Page 25 of An Enchanted Spring

She drew her eyebrows together, a protest on her lips.

“Emma. I’m good at spotting a lie, so don’t waste your time with one.”

She put the champagne down and sat up a little straighter. “All right, then. I can’t figure out how you’ve avoided the spotlight,” she admitted.

“And?”

At his raised brow, she reluctantly added, “And you are overwhelming me with your generosity. I’m in a completely different place than I was yesterday, and I’m not adjusting very well.”

Aidan placed his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his hands. Shaking his head slowly, he replied, “Emmaline Perkins, I had no idea you thought so little of yourself.”

“That’s not it at all.” She bristled, immediately defensive.

His smile was slow and seductive. “First, there’s never reason to be nervous—or defensive—when you’re with me. I understand and accept that you don’t trust me yet—you shouldn’t trust anyone except yourself right now. Second, I don’t know anyone—man or woman—who would have dealt with your situation with as much grace; your entire world has been turned around, yet here you are, the consummate professional, going into the most anticipated auction with the world’s wealthy elite, as if you’ve been doing it the whole of your life. After being sacked, then ransacked…here you are. Funny, witty, refreshingly direct, beautiful, poised, and confident.” He sat back and raised an eyebrow at her. “Swan. How apt.”

“Swan?” she asked, thrown.

He nodded slowly. “What your makeup man said earlier. You are indeed a swan. Elegant grace, gentle beauty. But when you try to scare it, it fights back with everything it’s got.”

Emma simply stared at him, transfixed. A delicate shudder ran up her spine.

Aidan glanced out the window as the car slowed. “Smile for the cameras, Emmaline. Show the world that it can’t take you down.”

He pushed opened the door before she could formulate a response.

“Go for one-twenty.”Aidan’s voice, low in her ear, was confident and calm, contradicting the nerves jumping within Emma. She raised her small paddle as inconspicuously as possible, but, as she was quickly learning, there was no such thing as inconspicuous at an elite, closed auction.

“We have one hundred twenty thousand dollars. Do we have one-twenty-five?” the auctioneer asked. “One-twenty-five. Do we have one-thirty?”

“Aye,” Aidan said in her ear, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “Doing great, Emmaline. Keep going. Our competition has some sweat on the back of his neck, so I think we’re close to his breaking point.”

Emma nodded, her palms damp. This kind of money was unlike any she’d seen. Aidan had already dropped over a million dollars. But this—the sword with the same etching as was on The Colcannon’s door and napkins—was what he’d come for. While they had perused the artifacts before theopening bid, Aidan had confessed that it was a special sword his late brother had given him.

Before Emma could offer her condolences, his face had shuttered, and he’d moved on to the next item.

“We have one hundred thirty thousand dollars. Do we have one-thirty-five?” the auctioneer called. Her competition kept his paddle firmly in his lap, and Emma felt a rush of jubilation.We did it!

“One-fifty,” someone suddenly called out from the back.

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’twaitto 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.

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