An Enchanted Spring: Mists of Fate - Book Two (8 page)

If he wanted to, he would have killed her
. The man had taken careful aim, and there should’ve been no time for Aidan to knock Emma out of the way. Aidan understood the intent behind the bullet…it was a warning shot.

Emma was in far more danger than he initially realized.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low in her ear. She nodded jerkily, and he carefully pulled back, wincing as the glass slid off his back, balancing on his knees on the pavement. He helped her to her feet. “We have to get out of here,” he said. “I don’t care to spend my night with the bobbies, explaining anything.” Aidan frowned at her ashen face, then tucked her under his arm. He glanced back. He didn’t get a good visual of her ex’s face, but he damn well knew he was close to them. Too close.

“I think someone tried to shoot us,” Emma said, her hands shaking.

“Let’s not wait around to give him another shot, then,” he replied as he steered her toward a taxi. He nearly pushed her inside, following close on her heels, and instructed the cabbie to drive east before heading back toward the hotel. Aidan locked first Emma’s, then his own door. Once they were out in the traffic, one of a thousand other yellow taxis, Aidan pulled out his phone, sent a message to Cian, then turned to Emma.

“I’m having a bad day,” she blurted, her voice breaking.

“I know,” he said.

Emma burst into tears. He pulled her into his arms and let her cry, not caring about the makeup on his shirt, or the wet stains on his lapel, or the alarmed looks from the cabbie. He just held her and hoped it was enough.

• • •

“I’m not a crier,” Emma repeated once they were back in the hotel room, this time to Cian, who held out a fresh tissue toward her.

Cian merely nodded, looking as though he wished the whole business were over and done with, then quickly left the room.

Emma leaned back on the couch and glanced at Aidan. His expression was deadly serious, his frown fierce.

“I’m not your problem to solve,” she said quietly.

“You’re not a problem, period,” he replied, just as softly.

“Mr. MacWilliam—”

He snorted. “I think we’re past formalities, Emma. Call me Aidan.”

Emma felt a headache coming on strong, and she glanced at the clock. “All right,
Aidan.
I couldn’t help you even if I wanted to.”

He quirked a brow. “Really.”

She folded her arms. “Really. The auction you want me to help you with is in less than six hours. I have no clothing to wear.”
I have no clothing at all
, she reflected morosely.

“Why are you so unwilling to accept aid?”

“Why are you so willing to give it?” she shot back.

Aidan’s expression turned thoughtful. “That’s the question, isn’t it? You don’t trust my motives.”

She remained silent, refusing to incriminate herself.

He thought for a moment. “I rarely make mistakes.”

She snorted.
Wealthy and full of himself. Well, he’d fit right into my former client roster.

He raised a brow but continued to speak. “My instincts have saved me more times than I care to remember. And my instincts are telling me that you’re the right person for this job.”

“Is the position of Aidan MacWilliam’s publicity manager so difficult to staff, then?” she quipped.

He smirked. “You’ll never know unless you take the chance.” His phone rang then, and he reached over to silence it. He rummaged in the satchel at his feet and withdrew the white binder.

His phone rang again. Clearly annoyed, Aidan grabbed it and looked at the caller ID. He flashed her an apologetic grimace. “I have to take this. Excuse me?”

She chewed her lip as she watched him leave the room, considering her reasons for turning down his offer.

Well, first, you don’t know this guy. He could be a crazy psycho. After all, Ben showed no outward signs for years!

Although, she reflected, Ben refused to go out with her friends. He never stopped her from going with them, but after a while she found that she preferred his company, so she stopped going out.

He might not have stopped you, but he would act hurt that you chose your friends over him, and you’d feel guilty every time. And you “preferred” not to deal with his attitude more than you ever “preferred” his company.

She hated that she allowed her friendships to disappear. She wasn’t even sure she could find any of the women anymore; most had married or moved away. She’d been lonely in these past few months, but with the demands of her career, she hadn’t found the time to look anyone up.

So what if Ben maybe displayed some odd behavior? You don’t need anyone’s help! You’re not a charity case!

But Aidan had made it very clear that this job wasn’t charity—he claimed he needed her services, and even before her worst day of all time began, he’d made it obvious that he only wanted her representing him.

That has to count for something, right?

Emma wasn’t sure if she was talking herself into or out of his help.

“I apologize about that,” Aidan said as he strode back into the room. “Business never stops.”

She gave a weak smile. “What’s your Plan B?”

His brows knit. “Sorry?”

“Yesterday, you said you had a Plan B. What is it?”

“Go alone,” he said simply.

She blinked. “That’s your big Plan B?”

“I never claimed it to be something outrageous.”

Emma fought a smile. “So you didn’t.”

“What’s your Plan A?” he asked. Then, his eyes twinkling, added, “Assuming, as I’m wont to do, that I’m Plan B?”

Without meaning to, she laughed. She clapped her hands over her mouth to stem it, but it was no use. The entire day had been something out of a bad dream, and she realized with a start that she needed something to focus on.

And the gorgeous man in front of her, presenting her a kind of redemption, was definitely something on which she could focus.

She chewed her lip, considering. She reminded herself that Aidan was not Ben. He hadn’t any reason to offer her a job other than that he needed her services. And, Aidan was offering her a way to earn her way out of the situation she was in, which she appreciated. She hated to be a charity case, and he seemed to understand that.

And, of course, what came with that offer was hard to pass up: money, a safe place to stay, and medieval artifacts.

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “You assume wrong, Aidan. You’re actually my Plan A. I’m willing to take the chance.”

• • •

“That’s good news,” Colin said grimly, his eyes focused on the computer screen in front of him rather than Aidan’s face on his phone.

“Aye, don’t jump around with excitement,” Aidan agreed dryly.

“Sorry.” Colin turned his attention toward the video chat. “Things here are blowing up. I’ve got a new client who’s an absolute arse. We’ve sent him on four dates, and each of the women have come back with a ‘hell no’ response when asked if they’d be interested in a second one.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, the guy’s a real Prince Charming. He’s taken up entirely too much of my thought processes for today. It really is good news that Perkins is open to a new opportunity, though.”

Aidan nodded. He wondered if Colin had done any searches on Emma as of late. Her name was attached to the day’s biggest scandal—and not in a good way. She was painted as a scorned woman, out for revenge on her ex and whomever he’d cheated on her with—some Hollywood actress. Aidan didn’t read much past the headlines, and it seemed as though Colin was too busy to notice anything amiss with his potential new hire.

“I hope she’s good with public speaking,” Colin was saying as Aidan tuned back into their conversation. “If she’s going to work here, I’m going to need her help with the press conferences in the UK. They love their telly over there. Is she doing any public speaking while you’re in town?”

Aidan paused. “I don’t think so.”

Colin sighed audibly, his face revealing a bit of the stress he seemed to be facing. “Damn. The media relations are only part of it—I also need someone to stand next to me as a spokesperson. Maybe I should just go with the last woman I interviewed up here. She’s not the nicest person, but she’d get the job done.”

Aidan shrugged, but inwardly, his pulse kicked up. “Let me see what her event calendar looks like. Maybe she does have something, and I’m just not aware of it.”

“I hope she does.” Colin raked a hand through his hair, then turned the phone’s camera to his computer screen. The display of meetings in his email calendar made Aidan’s head spin. Colin sighed. “Do what you have to so I can contact her directly. I need some help.”

• • •

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t want any employee of mine to show up to a white tie event in casual attire,” he replied dryly, echoing the words of Tess, the stylist.

“Listen to the man,” Tess said brusquely. “I’m set for now. I have your measurements and I’ll send over the dress before tonight’s event. Do you have hair and makeup set up?”

Emma’s eyes were wide. “Um…no?”

Tess
tsk
ed and gave her a disapproving stare. “Shall I arrange that as well? I have a few contacts and could try to find someone.”

“That’s not—”

“Yes,” Aidan interrupted Emma. “Please do. Put it on my bill.”

Tess’s eyes turned speculative as she looked between Aidan and Emma.

“This is too much money for one night,” Emma protested, her face reddening. “Honestly. There’s probably a million charities your cash could support instead.”

Tess placed a firm hand on Emma’s arm. “In my experience, the more you struggle, the more they spend. He’s a big boy. Let him spend his money how he sees fit.”

Aidan winked at the woman, who had to be at least twenty years his senior, and she waved her fingertips at him as she breezed out of the suite.

He leveled a stare at Emma and watched in satisfaction as her protest died on her lips. “You agreed to this.”

She folded her arms and pursed her lips.

“You signed the contract,” he continued.

She huffed out a sigh and raised her eyes to the ceiling.

“You gave up any and all rights to the next twenty-four hours of your life.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I did not!”

He chuckled. “Just checking your hearing.”

Emma shook her head in apparent frustration. “I get that I need appropriate attire tonight. But I don’t need you to purchase me a new wardrobe!”

He looked at the cardboard box sitting on the floor. “Your belongings beg to differ.”

While Emma was sequestered with the stylist in the extra bedroom, Cian had salvaged what he could from her apartment, but there was little to be saved. Almost all of her belongings had been destroyed; the only things untouched were whatever was at the laundromat, which Cian had picked up on his way back to the hotel. And, judging by the size of the box, it didn’t look like she’d sent much in her last drop-off.

She growled at Aidan, then rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “I had enough clothing to last me until I’m paid.”

He shrugged and remained silent. He got the distinct feeling that if he told her the real reason why he wanted to buy her clothing, she’d run so fast out the door he’d never catch up to her again.

Hell, even Cian had raised a bushy brow when Aidan demanded Neiman Marcus’s best personal shopper to be sent to his suite posthaste, but he wouldn’t be deterred. When a lass came under a laird’s protection, he took care of all her basic needs. Food, clothing, shelter. And whether or not she knew it, having signed that contract, Emmaline Perkins was now under his protection, and, until he reunited with his brother, Aidan MacWilliam was the laird.

For the first time since being separated from Nioclas, Aidan’s chest didn’t tighten at the thought of him. His driving need to return home seemed slightly dulled.

Emma’s mutinous face snagged his attention, and he frowned at her concern over his bank account. He tried another approach. “I want you to look a certain way while representing me.”

She guffawed. “Oh, right. Because my usual business attire is inappropriate?”

“You’d be better in business casual.”

“Since when are jeans business casual?” she asked, her jaw set.

“Since I declare them to be,” he answered, folding his own arms. “Isn’t it bad form to argue with your new boss?”

She scowled at him, realizing the futility of her argument. “But—”

“Call it a cultural thing,” he drawled. “And, if that doesn’t work for you, then think of it as a uniform.”

She gritted her teeth, and after a charged moment, she ground out, “Thank you.” Then, because she apparently couldn’t seem to help herself, she added, “All of this is unnecessary, but I’m acquiescing.”

“So gracefully, too,” he murmured, and took an inordinate amount of pleasure at watching her face suffuse with heat. “You’re quite welcome, anyway.” He sat on the sofa and checked his watch. “I have some business to do this afternoon. Feel free to make use of the suite. Full telly lineup, movies, the whole thing.”

She half smiled. “Thanks, but I’m not big on television. I’ll figure something out.”

“You’re welcome to use the iPad if you’d like.” He pointed to the device in the kitchen. “Order a book? Play a game of some sort?”

She looked interested, and he took it as a good sign. “What’s on it?”

“Not much, but you can download what you wish.” He retrieved it and handed it to her.

Her eyes, glued to the screen, were enormous. She raised them to meet his, and Aidan felt something shift in his chest.

“You have access to the Book of Kells on this?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Aye. It’s publicly available through Trinity College.”

She shook her head as she swiped through the pages. “Not in its entirety,” she breathed. “I would know. I look for it online all the time. This is amazing—thank you.” And this time, the sincerity of the gratitude, plus the warmth from the true smile she bestowed upon him, knocked him flat.

His breath caught and his chest tightened at her beauty. Her brilliant blue eyes sparkled, bringing him back to carefree childhood mornings spent on the seashore. The rosy color in her cheeks was the exact hue of the small flowers that dotted the Irish countryside; her honey hair, tendrils of which had escaped her hair tie and now framed her heart-shaped face, danced like fairies as she moved her head.