beg your pardon," she said smoothly. "I shall remedy that immediately."
She hurried away, snatching up the broom as she went. Behind her, she clearly heard Thomas say, "Ah, give the lass a rest, Dom! She's done a fine job."
"She missed a spot," Dominic insisted. "I'm nae charity."
Paisley bit her lip and set about sweeping the errant line of dust out of her door.
Not a very auspicious start, she thought to herself, but all in all, it could have been worse.