Page 39 of An Enchanted Spring
“This is amazing!”
“When Bri lived here this building was split into two units. I inherited this from her, and when the neighbors wanted to sell, I bought and renovated the whole thing into a single-family home. At the very least, I needed a place to store all Bri’s romance novels,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “That woman had so many, it’s no wonder she started a matchmaking service.”
Never before had Emma so wished she had a family like this one. All the men were still so devoted to their family member, years after her death, which Aidan gave her no details of but assured her Brianagh was the best of humans. Emma felt a flash of sadness for them all. The more she learned of Bri, the more certain she was that they would’ve been friends.
Of course, she’d be meeting her under really strange circumstances, so who knew what the woman would’ve thought?Hi, I’m Emma. I work for Aidan, but every time I look at him, my knees get a bit wobbly. It’s okay, though, because we’re not a thing, that’d be unethical. Oh, and I’m on the run from my ex, and I’m just going to crash here with your family until I figure out what I’m going to do.
Yeah. That’d go over well.
“…in here,” Colin was saying.
She blinked at him and ceased her imaginary conversation with a dead woman. Quickly, she promised herself to work on a real social life once she sorted her current mess out. “Sorry, I was woolgathering. What was that?”
He waved her further into the room. “I was saying, feel free to hang out in here. It’s a great place to lose yourself for a while.”
“You’re right. And thank you.” She paused. “So, if the first floor has the kitchen, living room, office, and a bathroom, and the second floor has four bedrooms…”
“Two of the bedrooms have their own bathrooms,” Colin informed her. “Aidan’s room and the one that’s unoccupied. Something’s up with the plumbing, so I’m not using it until I can get someone to fix it.”
“Okay, so four bedrooms and two bathrooms. Then you have this floor, which is incredible…what’s on the fourth floor?”
He grinned. “My master suite.”
Images of what that must look like flitted through her mind, but before she could ask, he said, “I can show it to you next, if you like.”
She cleared her throat. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Anyway,” Colin said, taking pity on her, “please feel free to make use of this room. Until your apartment is ready, I want you to feel at home here.”
“Thank you,” she replied, glancing around again. She couldn’t wait to get started—she spied a copy ofBuile Suibhne, her favorite late medieval Irish tale, and she was itching to get her hands on it to read the translation.
“The stairs over there”—he pointed to the opposite end of the room, to a matching balustrade—“go straight down to the kitchen. Feel free to bring anything up here.”
She nodded, and Colin gave her a salute before loping down the stairs.
Hurrying over to the gold book, she carefully pulled it down and grinned at the cover. She loved every single thing about medieval Ireland. Though she’d also studied the politics and religious theory, she loved the folklore and stories best.Buile Suibhnewas by far her favorite—a violent, temper-driven pagan king who’s cursed by a bishop, who ultimately finds salvation when he converts to Christianity.
The sociological truths buried in those pages made her head spin with excitement.
She carefully opened the cover and turned a page. Then another. And another, and another…and realized they were completely in Irish Gaelic.
She frowned. She didn’t recognize some of the words.
She went to flip to the copyright page, but there wasn’t one. She realized with a start that she was holding a very old copy of the original text in its original language, and she had nothing better to do than wrap herself in a fleece blanket and sit on the window seat.
Her day was looking like one of her best ever.
She placed the book on the seat, then decided she needed sustenance. She knew herself; once she cracked open that book in earnest, she wouldn’t move, even if the house was on fire. Temporarily quashing her inner history nerd, she headed downstairs.
Yet thirty minutes later, Emma sat on the comfortable window seat,Buile Suibhneforgotten in her lap.
She was frozen to the spot, her book long forgotten, absorbed by the spectacle happening three stories below her, in Colin’s tiny back garden. At first, she tried to look away. When her eyes wouldn’t comply with her demands, she tried talking to them sternly, to convince them that she was doing nothing better than spying. She even attempted to close her eyes, but it was pointless.
After all, she was watching two incredibly beautiful, shirtless men sword fight—with medieval swords—directly below her.
She could appreciate Colin’s strength and grace. His arm muscles bulged and flexed with each parry. A large, dark tattoo wound about each of his upper arms, and they seemed to dance with each thrust. The sound of his laughter was almost as loud as the ring of metal against metal. His chest was rock hard, leading to a tight six-pack that she suspected was actually more like an eight-pack. A light dusting of hair covered his chest.
Her eyes, once they’d fully scoped the male beauty that was Colin O’Rourke, strayed to Aidan. And once they landed on him, they wouldn’t move.
