An Enchanted Spring: Mists of Fate - Book Two (13 page)

He looked bemused. “Of course.”

“How secure are your firewalls? Have you had any hacking attempts recently? Has your client information ever been put at risk? What safeguards do you have in place in the event of such an occurrence?”

“Still not seeing the importance here,” Aidan cut in irritably.

She raised an eyebrow. “Let’s say a patron at The Colcannon decides that he had a terrible experience there. He digs around and finds your profile on Celtic Connections. He can glean all sorts of personal details to use in whatever way he thinks of to damage your reputation. If we know what information is publicly available, and what information is privately available, our case against him will be stronger in court, and we can mitigate the damage. So, I want to know how secure your information is on Colin’s database.”

Aidan’s mouth hung open in surprise. “Oh.”

Colin inclined his head, his expression impressed. “I’ll take you through it all this afternoon in my office.”

“I thought you said the office was ‘organized chaos,’ and that not even the housekeeper would touch it,” she teased. “Maybe we’d better stay in the kitchen.”

“Unnecessary,” Aidan said swiftly. “We can discuss it later, but for now you can rest assured the information in that application is no longer in Celtic Connections’ servers.”

“You wiped my servers?” Colin exclaimed. “You don’t have permission to do that, MacWilliam!”

“Colin’s overprotective about the business,” Reilly murmured in Emma’s ear. “He loved Brianagh—the original founder—very much and he promised to take care of it for her. You’ll see a temper tantrum now.”

Colin and Aidan weren’t paying attention to her and Reilly; Colin stood nose-to-nose with Aidan and was shouting all sorts of things at him in rapid-fire Gaelic. Emma caught “Brianagh,” “fool,” and what she thought were a few choice words directed at Aidan. Aidan didn’t shout back, but she could see the muscles on his neck bunching.

“How, exactly, are they related again?” she asked again, watching the spectacle with interest. Never having any siblings or cousins, Emma had never had the opportunity to argue with such enthusiasm before. All her relationships were businesslike; she’d never blown up at anyone like that before. It was fascinating to watch.

“Technically, Aidan is Colin’s uncle. Many times removed,” Reilly replied, draining the coffee cup.

“Really? You want to pull that out already?” Colin asked incredulously, turning on Reilly.

Emma’s head spun. How could that be? “Uncle?”

“Uncle Aidan, that’s me,” Aidan responded. “It’s a convoluted tale, lass, and I’m hardly traceable to Colin through bloodlines. Irish families—we’re enormous by default. No need to worry, though. His reputation is so clean, I think if anyone did associate us, it would be only for the good of my
brand
.
”

The reminder hit its target—Emma was his employee. She ignored the little stab of pain in her chest. He was right, of course. She had to remember that she was not a part of this family, or any family. She relied on herself, and while these interactions were interesting, they were not her concern. She gave a brief nod.

“We are done here,” Aidan said sharply. “Emma—get your coat. We’re leaving.”

“Save your commands for Cian,” Reilly snapped. “You’re not her laird.”

“No, I’m not,” Aidan snapped back. He leveled a stare at Emma. “I am her employer. And it’s business hours. So let’s go.”

“Where, exactly?” she asked, folding her arms.

“To my restaurant.”

“Another one?” Stunned, Emma watched him leave the kitchen.

“You really know how to put him in a bad mood,” Colin remarked, punching Reilly lightly on the shoulder.

“It’s a talent,” he agreed. “One which you seem to share lately.”

“Emma, before you go,” Colin said as Emma stood, “Aidan, Ry, and I have all had a chat about it, and it’s going to take a little time to get your apartment all fixed. Also, we’re concerned about your safety. We’d really like you to stay here. Long-term.”

She started to protest, and he hurried on before she could comment.

“It’s not entirely altruistic. I was hoping you might spend a little time helping me with Celtic Connections. We’re trying to expand overseas, and I’m not sure how to present the business in foreign markets. I wonder if you might be willing to help with that, offering some advice.”

“That’s really kind, Colin, but…” She shook her head uncomfortably. Aidan must have put him up to it, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

“This isn’t for pity,” Reilly assured her. “Colin knows what you did with that software company that expanded from California to Japan.”

“True,” Colin confirmed.

Despite herself, she grinned. “That was a fun account. I never got to go to Tokyo, though.”

Unsurprisingly, Heidi had gone in her place, after Emma did all the work of closing the account and creating storyboards, presentations, and contacts in the States. Now that she was out of the environment, Emma really saw how much she’d done for Price Publicity and how little she’d gotten in return. She had a momentary flash of relief that she’d never have to enter that office again.

“I have to see if it would cross any contract lines,” she replied. “But if it doesn’t, then I’ll help you out. Thanks.”

Colin gave her a nod, a lock of his hair falling over his forehead, and she couldn’t help but smile at him. Colin O’Rourke was an all-American heartbreaker, and nice to boot. It worried her a little that she wasn’t even the least bit interested in him.

“EMMALINE!” Aidan boomed, exasperation in his voice. He appeared in the doorway again, wearing his black leather jacket over his gray polo shirt.

Her mouth went a little dry, and, irritated, she knew why Colin just didn’t do it for her.

He wasn’t Aidan MacWilliam.

• • •

Later that day, while Aidan was holed up in the office with Reilly, Colin introduced Emma to the third floor of his massive house. The entire floor was one large room that spanned the length of the brownstone, with the same honey maple wood floors as the rest of the house. The stairs from the second floor led directly into the enormous space, which managed to be light, open, and airy, yet comfortable and welcoming. A gorgeous, highly detailed light blue oriental carpet lay nearly wall-to-wall. The two armchairs were overstuffed, and a basket full of thick fleece blankets sat near a stone fireplace in the wall. The gas insert gave that end of the room a cozy feel.

The best thing about the fireplace wasn’t its ambiance, though. What made her heart beat faster were the shelves surrounding it. She gazed upon the titles lining the walls and felt a little like Belle did when the Beast showed her his library. She was surprised to find a myriad of subjects—just from her first glance, she saw historical texts, literary fiction, and a bestselling thriller novel.

Her eyes traveled to the bright double window at the back of the room, and she noted the inviting window seat. It was padded in a fabric that complemented the blue decor, with oversized chair pillows propped against it.

“This is amazing!”

“When Bri lived here this building was split into two units. I inherited this from her, and when the neighbors wanted to sell, I bought and renovated the whole thing into a single-family home. At the very least, I needed a place to store all Bri’s romance novels,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “That girl had so many, it’s no wonder she started a matchmaking service.”

Never before had Emma so wished she had a family like this one. All the men were still so devoted to their family member, years after her death. Emma felt a flash of sadness for them all. The more she learned of Bri, the more certain she was that they would’ve been friends.

Of course, she’d have been meeting her under really strange circumstances, so who knew what the woman would’ve thought?
Hi, I’m Emma. I work for Aidan, but every time I look at him, my knees get a bit wobbly. It’s okay, though, because we’re not a thing, that’d be unethical. Oh, and I’m on the run from my ex, and I’m just going to crash here with your family until I figure out what I’m going to do.

Yeah. That’d go over well.

“…in here,” Colin was saying.

She blinked at him and ceased her imaginary conversation with a dead woman. Quickly, she promised herself to work on a real social life once she’d sorted her current mess out. “Sorry, I was woolgathering. What was that?”

He waved her further into the room. “I was saying, feel free to hang out in here. It’s a great place to lose yourself for a while.”

“You’re right. And thank you.” She paused. “So, if the first floor has the kitchen, living room, office, and a bathroom, and the second floor has four bedrooms…”

“Two of the bedrooms have their own bathrooms,” Colin informed her. “Aidan’s room and the one that’s unoccupied. Something’s up with the plumbing, so I’m not using it until I can get someone to fix it.”

“Okay, so four bedrooms and two bathrooms. Then you have this floor, which is incredible…what’s on the fourth floor?”

He grinned. “My master suite.”

Images of what that must look like flitted through her mind, but before she could ask, he said, “I can show it to you next, if you like.”

She blushed.

“Anyway,” Colin said, taking pity on her, “please feel free to make use of this room. Until your apartment is ready, I want you to feel at home here.”

“Thank you,” she replied, glancing around again. She couldn’t wait to get started—she spied a copy of
Buile Suibhne
, her favorite late medieval Irish tale, and she was itching to get her hands on it to read the translation.

“The stairs over there”—he pointed to the opposite end of the room, to a matching balustrade—“go straight down to the kitchen. Feel free to bring anything up here.”

She nodded, and Colin gave her a salute before loping down the stairs.

Hurrying over to the gold book, she carefully pulled it down and grinned at the cover. She loved every single thing about medieval Ireland. Though she’d also studied the politics and religious theory, she loved the folklore and stories best.
Buile Suibhne
was by far her favorite—a violent, temper-driven pagan king who’s cursed by a bishop, who ultimately finds salvation when he converts to Christianity.

The sociological truths buried in those pages made her head spin with excitement.

She carefully opened the cover and turned a page. Then another. And another, and another…and realized they were completely in Irish Gaelic.

She frowned. She didn’t recognize some of the words.

She went to flip to the copyright page, but there wasn’t one. She realized with a start that she was holding a very old copy of the original text in its original language, and she had nothing better to do than wrap herself in a fleece blanket and sit on the window seat.

Her day was looking like one of her best ever.

She placed the book on the seat, then decided she needed sustenance. She knew herself; once she cracked open that book in earnest, she wouldn’t move, even if the house was on fire. Temporarily quashing her inner history nerd, she headed downstairs.

Thirty minutes later, Emma sat on the comfortable window seat,
Buile Suibhne
forgotten in her lap.

She was frozen to the spot, absorbed by the spectacle happening three stories below her, in Colin’s tiny back garden. At first, she tried to look away. When her eyes wouldn’t comply with her demands, she tried talking to them sternly, to convince them that she was doing nothing better than spying. She even attempted to close her eyes, but it was pointless.

After all, she was watching two incredibly beautiful, shirtless men swordfight—
with medieval swords
—directly below her.

She could appreciate Colin’s strength and grace. His arm muscles bulged and flexed with each parry. A large, dark tattoo wound about each of his upper arms, and they seemed to dance with each thrust. The sound of his laughter was almost as loud as the ring of metal against metal. His chest was rock hard, leading to a tight six-pack that she suspected was actually more like an eight-pack. A light dusting of hair covered his chest.

Her eyes, once they’d fully scoped the male beauty that was Colin O’Rourke, strayed to Aidan. And once they landed on him, they wouldn’t move.

Never before had she had such little control over her vision.

Emma drank in every detail of him. Every well-defined muscle in his chest, arms, stomach, and back rippled as he parried. He looked as though he’d recently spent time in the sun. Aidan’s face was tightened into lines of concentration, but every once in a while he’d throw out a laugh and her heart would kick into high gear. He was taller than Colin, and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body. Broad shoulders gave way to a muscled back.

Amazing. She’d never noticed how attractive a man’s back could be.

It seemed they were verbally sparring as well, though she couldn’t hear them. The harder one laughed, the harder the other fought. Aidan’s forearms bunched with each clash of the blades, and he also had tattoos around his arms, similar in style to Colin’s. She couldn’t make out the details, but it looked like Celtic knots or some sort of vines.

She continued to shamelessly admire Aidan from the safety of the library. His chest was sculpted, with incredible pecs that flexed menacingly with his swordfighting. His stomach had more muscles than she thought humanly possible, and just the sight of his obliques inexplicably sped her breathing. From this height, she could just make out a happy trail, and she suddenly had an intense desire to follow that trail wherever it would take her.

Emma almost slapped herself. She was being fanciful and ridiculous.
Get a grip!
she chided herself.
Work ethic, Perkins. Dig it out from the under that avalanche of lust.

She refused to think of the kiss last night. He was way out of her league, anyway. He was wealthy, model-gorgeous, knew how to wear a medieval léine, and was, she admitted, a great kisser. The man did things with his tongue that made her—

She blew out a breath slowly.
Do. Not. Think. Of. That.
Apparently, after convincing her they didn’t exist, her hormones finally decided to make an appearance in her life. She was not appreciative of their timing.