Chapter 14
Dominic woke with a start. The room was dark, and he was in his bed as usual, but something was off.
For a split second, he thought that last night – what he and Paisley had done together – was just a vivid, cruel dream, and he was about to wake alone once again.
Then the warm body in his arms shifted and mumbled something in her sleep, and everything came back to him in a rush.
He and Paisley had gone no further than kissing and touching last night, which was more than enough. He'd guessed, correctly as it turned out, that she was a virgin, and it was never a good idea to rush these things.
It had been far too late to even contemplate the idea of letting her walk home in the dark, even if her legs hadn't turned to jelly by the time they were done. It had seemed entirely natural, at the time, to go upstairs together, hand in hand, and curl up on Dominic's office bed.
On further reflection, the bed was certainly not big enough for two people. It was barely big enough for Dominic. At the moment, he was pressed against the wall, the cold stone digging into his shoulder blades, Paisley's elbow in his ribs, and her hair in his face, tickling his nose.
I don't care, he thought with a start, tightening his arm around her waist. I just want her with me.
This was a shocking revelation. Dominic wasn't entirely sure what to do with these new feelings, or even where they'd come from.
In the past, any unwanted feelings had been easy enough to stamp down upon. If he felt himself becoming attached to somebody unsuitable, or somebody who wasn't available for one reason or another, he simply lectured himself severely out of those feelings. And then they just... went away.
This time, it wasn't working.
This isn't appropriate, Dominic told himself. She works for ye. It isn't fair. She's English, she's unpredictable, she has a past which she's not sharing with anybody. This isn't right.
It didn't matter. The small part of his brain that clung onto logic was speedily being shunted aside by the rest of him, which was keener than ever to keep Paisley close.
He remembered conversations he'd had with Thomas, when he was falling in love with Emma. He remembered his friend pacing the floor, wild-eyed and frustrated.
"She doesnae like me," he'd said, more to himself than anyone else. "She's a healer. Nothin' could happen. Delphine – that's the chief healer, by the way, Dom – would tear me head off if I went near her. But I cannae stop feelin' this way. Why can I nae stop feeling this way?"
Dominic had had no answers for his friend back then, and he had no answers for himself now. He only knew that he wanted Paisley here, with him, for as long as possible. He wanted her to be his. She already was his.
He lifted an apprehensive hand, smoothing back her disordered hair from her forehead, tucking it behind her ears.
Paisley shifted under his touch, and he saw her eyes flick open, glittering in the dark. Confusion swept over her face, and she flailed her way into a sitting position.
"Where... where am I? No, never mind, I remember where I am. Um... ah."
She glanced down at Dominic, and even in the dark, he could tell that she was blushing furiously. She remembered everything that had happened last night, then.
Dominic propped himself up onto one elbow, watching her.
"How are ye feeling?"
"Surprisingly good."
"Surprisingly?"
"Well, I had less sleep than usual, and not in my own bed, so I ought to feel a little worse for wear this morning. But I don't."
Dominic nodded slowly, still watching her. She was fidgeting, glancing around with barely disguised curiosity. Before he could ask her what she was thinking, she spoke again.
He should have known. Paisley couldn't stay quiet for two minutes together. Dominic suppressed a smile.
"Should I have gone before you woke up? After all, last time we kissed, you avoided me for a whole day."
Dominic sat up, frowning. He leaned past her to light to candle he kept beside his bed, filling the room with a warm, buttery glow. It was about five o' clock, by his estimation, and the sky was gray with the oncoming dawn.
"What are ye talkin' about?"
Paisley drew in a breath, a sure sign that she was about to embark on a lengthy speech, for which she would need plenty of breath.
"Well, the thing is – and I suspect you've already guessed this – but I haven't done this sort of thing before. Ladies don't, back home, you see. Or if they do, they don't stay ladies for very long..."
"Only if they're caught." Dominic pointed out.
Paisley considered this. "I suppose you're right.
The thing is, I learned about... well, everything regarding what men and women do together from my nursemaid.
I was very fond of her, and she was rather a daring woman.
She told me, once or twice, about, uh, meetings she'd had with gentlemen, not unlike this, and she always mentioned creeping out before they woke up.
I daresay there's a great many unwritten rules for this sort of thing, and I'm afraid I don't know any of them. "
Dominic tried not to laugh. "Yer nursemaid sounds like an interestin' woman."
"Oh, she is. Of course, all those stories were from her youth, not from when she was raising me."
"Unless she just kept those other, more recent stories from ye." Dominic pointed out.
Paisley frowned. She didn't seem to like that idea, and Dominic was filled with an incredible urge to chuckle.
"Right. Well. As I said, ladies don't know this sort of thing back home, otherwise they're called fast. And you don't want to be called fast."
Dominic scratched his head. "But how dae they know what to dae when they're in bed with a man?"
He had to admit that he was enjoying the way this subject was making Paisley blush. She was doing her best to stay composed and dignified, but it wasn't working.
"Well, if they're lucky, their mother tells them the basic facts shortly before their wedding," she said haughtily. "But mostly they just get told that their husbands will know what to do."
"Ah. So in polite English Society – oh aye, Paisley, I know roughly where ye came from – they can tell their sons the facts of life, but not their daughters?"
"Yes, that's the long and short of it."
"That doesnae seem fair."
"It isn't." she shrugged, pushing back the sheets and getting to her feet. Her skirts were, unsurprisingly, creased and crumpled, despite her efforts to shake them out.
Dominic climbed out of bed after her, stretching out his cramped limbs. He needed to change the subject, keep her talking.
"The Ceilidh is tonight, by the way." he said lightly. "If ye still want to come, that is."
Paisley bit her lip, watching him. The candlelight filled the room with shadows and a strange, flickering light, making it difficult for him to read her face.
"I would like that very much." she said quietly, and Dominic felt his heart clench. He felt desire for her swirl in his gut again. He wanted to reach out and touch her, pull her close, pull her back down into the bed where they could finish what they'd begun last night.
Stop it, Dominic told himself. The poor lass is trying to leave. She's made that clear.
"A man came lookin' for ye at the pub last night." he heard himself say, not exactly sure why he'd chosen this moment to tell her. He'd probably bring up anything to keep her there a few more minutes.
Paisley's head shot up; her eyes wide. "A man? What man? What was his name?"
"He dinnae leave a name. He was tall, thin, dressed very fine. We thought it was yer da."
The color had drained from Paisley's face. She sat down on the edge of the bed with a thump, hands clutching tightly at the fabric of her gown.
"Paisley?" Dominic asked, a twinge of fear starting up in his chest. He crouched down before her, ducking his head to look in her face. "Paisley, who was that man?"
"Did he speak very politely and smile a lot, as if he knew you from before?" she asked, her voice a raspy whisper.
"Aye, and he had thugs in black with him, too."
She let out a shuddering breath. "Oh, oh no. He's found me."
"Yer da?"
She didn't reply to his question. "Great. Now I have to go back and marry the earl. Well, it was good while it lasted, at least," she whispered, stealing a glance at him. She gave him a bitter smile that Dominic hated.
He pursed his lips, trying to fight back a sudden tide of rage.
If only he'd known at the time what her father was planning to do, he would have made himself very clear to the dainty Englishman that Paisley was his, and he and the earl could go- He didn't say all of that to Paisley, of course. Instead, he said:
"I'm sorry to hear that. Have ye considered tellin' them nay?"
Paisley glowered at him. "Yes, I have tried that. I told the earl no, I told my parents no, but it made no difference. You don't say no to a man like that, and he's got Papa backed into a corner. That's why I ran away in the first place. But now they found me, and I... I don't know what to do."
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and buried her face in her hands.
Dominic chewed his lip, not sure what to do next. After a moment's hesitation, he reached up and took her hands away from her face. She looked at him, eyes warm and intent.
"I'll nae let them near ye." Dominic said, his voice low. "Trust me, Paisley. Ye came here to be free, and I'll make sure that ye are. Dinnae Thomas say, 'welcome to the family?’ That's what The Sinner is. It's family. We look out for each other here. I can promise ye that."
Paisley gave a weak smile. "Thank you, Dominic. You're... you're not what I thought you were going to be."
"Because ye thought I would be a ragin' monster? Fair enough. Look, the Ceilidh is tonight, and..."
"Tonight? That doesn't give me much time to get ready!"
"It's hours away." Dominic replied, baffled. "How long dae ye need?"