Emma nodded her assent, and when he approached her again, she did exactly that. His enthusiasm dimmed, but he remained cordial and pleasant before excusing himself.
“Works like a charm every time,” Bri noted with satisfaction. “The language of love is the same no matter the century.”
Emma snorted. “At least I’m learning a lot about medieval matchmaking.”
“There is that,” Bri agreed, and they dissolved into giggles.
“I wonder what you ladies find so humorous,” a masculine voice asked from behind them.
Brianagh dropped her head back and gazed adoringly at her husband. “Girl talk. Where did you go for so long? Lairds have been asking for you.”
“We went to his solar, to weep over the expense of your little event,” Aidan said as he approached them. “Saints, Bri, there must be at least a hundred people here, eating through your larder!”
“I’m not worried,” Bri replied. “They’re here to see a wedding, Aidan. I plan to give them just that. Speaking of, how was your dance with Monaghan?” Brianagh asked Emma.
Emma shot her a murderous glare, but Bri kept her expression serene.
Aidan’s face was stony. “Perhaps I could have the next dance, Lady Emma?”
He waited patiently for her answer, and despite her anger, her heart began to thump in triple overtime. She nodded her head wordlessly. He slowly brought her hand up from her lap, turned it over, and kissed the inside of her wrist. She gasped softly, and felt his smile against her skin.
Carefully, he placed her hand back in her lap. “I’ll find you when the musicians strike up another chord, then.” He turned to his brother and murmured in Gaelic, “Susceptibility.”
Nioclas tipped his head, and Aidan left the three of them staring after him, Bri and Nioclas in amusement, Emma in angry confusion.
Again.
• • •
When the music started up, Nioclas offered Emma his hand before Aidan could make his way across the great hall.
Emma took it, suspicious. Something was up, but she couldn’t figure out what. Instead of leading her to the line of people forming for the next dance, he walked with her slowly around the room. He greeted various people as they circled the tables and introduced her to almost everyone. Emma knew better than to question what he was doing in front of others, her language aside. He was the laird, and if he wanted to walk her around the room, he would walk her around the room.
After awhile, Nioclas leaned down and said quietly, “If I might ask you a few questions, Lady Emma?”
“Um, sure,” she replied nervously.
“I do not mean to intimidate you,” Nioclas informed her. He motioned for her to head toward the enormous hearth.
“Well, you do,” she replied boldly. “You’re very serious.”
“In comparison to my younger brother?” he asked, stopping when they reached the wall.
“Not just him. Everyone. You seem like someone I don’t want to cross.”
“Intelligent observation. A key trait in a life partner,” Nioclas mused. Before she could respond to that, he went on, “Aidan was seven years old when our mother was killed. He witnessed it. He came to me, terrified as any child would be, and unsure who he could trust. You see, it was our sire who killed her. Aidan’s faith in people was shaken that day, and I made certain that he could always rely on me to be the one constant in his life. He needed a lot of time to learn how to trust again, but he did it. I never left him behind, never put him in a place where he wasn’t safe from the world. When he was old enough to begin training, I ensured he stayed at the castle instead of being sent to a neighboring ally, because—again—he needed reassurance that he had at least one person on his side.”
“I had no idea,” Emma whispered.
“When he went missing on a mission I had assigned him, I was destroyed. I blamed myself for many years, and just when I’d given up hope of ever seeing my brother in this world again, he comes riding into my bailey as though he just left last week. I must wonder why he came now.”
Your guess is as good as mine, she thought with a snort.
“I believe he came because he needed the reassurance that the most important thing in his life would be protected while he dispatched the threat.” Nioclas surveyed the crowd, then back at her. “It is a difficult thing in your time to dispatch a threat.”
“He plans to dispatch Ben?” Emma asked, her mind whirling. “As in kill him?”
“I’m unsure. Do not think him cruel or evil,” Nioclas warned. “Our time has certain rules that govern it. Death is the only thing that will stop the man who wants you dead. You or him, Lady Emma.” He took a breath. “I’m asking you to try to place your trust in the man Aidan is.”
She pressed her lips together. “With all due respect, Laird MacWilliam, your brother has made it very clear that I’m nothing to him.”
He inclined his head. “It seems to be a very large thing to bring you here if you truly mean nothing to him.”
“You cannot hide behind my brother,” Aidan interrupted as he approached them, smiling. “I’ve come for my dance, Lady Emma.”
Nioclas gave her a swift bow and walked away without further comment.
“Your brother is a little scary,” she admitted, watching Nioclas as he rejoined Brianagh.
“He only appears so, to properly intimidate the other clans. He keeps peace through his reputation of war.”
“Reputation of war? Yeah. Scary.”
“Unfortunately,” Aidan said as he led her into the throng of dancers, “that’s life here. Peace one moment, war the next. Do you know the steps?”
“Of war?” she asked.
“No, the dance,” he said, laughter in his eyes.
“It’s hard to keep up with you sometimes,” she said on a sigh. “You change topics very quickly.”
“I like to keep your mind engaged. So,” he responded with a cheeky grin, “do you know the steps?”
“No,” she admitted, refusing to be stymied by his sudden, inexplicable good cheer. “But then again, you knew that.”
“True, I did. Which is why I told Nick to take you around the hall during the first set. This one is not a structured dance.”
“You are making my life difficult,” Emma announced as he pulled her in close.
“You realize that if you just gave into my charm, your life would be so much easier.”
Charm? For a moment, Emma thought back to the Aidan of the last few weeks. She thought of how easy it would be to wake up next to him every morning, laugh with him every day, and feel the erratic beat of her heart each time his eyes devoured her, dark with desire. She thought about what his brother said, and oh, how she wanted to give in to him. But she’d given her heart away before, hadn’t she? And all she received from that was constant fear and a very real death threat.
Here she was, her heart so entwined with this man, and Aidan had all but admitted he only needed her to fulfill some obligation to his cousin.
She had to untangle herself, and fast.
Aidan spun her suddenly, then drew her even closer to him.
“Stop thinking so hard,” he murmured. “Let me help you separate the men from the boys, Emma. Men stand by their vows.”
“And boys don’t?” she replied, leaning back slightly.
“I think you know the answer to that.”
He spun her again, bringing her flush against his chest. “Sometimes, when your soul finds its mate, it lets out a great sigh, and with it, you fall.”
“When you fall, you get hurt,” Emma replied curtly.
He placed his lips against her ear. “I’ll catch you, Emmaline. I vow it. Let yourself fall.”
The music stopped, and the people around them clapped for the musicians. Aidan bowed slightly. “When you’re ready, I’ll be here. Arms open.” He winked. “Guaranteed catch.”
She watched him take his leave of the floor, nonplussed. Nothing was ever guaranteed.
She’d
be a fool to forget that.
Chapter 17
Emma strolled along slowly, marveling at the order of the garden outside the kitchen. The rows stretched out neatly, twenty or more plants in full glory in each row. They were all labeled—garlic, onion, leeks, cabbage, celery, spinach, carrots. The rows were extensive, and had a surprising amount of variety.
“Reilly sends seeds back here with various travelers he comes across.”
Emma nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun around. “Lady Brianagh! I thought I was alone.”
Bri’s expression was faraway as she gazed at the bounty. “It’s quite amazing what grows in the soil here. I was never much of a gardener growing up, but here, we have to grow or raise everything. And it’s not just us we have to feed,” she went on, bending down to check one of the plants. “It’s an entire clan.”
“This doesn’t seem like enough to feed a clan,” Emma said dubiously. It was a great garden for a family of four, but a family of five hundred or more? She couldn’t see it.
“We’ve cultivated it so these can be grown in the fields adjacent to the castle.” She added in a whisper, “Though I chose to live in the Middle Ages, I insert a bit of the twenty-first century whenever I can.” She straightened and brushed her hands on her skirt. “Of course, only when it won’t impact history. If it’s not elsewhere in Ireland, we don’t trade it.”
The sun broke free of the clouds, and a ray of sunshine lit up the garden. Emma raised her face to the sun, enjoying the warmth. After a moment, she whispered, “Was it worth it?”
Brianagh didn’t have to ask what she meant. “Absolutely.”
“Even when it’s cold, and war comes to your front door,” Emma pressed. “And when you can’t take a hot shower, or call your cousin, or even pop down to your local supermarket for some ice cream?”
“Aside from the ice cream, which is cruel to bring up in front of me, being as my lifelong hiatus from it is detrimental to my overall well-being, all the other stuff is just filler. It replaces meaningful relationships with fluff. Unnecessary fluff. I’d love to call Colin, or James, or my aunt and uncle, but I can’t. It’s a fact of life that I’ve come to terms with.” Brianagh leaned down and pulled a couple of leaves from another plant. “Hot showers mean nothing to me anymore. I love a long soak in the tub—it’s a time for me, when I can relax and fully unwind. I never took that kind of time for myself when I was working all the time. Celtic Connections is a great accomplishment, but I’m so thankful I’m not part of it anymore. It would’ve sucked me dry.”
Brianagh looked at peace. There were no dark circles under her eyes from working late, no hunched back from too many hours at a computer. Her hands bore some calluses, but the ring on her left hand shone brightly in the sun. She was completely at ease with herself and her home.
And her choices.
Emma felt a prick of tears. She hadn’t felt at ease with herself in years—she had worked herself into the ground, only to come up for air and see that there was nothing to show for it. Her home was four walls in the middle of a city—generic art hung on the neutral-colored walls, neutral-toned wood floors did nothing to warm her toes, and her kitchen consisted of a two-burner stove with a half-size oven, a small broken microwave, and an apartment-sized refrigerator.
Well, it used to, anyway.
“When was the last time you had a long soak in a tub, with nothing but happy thoughts in your mind?” Brianagh asked softly, slowly twirling a stem of basil between her fingers.
Emma watched it spin and fought the tears. “Maybe when I was a child. But if it happened, I don’t remember it.”
“What about your family?” Bri asked. “When you visit them, are you relaxed?”
Emma swallowed with difficulty. “I have no family.”
“I’m so sorry,” Bri murmured.
Emma dashed a tear from her cheek. “Some people in life get everything. Success, money, family, love. Then there are others who work really hard, but the only thing they get is another day of hard work without reward.”
“Hmm,” Bri said, her eyes full of compassion. “How would you define those words? Success, money, family, and love?”
“With pretty standard definitions,” Emma replied with a shrug, striving for nonchalance.
“Humor me, then. Let’s start with success,” Bri said, leading her down the rows toward a bench set in the stone wall. “For some, it means becoming the president of a company or the laird of a clan. For others, it’s raising happy children or saving an injured animal.”
They sat down. Emma refused to look at Bri, afraid her tears would overflow the moment she saw the understanding in the woman’s eyes.
“Money,” Bri continued thoughtfully. “Well, in another lifetime, I would’ve said you need money to be successful. And money is important, no doubt. But how much do you need? A lot? A bit? I’ve come to realize that I only need what it will take for me and my family to stay warm with full bellies.”
Emma let out a sigh.
Bri stretched her arms above her head and smiled into the sunshine. “The last two—family and love…well, those are there for the taking.”
Emma’s head snapped up. “That’s where you’re wrong. Love isn’t something you can find—trust me, I looked. In fact, I thought I had it, and look where that landed me.”
Bri frowned. “Not all men are bad, Emma.”
“But love doesn’t happen to everyone. I don’t think I’m cut out for love. There’s too much you have to give of yourself to see any reward. And, as my history has demonstrated repeatedly, giving doesn’t get me anything but pain.” Her voice caught on a sob. “I don’t think there’s anything left of me to give, anyway.”
Brianagh put her arm around Emma and gave her a squeeze. “I think you have a lot to give, Em. More than a lot. I’m not the only one who believes that.”
Emma gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Oh, Bri, if you’re referring to Aidan, you’re so wrong. He’s one of the lucky ones—crazy success, ungodly amounts of money, and the love of an amazing family.” She shook her head, not bothering to check the tears anymore. “But he doesn’t need me. He sees me as a challenge. He’s been trying to get back to this life for years, and my life isn’t here…I could never make his life any better, and eventually he’d get bored, like they all do. I won’t risk feeling that way again.”
Bri wrapped her other arm around Emma. “Some risks are worth taking. I say this from experience, Emma.” She pulled back and searched her eyes. “Love is a risk worth taking. True love is more than the lust, more than the overwhelming feelings of joy. It’s in the mundane. The way he puts food on your plate before serving himself, when he gives his cloak when you’re without. The way he puts your life above his own, always. The number of guards he employs to ensure nothing happens to you when he can’t be there to protect you himself. The way he holds you, as though you’re both the most delicate and strongest creature in the world… That’s true love, Emma.”
Emma’s eyes filled again as memories flooded her mind. Aidan covering her body completely, to protect her body from the shattering glass when they were shot at in New York City. The way he wrapped her in his cloak as they made their way to the MacWilliam castle, the number of guards dedicated specifically to her safety…
Did Aidan love her? Because, damn the man, she certainly loved him. But that wouldn’t be enough.
A loud cheer sounded from behind them, and Brianagh stood. “Come on. The tournament’s set to begin soon, and we need to get cleaned up.”
Emma took a deep breath and let it out shakily. Nodding, she took Brianagh’s arm, and they hurried back to the castle. Was she ready to fall?
She thought that maybe she ought to find out.
• • •
“Oh my God.”
Brianagh laughed at Emma’s expression. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
Emma stared out over the lists, awed. Clan-colored flags hung from a series of long wooden beams, placed end t
o end on supports, directly through the middle of the enclosure. The same flags hung in the wooden stands, where people were quickly filling up the seats in their respective areas. The largest section was decorated with blue-and-gray flags, and hung from what looked like a president’s box above the tallest stand was a large tapestry emblazoned with a shield. On it, a hawk proudly flew, its wings spread wide, a shield on its chest…and that shield displayed the letter M, leaves of ivy snaking their way around each line of the letter, with a sword slicing across the M and its foliage.
Just like the napkin at The Colcannon, Emma remembered. She felt a strange sense of worlds colliding as she studied the tapestry.
“We’re heading up there, to the best seats in the house,” Brianagh said excitedly, dragging her up the steps.
From the higher vantage point, Emma could see clear across the crowd, down into the jousting area, and the one marked for swordsmanship. The MacWilliam section was filled with a few hundred people, all waving flags or wearing blue. The Monaghans wore their bright green, and though they were small in number, they certainly made up for it in noise. Emma counted eight different clans gathered for the tournament, and she concluded that this was a very big event. She hadn’t ever read that eight clans gathered together peacefully. One or two, perhaps, but eight…
“How do you do it?” she asked Brianagh, unable to overcome her amazement. “All these clans, in one place, without fighting?”
“Love conquers all, Emma.” She glanced out at the crowd, a happy grin on her face. “It really does.”
A horn blew from below, and there was a mad dash to find seats. People were cheering wildly, and women were lining the front row, displaying their ample charms.
“They’re hoping for a flag from one of the warriors,” Bri explained. “In exchange, they’ll give him a favor—in our case, instead of a ribbon, it’s a kiss!”
Emma laughed. “I guess that’s one way to go about it.”
The horn blew again, and this time, a line of horses galloped in, kicking up dust as they circled the arena, the men holding their clan’s flag high. Each man was dressed in chain mail, the sounds of it just audible under the beat of hooves. The arena pulsed with energy as the ladies in front started calling and cheering, and the men behind them booed until their own clansman passed by, at which point they went wild.
An Enchanted Spring: Mists of Fate - Book Two Page 21
