Emma continued, “Eleanor Carberry is twenty-eight years old, and she currently lives in England. She’s a bookseller in London.”
Colin groaned. “She sounds boring.”
Emma laughed. “She may be, but boring isn’t a challenge we haven’t overcome before. We really don’t have a choice here. If we don’t do this, Emsworth will write another article, claiming that she offered us this option but we declined. Then we’ll be seen as unfriendly Americans looking to cash in on the motherland. If we take her up on this, then at least we gave it a shot. The truth is that her publication—”
“I think callingThe Daily Sleazea publication is insulting to real journalistic endeavors,” Colin cut in sourly.
“Herpublication, despite what we think of it, sways a lot of readers. Alot, Colin. Enough that when people search for us online, this article is one of the top results. Also, the paper is calledThe British Tea Times, notThe Daily Sleaze. We can’t just ignore her and hope she goes away.”
“But if we give in to her, who’s to say other people won’t line up behind her and demand the same thing? When would it stop?”
“We could point those folks back to the success of this match. It will be publicized enough that the weight should carry.”
Aidan grinned. “So failure is not an option.”
“It never is,” Emma agreed. She looked expectantly at Colin, her heather eyes sparkling. “Aidan and I are going home to Ireland in a few days. And we have recruiting engagements set up in both Dublin and London. If I don’t have an official answer to Emsworth’s allegations, we’re sunk.” She pursed her lips. “You hired me as a publicist, Colin. Let me do my job. Give me the go-ahead that we’ll match the niece, and I’ll spin it in all sorts of good ways once we get Ms. Carberry’s agreement. But we all have to be on the same page to present a unified front as a company.”
“I love when she gets serious,” Aidan murmured, giving Emma scorching look.
“Can we please focus on Celtic Connections for a moment?” Colin asked, feigning disgust. In truth, he couldn’t be happier for his cousin, now that Aidan found love. And with everything they had gone through to be together…Colin couldn’treallybegrudge him and Emma their smiles.
But he could redirect their attention. “All right. We’ll do it. But I want the niece—Elena?”
“Eleanor.”
“Whatever she’s called, she has to agree to this. We do not force anyone to participate. Make that crystal clear.”
Emma nodded, jotting down the note. “Absolutely. Who do you want to put on this match?”
“What about Candice or Mike?” Aidan asked. “They’ve each made a strong and difficult match in the last year, and either of them could successfully match Miss Carberry.”
Colin shook his head, determined. “Not this time. If we’re going to sink over there, it’s on my shoulders. I’ll take Miss Blueberry on myself.”
“Carberry,” Emma replied absently. Then, surprise flitted across her face as his words registered. “I thought you didn’t match clients anymore?”
Before he could answer, her phone rang, and she gave himan apologetic look as she held up the phone. “The press again. Excuse me.” She quickly left the office and shut the door behind her.
Colin threw a pencil at Aidan, whose lips remained in a half smile as he eyed the door Emma had just exited through. “Good God, MacWilliam. Pull yourself together!”
Aidan chuckled. “When you find yours, cousin, you’ll be the same way. Mark my words.”
Colin scratched the back of his neck. “That sounds ominous. I’m quite content without any attachments, thanks.”
“You can be a Protector and a good mate,” Aidan offered.
Emma reentered the room, a confused look on her face. “Is that what you call it? A Protector?”
Aidan draped his arm around her waist and drew her close to him. “Aye. In our unwieldy family tree, one person from each generation is given the ability to travel through time.”
“Right. To protect the line,” Emma said. “It’s why you and I had to go back to the Middle Ages.” She shuddered. “Let’s not do that again. No disrespect meant, of course,” she added hastily.
Aidan, being of medieval birth himself, merely smiled. “Legend has it that every hundred years or so, or every other generation, a Protector is born, and he can travel through time without restrictions.”
Colin snorted. “Oh, trust me. There are restrictions. Lots of them.”
On his fifteenth birthday, Colin’s mother, Evelyn, and his cousin, Reilly O’Malley, had given him a birthday gift together—a silver pocket watch. The face of the watch was amber, engraved with a red lion that proudly reared up on its hind legs, and the numbers were more like symbols. When Colin questioned it, Reilly told him a tale of a family who had a secret to protect; only one person from each generationwas entrusted with the task of keeping that secret—and that family—safe.
Reilly explained that he, Colin O’Rourke, was that person, and his secret was that of time travel. He could bend time, and he could move others through time as well. The true purpose of the power was to protect his family line when it was in danger of being exposed or threatened with annihilation. After Reilly brought him to Ireland and showed him exactly what his power could do, Colin eagerly accepted the gift.