An Enchanted Spring: Mists of Fate - Book Two Page 8

  Emma turned in surprise, her gaze falling on the back wall, which was lined with telephones. One of the men on the phone held his paddle high.

  Aidan swore, then apologized. “Keep going, Emma.” She raised her paddle, and the bidding continued. “I’m going to get that sword, come hell or high water.”

  And, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars later, Aidan MacWilliam was once again the proud owner of an authentic, mint condition medieval Irish sword.

  She couldn’t wait to touch it.

  Aidan excused himself to speak with the auctioneer, and she sat back in her chair, letting the breath whoosh from her body. Someone tapped her shoulder, and she half turned in her seat…and came face-to-face with her as-of-that-morning ex-boss.

  “I don’t know what you think you’re doing.” Mr. Price’s smile didn’t match the anger in his low voice.

  “Mr. Price,” she managed to say.

  “Surprised that I’m here? Why? Many of my clients are here; it’s a great networking opportunity. Of course, it’s going to be nearly impossible to convince anyone that you haven’t been plotting this for quite some time. I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish. You will not ruin my business, Perkins. I’ve already made it known that you were fired, and this just puts the nail in your coffin. Scheming to outbid my good name? I’m happy I fired you before this came to pass. And I’m even happier that you’ll never work in PR again. Even you must know it’s a rookie mistake to go against me. Everyone who tries, loses.”

  “Paul.”

  Mr. Price started as Aidan returned, his body radiating disdain.

  “Threatening my publicist, are you?” Aidan asked.

  Mr. Price stuttered, his eyes becoming slits. “You stole her?”

  Emma opened her mouth to explain that you can’t steal someone who’s been fired, but Aidan beat her to it.

  “Stole her? Like she’s some sort of commodity? Shame on you, Price. No, I saw a talented young woman who’d been set up to fail at your company. And I’ve asked her to join mine. That’s not stealing. That’s making your poor business decision my best one.”

  Price snickered. “She’ll screw you over too, MacWilliam. You just watch.”

  “I’d suggest you watch your language, as there are ladies present,” Aidan replied coolly.

  “None I can see.”

  Emma’s mouth dropped open, and she gave him a scathing glance. “I pity your clients. They have no idea what they’re really getting from Price Publicity,” she said in a voice just loud enough to be heard by everyone in the immediate vicinity.

  Barely containing his rage, Price glared at her. “You will never work in PR again, Perkins.”

  “She already does,” Aidan snapped, his patience clearly gone. “Leave her alone, or I’ll make you wish you’d never met her.”

  “I already do,” Price spat, then turned on his heel and stomped off.

  And Emma knew, with sudden, complete clarity, that it was over. Even when she said it to Aidan, she believed that she’d be able to rebuild her career with another firm, in another city. But Price Publicity had far-reaching hands. If Mr. Price didn’t want her in PR, he would smear her all the way to China. She would have to find a whole new career.

  The enormity of it slammed into her. She’d have to start over.

  Again.

  “Emma, turn around,” Aidan commanded. “Good. Don’t say a word to that bastard. He’s not worth your time.”

  But he’s worth my career. It’s all I have.

  As if he were reading her thoughts, Aidan said softly, “You’re not alone in this, Emma. I’ve got you.”

  Emma shook her head hard and slid out from the row. She needed to get some air—and control of herself.

  • • •

  Aidan watched Emma go and knew she had hit her breaking point. He tried to follow her, but people were flooding the aisle as they headed to the dinner that was set up in another room. Her shoulders were rigid, her bearing stiff, and she disappeared from view.

  And she was unprotected. His heart beat faster; perhaps Emma wasn’t thinking of the man who was intent on harming her, but he certainly was. And if MacDermott somehow figured out she was here, she was a sitting duck.

  He almost slammed into Cian in the foyer of the auction house. “Where is she?”

  “I thought she was with you.”

  “She left,” Aidan replied grimly. “We’ve got to find her.”

  “I’m right here,” Emma said softly from behind him. He spun around, taking swift note of her appearance. She looked unharmed but upset.

  Aidan resisted the ridiculous urge to pull her into his arms, digging his fingernails into his palms. “Price is an arse.”

  “Ass or not, he is a powerful man. He promised me I would never work in PR again, and I realized I would have to start all over again. And he’s right.”

  Aidan shook his head in disgust. “After tonight, you’ll have more than enough money to start over, doing whatever you want.”

  “I really do enjoy my career, Aidan.”

  He frowned. “I see. I’ll make some calls, see what I can do for damage control—”

  She held up her hand. “Aidan, please. I know damage control better than most people, and this situation is unsalvageable.”

  “I thought nothing is unsalvageable in publicity.”

  “It is if the most powerful man in the business makes it so.” Emma sighed. “I’ll figure it out tomorrow. I’ve had enough of today to last a lifetime.”

  Aidan studied her thoughtfully. “All right. For now, let’s settle the payments and head back to the hotel.”

  She nodded, a small, sad smile gracing her lips, and allowed him to usher her ahead.

  • • •

  Later that night, Emma stood in her room, wrapped in a fluffy white robe. She dumped the cardboard box of her clothes onto the lushly made bed.

  One box. A single box contained the only items that hadn’t been destroyed in her apartment. Only the small load of laundry she’d hastily dropped off at the laundromat the other day. She had very little of value, monetary or sentimental. After her grandparents died, Emma was left with all their belongings—as well as their debts, funerals, and a myriad of other expenses. She was forced to sell everything to pay for it all. She had no inheritance from her parents—all they left to her had gone to her upbringing.

  All she was left with was memories.

  She grabbed her dark pink SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY nightshirt from the pile and tugged it over her head, allowing herself a false sense of comfort from it.

  Though she would’ve preferred to hide in the hotel bedroom all night, she needed something to drink. She glanced in the en suite bathroom and amended that—she needed something stronger than tap water.

  Mentally girding her loins, she opened the door and walked downstairs to the living area, but she stopped short at the sight of Aidan, who was sound asleep on the couch. He’d turned the gas fireplace on, and the light danced off his features as he took long, even breaths. He still wore his tux, although the jacket was slung over the arm of the couch. His bow tie hung, untied and uneven, around his neck, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His forearms were huge—solid muscle, relaxed in sleep, covered with a dusting of dark hair.

  He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, but also the most complicated. Did they really only just meet yesterday? She felt as though she’d known him for much longer.

  Or perhaps she’d just had the longest day of her life.

  She studied him. He was a throwback to another era. Gallant, protective, almost…chivalrous.

  She mentally rolled her eyes. That word was only in her mind due to the overwhelming medieval artifacts she’d been privy to that night.

  And what was his relationship with Cian? He was more than just Aidan’s driver and bodyguard. They seemed to be friends, and he called Aidan “my laird” frequently. Perhaps it was an Irish thing, to call someone “my laird”
out of respect. She certainly hoped Aidan didn’t expect her to call him that. Although she had to admit, the power in that title was rather sexy.

  Emma mentally shook herself. Even though she held onto her sanity by a mere thread, she could allow herself a small, harmless crush on the man who’d saved her from an undesirable situation. It was probably even natural.

  She carefully eased herself into the wingback chair and watched him sleep. She openly admired his jawline, wondering why he hadn’t been chased down by a modeling agency. His five o’clock shadow was making a spectacular appearance, giving his face an even harder edge.

  She watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically. His chest was rock solid—there was nothing soft about him, but when they’d left the auction house he’d held her hand gently, as if he would break her. When leading her into the hotel, he had rested his palm against the small of her back, just enough pressure to move her forward without any effort. His hands were rough and calloused, as though he spent hours every day splitting wood with an axe, yet his manners were suave and sophisticated, something she’d expect from a businessman.

  He was a mystery, and Emma wasn’t sure she wanted to solve it. She would have to move to a new place. With the amount of money Aidan deposited into her account that evening, she could go anywhere she wanted, at least for a little while.

  “Emma, if you don’t stop thinking so hard, I won’t be able to finish my nap,” Aidan said without opening his eyes.

  She gasped. “I didn’t know you were awake!”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt your inspection,” he replied. “Did I pass?”

  She crossed her arms and he opened one eye.

  “I guess not,” he said, a small smile playing around his lips. He stretched, and Emma tried not to stare.

  A small laugh escaped her mouth, and she clapped a hand over it to stop the completely inappropriate giggles.

  “I’m glad you can find humor in my failings,” Aidan replied dryly.

  “Laugh or cry,” Emma giggled, slightly hysterical. “The sum total of outlandish incidents in my life, prior to yesterday, numbered exactly zero. But since I met you, it’s been one catastrophe after another. I must admit, your job offer came at a fortuitous time.”

  Aidan shifted uncomfortably. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. He pressed his clasped hands to his mouth for a moment, then said hesitantly, “This was left at the front desk for you.” He reached behind the couch and picked up a bulky envelope from the end table.

  Emma frowned. “Who could that be from?”

  He didn’t look at her, but instead dumped the contents of the envelope onto the coffee table between them.

  She drew a sharp breath. She leaned forward and gingerly picked up the charm bracelet that lay in the middle of the mess.

  Aidan placed his elbows on his knees, then clasped his hands and rested his chin against them.

  “Ben took me to a jeweler about a month before we broke up. He asked me to pick out some pieces that I liked, for my wedding present,” she explained shakily. “This is the bracelet I chose.”

  She glanced at the charms scattered on the table and the bile rose to her throat. “Oh, God.”

  Aidan sifted through the charms. A revolver, a knife, an axe, a sword, and a bottle of poison glinted in the firelight. Emma dropped the bracelet as though it had burned her. Horrified, she met Aidan’s steely eyes. “He means to kill me.”

  “Not on my watch.”

  “You can’t be with me every moment,” she whispered, fear choking her.

  “I damn well will be. But we’re still going to need some backup to protect you.”

  “Backup?” Emma whispered. “As in, a security guard?”

  He ignored her question and instead grabbed his phone. “Cian. Alert the hotel that absolutely no one comes up here. I want guards in the elevators.” He hung up, and a smile suddenly broke across his face as he noticed her shirt. “Ride a cowboy?”

  She flushed. “Um…”

  “I’m all about the message,” he drawled, “but I hear knights are better.”

  “I’m not having this conversation,” she declared, wishing she’d thought to put it on inside out.

  “Emma, you are one surprise after another, you know that?”

  “Yeah. I get all the best surprises,” she muttered, her eyes shooting to the jewelry littering the table. She stood and began to pace.

  He swept the pieces into the envelope and crumpled it in his hand. “What do you want to do about this?”

  “He’ll find me no matter where I go,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. “In a city of millions, he tracked me here. He has eyes everywhere.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I wish I could say no, but my gut tells me otherwise.”

  Aidan crushed the envelope a little more, and Emma could hear the charms break. “Then we have two options. One is to involve the police again.”

  “That wasn’t the most effective route.” Emma hated the tremor in her voice.

  “Nay. The other option is to test your theory out.” He looked up at her through his lashes, his eyes a clear green. “We see how far he’s willing to go.”

  “To what end?” she asked.

  “He’ll never stop unless we make him.”

  “This isn’t a we issue. This is my battle. I’ll have to confront him. Or get him the money.”

  Aidan raised an eyebrow. “And you think, knowing whatever it is that you may or may not know, that he’ll just let you off the hook when you pass him some money?”

  She chewed her lip. “Maybe?”

  “Well, before you try that out, perhaps we can try mine first. Come to Boston with me, Emma.”

  “Boston?”

  “Aye. It’s close enough that we can make it there quickly, and far enough away that he will have to make an effort to find us.” Aidan’s gaze speared her. “At this point, Emma, what do you have to lose?”

  My life, she thought morosely, her eyes drifting to the now fully compressed handful of trash in his hand.

  If she stayed, he’d find her.

  If she went, perhaps he’d give up and leave her alone. Boston was a nice city. It wasn’t as big as New York City, but hadn’t Ben just proven to her that size didn’t matter? Perhaps distance would.

  She nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll go.”

  He stood and Emma tried—and failed—to look away from the sinew in his bare forearms. “We’ll leave tomorrow. Do you have anything else you think Cian might have missed at your apartment?”

  She sighed heavily. “Possibly. Things like my passport, birth certificate—the important papers are in a safe, in a special compartment in the closet. One can only hope that Ben didn’t see it.”

  “We’ll stop there after we retrieve the items from the auction,” Aidan said. He stretched again, then winked at her when he caught her staring. “Sweet dreams, Emmaline.”

  Her eyes widened, and she glared at his retreating back. He set me up! Well, at least she could enjoy the view from behind as his punishment. Or her reward.

  He cast a glance over his shoulder and tossed her a megawatt smile, and her heart skipped a beat.

  Only when he ambled leisurely up the stairs did she realize she’d been caught staring again.

  Damn that man!

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, just as he was stepping out of the shower, Aidan opened his door to insistent banging. “What do you want, old man?”

  “The bellman’s here with breakfast,” Cian said grouchily. “He won’t leave; he’s just standing there like he’s daft.”

  Aidan secured the towel around his waist and sighed. “He’s waiting for his tip, you fool.” He grabbed his wallet from the nightstand and walked out, digging through to pull out a twenty-dollar bill. Handing it to the bellman, he thanked him, then walked to the door and closed it behind him.

  “Good morn—oh!” Emma’s face turned scarlet, her eyes locked
on his chest.

  “Good morning, Emma. I trust you slept well?”

  “Ah, um. Oh. Yeah. I, uh.” She licked her lips and managed to drag her eyes up to his, and she colored even darker. “I’m sorry. What?”

  Aidan couldn’t resist the smug smile that crept along his face. “I asked if you slept well.”

  “I do. I mean, I did, yes,” she said quickly. She averted her gaze, and it fell on the table behind him. “Is that breakfast?”

  “Aye. Are you hungry?”

  She murmured something incoherent, and Aidan stifled a laugh. “I’ll just go put some clothes on. You look very refreshed today.”

  She glanced down at herself and managed a real smile. “Yes, thank you. The clothes from Neiman Marcus arrived this morning. I admit I’ve never owned anything this comfortable.” The soft denim jeans fit her perfectly, hugging her curves in all the right places. The long, open cashmere sweater, a deep navy blue with silver threads woven through it, flattered her already lovely figure, and the white shirt she wore accented her breasts to perfection. She was barefoot, her red-painted toenails peeking out at him from the hem of her pants. “Tess certainly thinks blue and silver are my colors.”

  He didn’t say anything, but Cian cleared his throat meaningfully.

  “I’ll pay you back for them,” Emma said.

  He shook his head as he walked back to his room, calling over his shoulder, “No, you won’t. But the thought is appreciated.”

  “I’m not a kept woman!” she called out after him. Then, embarrassment coloring her tone, she added, “Oh. Good morning, Cian.”

  Aidan chuckled as he loped back to his room. He sobered, though, when he thought of taking her outside the relative safety of the hotel suite.

  The thought made something in the vicinity of his chest burn.

  “We’ll leave straight after breakfast, if you’re amenable?” Aidan remarked a few minutes later as he grabbed a roll.

  She choked on her orange juice, and gratefully accepted the napkin from his outstretched hand. “Okay. I can head into the apartment and salvage what I can while you finish up at the auction house.”