I silently blink at Liam. His words took my breath clean away, and it takes me a few seconds to find my voice.

"Didn't you just say that Alazne died over 100 years ago?!"

"Oh, yes, she did," he shrugs, turning his chair sideways and stretching his long legs out in front of him. The casual pose seems out of sync with the ominous topic of our conversation, and so is my response to seeing the rather pleasing way the material of his dark trousers enhances the supple muscles of his powerful thighs.

Does he run to the clinic every day?

Liam is shockingly athletic-looking; I've never noticed it before. I have also never noticed how aesthetically pleasing his profile is. His nose, though strong and prominent, is not heavy or dominating, and his lips are delightfully sensual. I am noticing all of it now, and, startled by my uncharacteristic lasciviousness, I hurry to leave my seat and move around it to look out the window instead. It is much safer to gaze down into the hazy gardens visible over the wet roof of the ground floor, glistening from below my window to the room next door.

What on Earth is going on with me?! I can hear my blood roaring in my ears as my heart pounds erratically.

"Well, that is not disturbing at all," I tell him over my shoulder, not daring to look at him for more than a few seconds at a time. Vitamin B and iron supplements have never had this kind of effect on me before. Just how starved for love and affection am I? I've never cared about things like romance before. Usually, I'm so task and job-oriented that I get teased about Prince Charming falling off his horse at my feet and me stepping over him without noticing.

Honestly, my mentor's secretary told me that once, when I remained oblivious to the affections of a man I worked with on a project for months and he eventually gave up and moved on.

Granted, I've never known men like Billy and the Slatherty brothers before. Still, it doesn't feel natural. Am I drugged? I am drawn to Liam's scent from where I'm standing at least a few steps away from him, and he by no means bathes himself in cologne or suffers from strong body odour.

It is enticing!

I cross my arms, curling my fingers in the knitted fabric of my sweater to stop them from trembling. Every neuron in my body feels overstimulated and alive. I'm buzzing. Perhaps the coffee was too strong. I feel like I want to go for a run. I don't run... running is cruel and unusual punishment, especially for someone as uncoordinated as I am.

"One of the superstitions of this island is that the veil between life and death is thin here, and things... bleed through sometimes," Liam tells me, and I'm glad because his words drown the pleasant tremours his voice causes to surge through me each time he speaks and I'm feeling more like myself again.

"Oh, how lovely!" I exclaim, turning to glare at him. "Please tell me a highly educated man such as yourself doesn't believe nonsense like that!"

Liam's lips turn in a lopsided smile while he gazes up at me from under his long, fawn-like lashes, his eyes vivid jewels playing hide and seek among the thick dark hair. I can feel myself blush again and hastily return my attention to the window.

"To be honest, Aubrey," he says matter-of-factly. "I've seen and heard and experienced some strange things in my life, I'm open to believing many things."

"So, you think a woman who passed away 100 years ago pushed me up against the wall in the study next door and told me that the Knight of Slaughtaverty – who isn't even just one person, mind you – and I am each other's salvation?"

I glance at him in time to see him grimace and shrug again. "Well, not necessarily."

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that," I sniff, and Liam's laughter wraps around me like a warm, comforting cloak.

"To understand what I'm saying, Aubrey, you need to know a little more of the background of Peace Haven," he says, and I turn to look at him through narrowed eyes so he is a bit more blurry and less visible... for his safety...

"Between the manor and Slaughtaverty, there is an old graveyard and near it is a small village filled with people whose ancestors came to Peace Have with the Slatherties many centuries ago, near the end of the 1500s. They have always served the Slatherties. Most of them still do."

"Are they your slaves?!" I exclaim. I know this island has its own laws, and the Slatherties rule over it, but that is just unacceptable!

"What?!" Liam gasps. "No. Not slaves," he chuckles, the long fingers of one hand resting on the tabletop, gently tracing the edges of the sugar bowl, smoothly running their tips over the contours, and I hastily have to look away again.

"When they came here, more than 400 years ago, they were indentured servants owing a great debt to the Slatherties, which they vowed to repay by loyally serving the family. The ancestors who swore their loyalty have been dead for 100s of years. They are free to go wherever they want to. Nobody is forcing them to stay or to serve the family.

Some left through the centuries, and many leave now, too, but for some reason, they all come back eventually. Their traditions and beliefs run very deep, and I suppose it is hard for a person to truly turn their back on ways of life that have been instilled in them from birth. Whatever the case may be, they have many superstitions, and the veil here sometimes being pretty much non-existent, is one of those."

When Liam falls silent, I glance to the side to see him deep in thought. He is no longer having a moment with the sugar bowl; both his hands are in his lap, the fingers laced together. I can imagine that he would be good at performing surgeries or suturing wounds. He has such dexterous-looking hands. Is he the one who washed my feet and hands and pulled the spiderwebs from my hair while I slept?

"A few believe they can travel unhindered back and forth between life and death. They call them messengers because they exchange messages between the living and those who have passed from this earth many years ago."

"Ah!" I scoff. "I see, they're celestial mailing pigeons."

Liam laughs again, glancing at me. "Probably more like celestial cell phone service providers."

"Ah, cosmic Zoom meeting coordinators."

"Call it what you like, Aubrey," he chuckles. "I don't expect you to believe it, but just know that they strongly believe it. The woman you saw was probably not Alazne but someone very much like her."

That is marginally better, but then it would mean that there was a woman with me, and she dug her nails into my shoulder deep enough to break the skin, and now it is healed. That brings me back to square one. I like the idea of hallucinations so much better. They make more sense.

"Anyway, whatever she was, I would listen to her message," Liam says, his voice and expression suddenly void of all humour. "As I've said, I've seen and heard enough strange things in my life not to dismiss it outright."

I have no idea how to feel about what he is telling me. He seems like such a sober young man who has it all together, but looking at him, there is no mischief on his face. He sincerely means his recommendation.

"Very well," I mutter, rubbing my hands over my upper arms. "I'll accept that a girl from that village, wearing a very elaborate costume, told me that I should stick close to Alaric and that you guys will be my salvation, and I'll be yours. I have no idea what that is supposed to mean. I hope it won't involve blood sacrifices and being burned at the stake or something dreadful like that. I really do not like horror stories in real life."

Liam's eyes widen and he is once again washing me with the warmth of his laughter.

"I do not fancy them myself, Aubrey... not even in fiction," he assures me, his eyes suddenly a little guarded.

"Why should I stick close to Alaric when the Knight of Slaughtaverty is not just one guy but all of you? Can't I just stick close to someone else instead?"

"Don't you like him?" Liam frowns, looking truly baffled by the idea of someone not liking his brother.

"He uhm..." Tact, Aubrey! Use loads and loads of tact! "He might be a praying mantis."

"Well... that's definitely not one of the names he's been called before." Liam's face scrunches up, and he tilts his head, snorting a puzzled laugh, but he gallantly decides not to pursue the topic when I bite my lip and turn my face away, blushing like my heart is on fire.

"Alaric is the head of this family. You are under his protection," he informs me as if that is supposed to make any sense.

"From what?"

"Anything... everything."

Oh, wonderful! I do so love direct and clear answers such as that one, but I'm surprised to find that I'm too nervous to ask him for a better one with more details that actually make sense.

"How nice," I mumble, my eyes sweeping over misty, rain-drenched orchards and buildings, stretching off to the left and out of sight, returning to the glimpses of the ocean I can see, the water dark, covered in white, racing seahorses as the wind whips up the foam on the surface.

The view is breathtaking!

Movement closer to me catches my eye, and startled, I back away from the window, bumping into my chair and sending it crashing into the table with a jarring impact.

"Liam!" I exclaim in alarm. "There's someone in the room next door!"

Surprised by all my activity, Liam folds his legs and rises from the chair to stand at the window closest to him. I half expect him to say something ridiculous about veils and messengers again, but he doesn't; he merely frowns at the shadowy silhouette moving behind the silky drapes at the opposite windows, and then he turns away, purposefully striding to the bedroom door.

I run after him and grab his arm, clutching fearfully at his shirt sleeve. I do not want to be left behind. Especially not after all that talk about inter-reality Zoom meetings. I don't even care that being this close to him makes me feel light-headed and extremely nervous about what I might do next.

"It's all right, Aubrey," he says, smiling that reassuring smile I like so much. "It's probably just someone doing some dusting. I told you, you're under Alaric's protection; nothing can harm you here."

My mind fills with flashes of memories of girls with white hair and black eyes, men hovering above my bed, and a woman sneaking around in a secret tunnel, jumping at me and pushing me back... and I beg to differ... Unless those were just dreams and hallucinations.

Using his left hand, Liam pulls my hand from his arm into his right hand, and when his fingers wrap around mine, and my hand lies warmly in his, I suddenly feel less afraid. I stay close to him when we leave my bedroom, and he turns to the left, leading me to the room next door.

My courage leaves me when we reach the door and he turns the nob, fearlessly opening it. Following him inside on trembling legs, I gasp in startled surprise, my eyes flitting around, trying to take in everything at once when he turns on the lights, bathing the large room in glittering colour.

As far as I can tell, no person is skulking in here, but we've stepped through the looking glass and landed in Wonderland. Or perhaps Liam is the nutcracker, and we rode a reindeer-drawn sleigh to the Land of Sweets. Well, I don't see any sweets, but there are toys from just about every period in the history of mankind on shelves, the floor and cabinets. To one side, I can see a lovely silk-draped bassinet with an enormous teddy bear beside it.

"Liam... why would I need a nursery?" I ask, blinking my eyes to make sure I am seeing all the wonderful things I think I'm seeing. Until my arrival, the Slatherties thought I was a single man, which causes what I'm seeing to make even less sense. I'm not likely to have any children soon, and surely, a single man would've had even less chance of that than I do.

"It's not a nursery, Aubrey," Liam chuckles. "Through the years, most of the Slatherty children's toys made their way to this room. The idea was to clear it out should you require the space for something. Would you like me to arrange for all of it to be removed? Do you need this room? We could set it up with anything you need?"

"Oh, no! This is the most amazing room I've ever seen!" I exclaim, so enthralled I've almost forgotten why we came in here. By the time I remember, I'm in the middle of the room, surrounded by rocking horses, remote control cars and dolls - plastic, cloth and porcelain - seated on the tiers of an old display case. Turning full circle, I anxiously search every shadow for movement.

"There is no one in here except us, Aubrey," Liam assures me with conviction, crossing to the wall section directly across from where the secret door in my room is.

I follow him, once again twisting my fingers in the soft fabric of his charcoal shirt when he stops in front of another passionate painting by William Turner. This one is of the sea with a ship sailing into the burning horizon. It is quite stunning.

"Are all the secret doors in this mansion covered by Turner paintings?" I don't remember clearly, but I'm pretty sure the one Ransford led me through was also a Turner painting.

"No," he says, running his fingers along the edge of the painting, searching for the trigger. "But all the Turner paintings are secret doors."

That is handy information. I cannot remember what I saw in the study; I hadn't been in there long, but there were definitely no Turner paintings in my Rococo drawing room. Then again, the painting on the wall that spit me out into the salon where I saw Liam and Billy talk did not have a Turner painting; it had a portrait of Sadhbh.

"Here," Liam says, taking my hand and guiding my fingers to feel the indentations along the edge of the painting's frame. I slide my hand in further and pull, and as expected, a section of the wall moves towards me. Even though it doesn't come as a surprise, it still scares me and pulling away, I slip behind Liam, holding onto him while I peek past him into the darkness. The air in there is stagnant and thick, choked with dust.

It is disconcerting that I don't see any footprints on the dirty floor. My vision is restricted to a few steps inside, and the amount of cobwebs draped from the ceiling causes my stomach to turn uncomfortably, sloshing my lunch around unpleasantly. The person we saw through the window could've left this room via the official door while we were heading to my bedroom door. The staff members do tend to stay out of sight. This is not so weird.

That is what I keep on telling myself.

"So this room connects to my bedroom's secret corridor?"

It doesn't really make sense. When I entered the tunnel from my room, I walked a few steps before I reached the crossroads. This door and the one in my room are directly across each other and not all that far apart. According to my logic, I couldn't have run into cross paths when I did. I would've been at this door long before that.

"No," Liam clarifies. "This door leads into a corridor going down. The one from your room leads to a corridor going up. The two corridors don't meet; in this section, they pass beside each other with a wall between them.

That makes some sense, except that I didn't feel like I was climbing up and looking into this one, I cannot tell that it is leading down.

"How do you know this one is going down?"

Liam slips his phone from his pants pocket and turns on the torch.

"We don't have to go down it!" I exclaim, backing away, but he circles his arm around my waist.

"No, look!" He says, directing his light to the edge between the tunnel floor and the wall, and now I can see a slight slant downward. "The decline is very gradual, and the steps are deep and low. If you don't know you're stepping up or down, you might think you're just stubbing your toe against something or staggering. Walking in there is quite disorienting, but there are definite steps until you reach the level it's leading to."

"I see," I say, and hurry to push the door closed and feel for the trigger to lock it, testing it a few times to ensure it is locked.

"Why is this place so full of secret tunnels, Liam? Were your ancestors smugglers?"

He smiles, his eyes running gently over my face, and there my heart goes again, racing like a wild horse. "Sometimes one needs to be able to move around unseen."

"Really? One does?" I ask with wide eyes, ready to kick him in the shins, but he disarms me by laughing and, reaching out, he tucks a stray ringlet behind my ear.

"It's okay, Aubrey, it's locked now."

"Someone could just unlock it again," I point out, rubbing my hands over my upper arms, unable to shake the unease creeping around my nerve endings. Not even looking into Liam's vibrantly beautiful eyes is helping.

"Aubrey, you're-"

"Under the protection of Alaric," I huff, moving past him. "I heard you the first 99 times," I groan, striding away from him, once again searching the shadows for a possible intruder. I'm soon under the spell of all the treasures around me, though.

"I love toys," I admit to Liam when he joins me at a beautiful waist-high antique doll house with furniture, carpets, lighting fixtures and curtains. It is a work of art. It's been opened, the front splitting into two wings, to create the interior of a beautiful three-story mansion. I'm shocked to see a rather modern Barbie doll embracing Ken on an antique couch... and I don't even want to know what the two dolls in the one bedroom are doing.

"Especially antique ones," I sigh, picking up a large wooden horse and gazing into its painted eyes and carved mouth. "Like this one. It must've been someone's favourite at some time."

It's quite battered but beautiful; the craftsmanship is astounding.

"Yes, it was," Liam sighs, stroking a finger over the sleek muscles of the prancing horse.

"There's something extremely sad about toys that don't have children playing with them," I observe, putting the horse back in its space. My eyes once again drift to the amorous couple on the couch, bringing a confused frown to my face. Are those Saoirse's? Did she pose them like that?

"That's true," Liam agrees, sounding nostalgic while he looks at the variety of toy cars on the surface of a cabinet.

"Don't any of you dream of getting married and filling this mansion with children to play with all of this?" I ask, as all the men I've met so far seem to be sworn bachelors, and they are not getting any younger.

"Dreams... tend to be elusive," he murmurs, and when I turn to him, surprised by the melancholic tone of his voice, he suddenly grins widely, looking a little like a young boy right now. "Come, I'll show you my favourite."

He grabs my hand and leads me to the back of the spacious room and I feel like a kid in a toy store, my mouth hanging open at all the wonders I'm seeing around me on our way. He stops when we reach a huge table, and I clap a hand over my mouth to suppress a gleeful giggle from making me sound like a little girl.

Stretched out before me is an entire miniature town with hills and houses, a post office, shops, a school and train stations. Letting go of my hand, Liam fidgets with some switches at the side of the table, and suddenly, lights appear in the windows, and trains start to run along the many crisscrossing tracks.

"This is incredible!" I squeal, no longer caring that I'm sounding like a child.

"Yes," Liam agrees. "I spent many hours playing with this when I was a kid."

Glancing up at him, I marvel at how young and alive he looks right now, his eyes shining and his smile brilliant and white.

"It is so well preserved!" I remark, swallowing against an emotional lump settling in my throat. "I've never seen a set this old in such good condition."

"We take excellent care of it. We had to rebuild it a bit on occasion, though. It was hooked up to electricity when electricity became a thing, which just makes it so much more awesome."

Listening to Liam animatedly chatting about his favourite childhood toy and pointing out parts of the scenery that had been replaced not too many years ago, I find myself giggling a lot. He sometimes expresses himself in such a strange way, talking about his ancestors and the things they did as if he were a first-hand witness.

"It's wonderful," I sigh, moving around the table, peeking into the windows of the buildings, thrilled to see scenes set up inside them. Families are having dinner, and children are playing with toys and pets. The shops have clients being served, the school is in session, and even the hospital has beds and patients. "I love this so much!"

I've always had a thing for miniatures and models; these are the most amazing I've ever seen, and it is made even more fun by having Liam with me, suddenly filled with mischief and life. For now, there is little trace of the strong, quiet medical practitioner I got to know.

I give Liam a suspicious look when I find a man and a woman lying on the ground in a clearing circled by trees next to a small glass pond. Two bicycles are standing near them, and from the way the figurines' bodies are contorted, I suspect that they belong on those bicycles. They are, however, now entangled with each other.

In fact, looking around at the movable figures set out all over the landscape and outside of the buildings, it appears that a highly romantic wind has swept through the little town as each figurine is somehow embracing another one.

"Uhm... Liam," I frown, raising an eyebrow and glancing from him to the amorous scenes and back. At first, he is too captivated by the train he is sending through a tunnel on its way to the hospital with medicine retrieved from a nearby town (we were working on a story) to realise what I'm showing him. He finally sees it, and his ears grow delightfully pink. He gives an awkward little laugh, plucks the cyclists off the fake grass and returns them to their bicycles.

"Ransford used to do this kind of thing to mess with me all the time when we were growing up," he chuckles. "I think he created this welcoming gift for you, Aubrey," he grins, glancing towards the doll house where Ken and Barbie are having a moment in their living room. "Yup, that was definitely him."

I laugh, shaking my head and help Liam set up some more normal scenes with the tiny people. It is fun placing the figures in engaging scenarios and directing the trains along routes where they won't derail or collide and we are soon laughing like happy children.

No! This is not weird at all!

"Liam, will you go in there with me?" I ask him when we've finally turned off the trains and the lights, and he's closing the door behind us. I gesture towards the door opposite the toy room, and he again gives me that gentle smile that always melts my heart.

"There are no secret tunnels in there, Aubrey," he assures me.

"You know the location of all of them by heart?"

"More or less," he nods. "But that room is not built in a way that allows for one. Haven't you been in there?" It must seem strange that I've not explored the majority of the rooms here in my wing of the house, but when I shake my head, biting my lip, Liam doesn't say anything about it. He simply takes my hand and crosses the hallway with me.

Holding his hand is starting to feel very natural. I don't question it at all, and I rather appreciate it. When he opens the door and strides inside, I don't hide behind him again; I walk inside boldly, still holding onto his hand.

"What?!" I exclaim when he turns on the lights, and I'm greeted by glass and steel, mirrors and high-intensity LED lights. "Liam, this is a gym!" I inform him, glaring at the three machines, a boxing bag and yoga mats. Against the wall above the mats is a mounted TV.

I don't like gyms; they are scary places that shout accusations at you when you walk past them, knowing you're on your way home to crash on your couch and read a book. Weaving through the exercise machines and kicking a huge rubber ball out of my way, I'm glad to find a less scary area behind all that glass, light and torture devices.

"It's actually more of an activities room," Liam says, following me, indicating an easel with a paint-splattered cabinet beside it and a puzzle-building table. On a craft table, someone long ago started to build a model airplane, but never finished it. It is covered in a layer of dust, pushed into a corner, and forgotten. I find the sight rather sad.

"Who's the artist?" I ask, looking at the antique easel and the collection of paint-encrusted bottles holding what once were paintbrushes. Liam's eyes flicker over them for a few seconds, his lips twitching and a look of such intense pain washes over his face that I regret asking the question.

"My sister used to love painting," he breathes in a voice devoid of light. Suddenly, I miss his laughter and childlike joy when he was playing with his trains. I have so many questions, and he might realise that because he shakes off the distraught expression and smiles at me. "She passed away... long ago."

"I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," he says, crossing to one of the windows, gazing outside while I discover more abandoned projects and boxes of puzzles waiting to be built. "Come, I want to show you something." He turns from the window and strides towards the door, and I have to hurry to catch up with him.

This gym might come in handy now that I'm eating three full meals a day... when I'm awake... I'll probably get quite fat if I don't do something to enhance my fitness and burn some calories. Besides, I feel uncharacteristically energetic today.

I will get a bit of a workout on the days I spend actively assessing and recording furniture and art pieces, but having a private gym is not bad at all... I suppose. Nobody can laugh at me for being clumsy and...

Oh dear! I'm going to injure myself in here, aren't I?

Liam opens the door between the drawing room and the activities room; it is the door directly across from my bedroom. I follow him through the door and am surprised to be outside on a beautiful veranda covered in luscious plants and wrought iron tables, benches and chairs. It's a private garden built on the roof of the first floor, between the drawing room and the activities room. The walls on either side are covered in ivy lacework.

The garden doesn't stretch all the way to the end of the two rooms on either side; it stops about halfway and walking to the edge, I'm kept from plunging off it by a low wall with a carved wrought iron trim on top of it.

The rain has paused in its quest to drench the world, but the sky is heavy with the promise of more to come any second. The stone floor and furniture are covered in puddles, the leaves of all the plants dripping with droplets clinging to them like sparkling crystals. The air is fresh and clean, and I can feel all the cobwebs and dread clearing from my mind with every deep breath I take.

"This is Heaven!" I smile, turning when Liam joins me at the border, gazing out at the raw, black cliffs dropping down from the edges of the mansion into the ocean far below. It is a little frightening to see how close to the perimeter the manor was built.

If I fell from where I'm standing now, I would land on the rocky rim of the cliff, but if I fell from a back window of the gym, I'd fall down the cliff directly into the ocean. The cliffs form a right angle where the terrace ends, stretching off into the distance, where the road leading to the manor skirts it.

To my right, where I estimate my drawing room ends, the building continues on along the long branch of the cliff's right angle until it swerves inland and out of sight.

This terrace is sheltered from strong winds by the gym on one side and the longer body of the mansion on the other side. It will be very pleasant to have some of my meals out here when it is not raining.

Turning my head and looking up, I trace Liam's profile with my eyes while he gazes at the sea, and my heart flutters pleasantly in my chest. He doesn't resemble his brothers as much as they resemble each other. He must take after one parent while they take after the other.

The struggling sun is teasing glimmering rainbows from his dark auburn hair, and when he becomes aware of my scrutiny, he tilts his head to look at me. His eyes, though more stormy and cold in colour than the actual ocean beneath, are filled with warmth, and so is his smile.

I'm once again fondly reminded of his wide, joyful grin while we were playing with the trains and interacting with the figurines, making up stories. Right now, standing here in the fresh air, all the things I feared seem so far, far away. Here in the soft light from a sky heavy with unshed raindrops and a gentle breeze tugging at my hair, I feel content, almost happy.

"Do you also kiss people and then run off?" I hear myself ask and am not surprised when he laughs, looking startled by my words.

I am startled too! What the heck am I doing?!

"Uhm... I don't think so," he says, and when, feeling flustered, I turn to walk away, he grabs my arm and pulls me towards him, stopping my embarrassed flight. "Should we try to find out?"

"Oh, why not?" I snort. I mean... I have a list, apparently; I might as well tick him off it...

He chuckles softly, and I'm not surprised that when he leans over, and his lips find mine, they're gentle and slightly cooled by the air around us. His kiss is light, breezy and unthreatening, just strong enough to be felt and counted as a real kiss. When he lifts his head after a few sweet seconds, his ears are a little red, and his cheeks are flushed. He laughs almost shyly, gazing down into my eyes.

"Oh!" he gasps when the first drops of rain splatters on my upturned face and into his hair. "I promise I'm not running off," he chuckles, taking my hand. Weaving through the wet plants and furniture, we run for the door.

Well, at least this time, I'm running off too.

~~~