Chapter 13
ACeilidh, Paisley discovered throughout the rest of the evening, was a dance. Or rather, a gathering at which there might be dancing, and music, and drinks.
The patrons of The Sinner were all too happy to enlighten her, although Paisley was careful not to breathe a word about why she wanted to know.
One of the older, drunker patrons leaped to his feet and announced that he would show Paisley exactly what Ceilidh dancing was.
Before she could protest, he swept her up in his arms and dragged her round and round the floor in what could only be described as a wild, drunken jig.
The other patrons roared and clapped, laughing and shouting encouragement.
A group of overdressed ladies of the night began to clap in time, laughing between themselves, and Paisley found herself laughing, too. They rocketed through the crowd, bumping into people, and it was almost disappointing when the patron staggered to a halt.
Grinning, he made a deep bow and a flourish, and Paisley returned a deep, elegant curtsey, which was received with more laughter and vigorous applause.
"Give over, Rabbie!" Dominic said, shouldering his way through the crowd. "Leave the poor lass alone."
Rabbie laughed, holding up his hands. "Don't worry, lassie, I have granddaughters the same age as ye, so ye are safe from me. I hope ye know a wee bit more about Ceilidh dancing now."
Paisley stiffened a little, glancing nervously at Dominic. He gave no indication of having heard the comment about Ceilidh dancing, and jerked his head to indicate that she should return to her work.
"Ye are too hard on the new lass, Dom." She heard Rabbie say, his voice lower.
"She needs the help. She's learnin', and I daenae wish to see harm come to her. Now, Rabbie, better peel yer son away from the bar. We all know he's a nasty drunk, and I'll have to cut him off soon."
She didn't hear the rest, since the crowd closed in around them. Paisley fought her way behind the bar, and started filling orders – endless tankards of ale, pots of frothy beer, and a few sparkling glasses of brandy or whiskey. Her hand was perfectly healed by now, thanks to Emma.
Brodie was in charge of taking the orders across the floor now, since he was better suited to elbow his way through the crowd. So, when a new customer appeared, Paisley was alone behind the counter.
"Well, aren't ye a sight for sore eyes?" the man said, grinning to reveal few teeth and blackened gums. He was around thirty-five, balding, with a scalp shining with sweat, a strongly-built body from a lifetime of farm laboring, and a general unwashed odor about him.
Paisley forced a smile. She had to be polite, after all.
"What can I get you, sir?"
"Ooh, sir. I like that. Ye can call me sir any time ye like, lassie."
There was some sort of implication there that she didn't like.
"Beer?" she tried. "Or ale?"
"Ale, lass. And daenae skimp. Ye will feel the back of me hand if it's all head and nay liquor."
Paisley flinched at that. The man was smiling, but somehow it didn't feel like a joke. She didn't smile this time, concentrating instead on pulling the man's ale and pushing the drink across the bar towards him.
He paid immediately, flicking a coin in her direction. Paisley missed the catch, and the man snorted with laughter as she scrabbled on the floor.
The man stayed leaning against the bar, eyes following her. He drank down his ale in three large swallows and gestured that she should fetch him another.
Rabbie appeared behind the man, glancing nervously at Paisley. All trace of his previous good humor was gone.
"Come on, Tam, time to go. Help an old man home, wouldnae ye?"
He laid a hand on Tam's broad shoulder, but the younger man shrugged it away irritably.
"Leave it, Da. I'm staying here."
"Ye have had enough, Tam."
"Mind yer own business."
"If ye drink much more," Rabbie continued, his voice dropping, "Ye will get mean. We all know it. Come on, lad. Be sensible."
"Get lost, Da, or I'll put yer lights out."
Paisley sucked in a breath at that. She'd never heard a man speak that way to his father before, not ever. Rabbie had gone white and backed away like he'd been burned. He glanced helplessly at her and shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm sorry, lass. Tell Dom I tried, will ye nae?"
Before she could say another word, Rabbie melted back into the crowd. He didn't return.
Paisley was kept busy, serving drinks and exchanging banter with some of the patrons. Brodie appeared every now and then, tray empty, and requested another dozen or so drinks.
Tam stayed where he was, though. He drank steadily, eyes on Paisley, and occasionally ordered another one.
Towards midnight, the crowd started to thin, and the requests for drinks started to taper off. Brodie stared at Tam at one point and leaned over to whisper in Paisley's ear.
"Daenae serve him any more drinks."
Before Paisley could ask how on earth she was supposed to do such a thing, Brodie was gone, leaving her alone again.
On cue, Tam tapped the counter to get her attention, indicating that he should get another drink.
Paisley drew in a breath.
You can do this, she told herself, and slipped along the counter to face Tam.
"I'm afraid that's all," she said lightly.
Tam's expression hardened. "I beg yer pardon?"
She cleared her throat. "We... we're closing."
Tam held out his arms. "Well, there's plenty of people still in here. If I want a drink, lass, ye get me one, eh?"
Drawing in a breath, Paisley tilted her chin up. "I think you've had enough, sir. I'm sorry."
For a second, confusion flashed over Tam's face, as if he wasn't used to hearing that sort of thing.
The confusion was quickly followed by rage.
"I'll give ye once last chance, ye wee wench." he said conversationally. "Fetch me an ale and say, 'I'm sorry, sir, for being such a cheeky wee sow', and all will be forgiven."
Paisley clenched her jaw. "No."
Tam's brawny arm shot out before she even knew what was happening.
He grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully and hauling her forward over the counter.
The hard wood of the counter dug into her, forming a sharp, unforgiving line along her hips, and Paisley's feet didn't quite touch the floor.
Her face was inches away from Tam's, and his breath stank.
Her squeak of pain was more or less lost in the crowd, and Paisley felt the first pang of real fear.
"I've been watching ye," Tam muttered, his voice low and menacing. "Pretty thing, aren't ye? I daresay it's a long way home from here, in the dark and all. I was going to offer ye company."
"No, thank you." Paisley hissed. "Let go of me at once, or I'll scream."
"Scream and I'll break yer wrist."
Tam flexed his meaty hand around her wrist to make his point, and Paisley felt bones grind together. She paled but wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a cry of pain.
"Let. Go."
"Oh, nay, lass. I'm nae even getting started. Ye and I are going to have fun tonight, I just know it."
She looked him dead in the eyes and forced herself not to flinch.
"Go to hell." Paisley said clearly.
Tam's eyes narrowed, and his grip on her wrist began to tighten.
Everything happened quickly after that.
Tam seemed to be launched backwards by an unseen force, his grip on Paisley's wrist ripped away. The momentum carried her forward a little, and she found herself balanced ungainly on her stomach, on top of the counter.
The crowd parted as if by magic, everyone craning their necks to look down at Tam, lying on his back on the floor.
It was Dominic, of course. He stood between Tam and the counter, watching the man on the floor with an impassive gaze.
"Ye should have left when Rabbie told ye, Tam." Dominic said, his voice sharp as iron.
Tam wheezed out an obscenity, rolling onto all fours, then stumbling to his feet. He lurched towards Dominic, fists windmilling.
Paisley barely had time to worry about Dominic getting struck, it was over so fast. Dominic dodged the clumsy blows, then landed a single, cracking punch to the side of Tam's head. Then, when Tam was groaning on the floor, he delivered a neat, well-thought-out kick to the man's abdomen.
Dominic sighed and shook his head, staring down at Tam.
"Ye should have just gone home, Tam. Now ye are banned, ye hear me? Banned." He bent down, seizing him by the collar, and hauled him effortlessly to his feet.
Or rather, almost. Tam flailed, trying to get his legs underneath him, and was half-dragged, half-carried to the door. Dominic tossed him out, and there was faint applause when Tam landed face-first in a muddy puddle.
Dominic turned to face the now silent patrons.
"Out," he said decisively. "Everyone out. Night's over."
People scrambled to obey, downing the last of their drinks and rushing to pay their tab. Within ten minutes, there was only Dominic, Brodie, and Paisley left in the pub.
Dominic crossed the floor, eyeing Paisley up and down.
"Are ye all right, lass?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for helping me."
He gave a short nod and turned on Brodie. "Why did ye not help her? Eh?"
Brodie went beet red, stammering, and Paisley chipped in.
"It's not his fault."
"Oh, nay? From where I was standing, he stood there like a fool."
"I think Tam would have hurt him. Besides, it all happened so quickly."
Dominic gave a grunt and turned to clear away some empty tankards from a table. Brodie cast her a quick, grateful glance, and Paisley smiled.
"Brodie, ye can go home early." Dominic said, not turning around. "I want a word with Paisley."
Brodie's eyes widened, glancing at Paisley questioningly. She shrugged, then nodded.
Stay calm, she told herself. Nerves were simmering in her gut, and that ache was back, stronger than ever.
He probably just wants to tell me off about something, Paisley thought. That's all. Nothing to worry about.
Dominic didn't speak until the pub was cleaned and swept, the glasses, tankards, and mugs all cleaned and polished.