Page 47 of An Enchanted Spring
“How so?”
“When you signed that contract, you signed on for a bit more than just the job.”
Emma paused, her shirt over her face, and thought,Did I read that contract all the way through?
“It’s not in the document itself,” he added as though he read her thoughts.
She quickly tugged her shirt the rest of the way down. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“In medieval Ireland, each clan has —had— a laird. A manwho offered protection from those who wished to harm his clan folk.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “For the MacWilliams, my brother was the laird.”
“I didn’t think there were lairds in Ireland still? Unless you mean he’s nobility. Oh my God, you’renobility—”
“Nay, lass, I’m not nobility,” he chuckled.
“That would explain your money, your connections—”
Aidan gently grasped her arms. “Emmaline. I am not nobility. But I am the current laird of the MacWilliams, small in number we may be.”
A small frown marred her face. “Okay. Congratulations on your title?”
He laughed then. “Thank you, but that’s not why I’m telling you this. When you agreed to work for me, you came under my protection. If we were in medieval Ireland, and you were, say, a blacksmith, and you came to work for me, you would then become one of the clans folk. Clans folk belong to the laird, and they all fall under my protection. I’d house you, feed you, and ensure you had adequate clothing to do your job. In return, you would create my swords, my eating utensils, and shoes for my horses.”
Her eyes widened. “I belong to no one.”
“Aye, I imagine not. But like it or not, you’re now under my protection. I’m effectively your laird.”
She blinked at him. “I’m sorry,what?”
Aidan looked at Emma,wondering how he could possibly explain it better without making her think him insane.
Brianagh had taken it well when Nioclas explained it to her. Of course, she was actuallyinthe Middle Ages at that point, so perhaps she had a better sphere of reference…
He sighed. “I’m not sure that as a modern woman you can understand the mentality behind it.”
“Modern woman?” she echoed. “That sounds vaguely patronizing.”
He sat on the edge of the bed. “Another cultural difference, I assure you. But as your laird, you have my full protection.”
“What if I don’t want it?”
He frowned severely. “Why would you not? You’re in a bad place. This ex of yours is determined to harm you. I can offer you protection.”
“What’s that mean, exactly?” she demanded as she hopped into her jeans.
He scratched his neck. “Well…I take care of you until you’re safe.”
“Take care of me?” she repeated, her eyes hardening and tone flattening. She dropped back onto the bed. “Listen, Aidan. I appreciate the clothes. I appreciate the opportunity for this job. But I amnota charity case. I’ve taken care of myself my entire life.”
Independence and trust issues.He knew much of those himself. The lass was stubborn, to be sure, but he found that it didn’t bother him as it once would have.
The thought gave him pause. He avoided stubborn women like the plague; he had too many of those in his clan, saw too many men led around by their stubborn wives, to ever want one of his own.
Or so he used to think.
“You need to disappear. No paper trails, no way to link your whereabouts—and I can make that happen.”
She scuttled backward on the bed. “What?!”
