Page 6

He’d been very specific in the creation of that door.

The stained glass was thicker than regulation, and looked as though it had been pulled from the Book of Kells—intricately designed images surrounded a capital C .

Throughout many of the details, smaller instances of the letter M were interwoven, with leaves of ivy snaking their way around each line of the letter, swords slicing through it.

The linen napkins had that same M embroidered in a light silver, in the corner. He was pleased she noticed it.

“Impressive,” she admitted. “Very impressive.”

“Hmm,” he replied, stroking his chin. “You could be talking of many things. My command of the English language? No, no…we already covered that.” He furrowed his brow in mock concentration, then snapped his fingers.

“Ah. You must mean my memory. When a woman says she likes something, it behooves a man to pay attention.”

Emma regarded him curiously. “Actually, I was talking about your command of the staff here. What is it about you that makes them snap to attention? Is it your presence? Your authoritative voice? Your good looks?” she teased .

“Or,” Aidan replied dryly, “it could be that I’m the owner.” He took pleasure in the way her mouth dropped open into a perfect little O . “Which brings me immediately to business. What did you think?” He jerked his head toward the binder, which sat between them on the table.

Emma toyed with the edge of the tablecloth. “That innocent little binder holds a whole lot of information, Mr. MacWilliam.”

“Aye,” he agreed. He kept his breathing even and his face impassive, but he couldn’t control his heart as it sped up slightly.

“At first, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing,” she admitted. “I was quite surprised.”

“Surprised?” he asked.

She took a sip of her water. “Yes. Very surprised. It’s not every day I’m handed a binder that contains not just a lengthy and very thorough contract for publicity management, but also an entire lot of medieval artifacts up for auction.”

“I wonder what you are handed every day,” Aidan mused.

“Nothing like this,” she replied in the same dry tone he used a moment earlier. “The point is, I thought it would be easy enough for me to search for these items online. Imagine my surprise when I couldn’t find any of them.”

“Surprise. There’s that word again,” he murmured. The server entered with the bottles of whiskey and wine, and Aidan waited for him to pour. Emma gave her nod, and the server left as quietly as he had come.

Aidan raised his glass. “To our partnership.”

“I haven’t accepted yet,” Emma reminded him, although she did tap her glass against his.

“In fact, I’m quite interested to find out how you obtained these images.

This auction is closed until twenty-four hours prior to its start.

And, as this binder wasn’t made in the last hour, I have to wonder how it came to be in your possession. ”

Aidan peered at the binder. “Did you sign the contract?”

“No.”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t tell you how it came to be in my possession.” He watched her struggle with herself for a moment as he enjoyed another sip of his drink. He smiled in appreciation. The more expensive whiskeys be damned; Jameson was a fine display of Irish excellence.

“I need to have my legal team—”

“Absolutely not.”

She leveled a stare at him that had, perhaps, made lesser men quake. “I am not a lawyer, Mr. MacWilliam. You’re asking me to sign a legal document, one that I don’t fully understand. That’s unfair and wrong.”

Colin would appreciate that mindset . Aidan reached across the table and opened the binder. “Then let’s go over it, line by line,” he suggested. He motioned her to move her chair around to him, and she complied, albeit grudgingly.

“Go ahead. Ask me your questions.”

“You’re not my lawyer,” she pointed out.

“Do you trust me?”

Emma narrowed her eyes and bit her lip, and Aidan wondered if she would be brave enough to tell him the truth. After a moment, she shook her head.

“No. I don’t trust anyone.”

She was reinforcing his good opinion of her with each word she uttered. Colin would be lucky to add her to his team.

“Smart,” he replied. “But in this case, incorrect. I’ll take you through this contract.

” He opened the binder. “If you have any lingering questions, we’ll see what they are and determine, together, if you can take them to your legal team tomorrow.

And if I misrepresent anything, you can certainly terminate the contract based on that.

See? It says so right here, first paragraph. ”

She pursed her lips, and Aidan waited, slightly nervous.

He wanted the chance to get to know her.

Not because he was intrigued by her intelligence and her sly wit, he hurried to assure himself.

No, it was because Colin was right—this woman was perfect to head up a team overseas.

He had to get her to sign on first with him, then with Colin.

“All right,” she finally agreed. “Let’s go over this together. But I’m not promising anything.”

He smiled fully at her and set to work.

Emma couldn’t help but notice that Aidan’s intense gaze hadn’t left her face as they discussed the contract. It was almost unnerving how focused he was. She tried to suppress her awareness; the thought of that focus on her in a different situation made everything south of her belly clench.

She didn’t bother telling herself to stop with the inappropriate fantasizing; she knew she was a lost cause.

He flipped the binder to the back and slid it all the way in front of her. “If you were given the ability to purchase one item from the lot, what would you choose?”

She frowned. Surely he realized she could never afford one of the relics; just the starting bids were higher than her monthly income. “I don’t like to play pretend, Mr. MacWilliam. I deal in facts.”

“I enjoy hypotheticals, Ms. Perkins, so humor me, if you would.” He gave her an encouraging smile, and her heart turned in her chest. “If money were absolutely no object, and you could purchase any one object in here, what would it be?”

She decided to play along, and once again looked through the various pieces—helmets, coins, a jousting stick, a writing desk, wax seals, even a piece of fairly well-preserved fabric.

She was only pretending to notice the items, though—she spent more than two hours drooling over the various pieces earlier in the afternoon.

About halfway through the pages, she stopped and studied the picture of a silver sword boasting a large green gem in the hilt, with an intricate pattern etched on the handle.

She squinted to see the pattern in greater detail.

It was fuzzy, but from what she could tell it looked like the letter M , twisted up with vines, and a sword stabbing through it.

She pointed to it. “This.”

Aidan stroked his chin, regarding her thoughtfully. “Are you sure?”

She frowned at him, again feeling as though this were a test. “You asked, and this is my answer. This sword, had I all the money in the world, is what I would buy.”

“Why? The large gem? It would make a beautiful pendant.”

She was horrified at the thought of desecrating such a pristine relic. She wondered again what he was after.

“No, Mr. MacWilliam. While the gem is very beautiful, what strikes me as special is the etching. If you look closely, you’ll see it’s a letter, entwined with foliage of some sort, and pierced with a sword.” She paused, and realization dawned. She held up her napkin. “That’s the same M as this!”

Aidan’s eyes burned into hers, his voice low. “What would you do with such a sword, lass?”

Captivated by his intensity, Emma’s breath hitched. “I’d use it to learn about its original owner.”

Apparently, her answer was what he’d wanted to hear.

He let out a breath, then gave her a blindingly brilliant smile.

Emma tried not to react, but when he smiled like that, her heart stopped and her breathing quickened.

She desperately tried to get hold of herself.

The man was way out of her league. He was too charming, too smart, too wealthy.

More than that, he was a client. She had no business lusting after him.

He was saying something, and Emma tried to shake off the remnants of that smile and focus back on his words instead of his firm mouth.

“I need your love of medieval antiquities, Ms. Perkins.”

“How do you know I love medieval antiquities?”

He blinked quickly. He opened and closed his mouth. “It’s clear that you have a keen eye for valuable artifacts. You chose the most expensive and rarest item in the lot.” He signaled to the man standing just inside the doorway. “Cian, have them bring the main course.”

He was diverting attention, and Emma’s BS flag went up, but years of experience in her field made her hold her tongue.

“And I need you for another reason as well. You have a reputation for saving your clients from themselves.” Aidan turned his attention back to Emma, and she frowned.

“You need me to save you from yourself?”

His laugh was hollow. “I’m so far beyond saving, but I’d like that to stay between us.”

She sighed. “Mr. MacWilliam, let’s be honest. What, exactly, do you want from me?”

His face remained impassive. “I thought we just went over it. I need you to represent me at the auction tomorrow night.”

“Your anonymity is guaranteed at the auction house. All you have to do is use one of their proxy-by-phone in-house bidders. You won’t have to show your face, and the public, without any visual, won’t be able to trace you.”

He shook his head. “No. I need to be there, to ensure the lot is as expected. But I can’t bid for myself.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why not?”

His expression grew serious. “As far as anyone knows, I’m in Ireland. And I need it to stay that way.”

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Are you in trouble of some sort?”