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“Are you ready?” he said and stretched out his hand toward her.

Helen put her hand in his, and he wrapped his fingers, hiding her palm in his.

“Then let’s go.”

He led her into his sitting room, then moved the bookshelf and opened a narrow, secret passage. Helen raised a brow and he chuckled.

“Come. I promise you, it’s nothing to be scared of.”

He ducked down and entered the narrow opening, and Helen followed him without hesitation.

“When I was little, my father would always gather my older brothers in his study and teach them all the different things: to play chess, to take care of the ledgers, the math and the logic behind looking out for the estates. He read to them, too,” he said as he was moving through a narrow, dark corridor. Helen felt that he spoke only so she wouldn’t get scared and wouldn’t panic because she could see nothing in the darkness. But his hand holding hers gave her comfort, his voice kept her calm. “He never asked me to come into his study. So I spent a lot of time alone in my room. And then I found this passage and hid out here, wondering how long it would take for anyone to notice that I was gone.”

Helen’s chest squeezed for the little lonely boy in these walls. She understood now his reluctance to talk about his family. His determination to stay in England when they were all in Scotland. And yet he faced his demons and came back home in order to save her.

Her heart ached with love for the man beside her, and her heart wept for the little boy that used to be.

She loved them both. And she hated that she would have to leave him, soon.

“Is this your safe place?” she asked softly.

“Pardon me?” He paused and turned toward her, although she could only see his outline.

“Your safe place. When I started getting sick, I noticed that being very nervous and anxious could bring about my illness. So whenever I was in a stressful situation, I would think about my safe place. For a long time, my safe place used to be my childhood garden. I used to sit there for hours, reading books. The smell of roses and outdoors, the sound of birds chirping, and the feel of the wind against my skin as I got carried away into a world unknown, a world in my book… That used to be my safe place. I think about it, and then I instantly feel better.”

Ian exhaled softly. “No, I don’t think this was ever my safe place. But it was a perfect hiding place.” He tugged on her hand. “Come. I have more to show you.”

They continued weaving their way through what seemed like a labyrinth. Every once in a while, he would stop and show her a peephole leading to one of the drawing rooms, or a library, all the public spaces.

“This is the place I spent most of my time,” he said, leading her toward a cramped little area. They had to crouch to fit inside before sitting down, so they could be comfortably situated inside a box-like space.

“There used to be a blanket here,” Ian whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” Helen whispered back.

“Because we are just behind my father’s study.”

Helen blinked, then leaned in closer to the wall and could see a formidable, stocky man sitting behind the desk a few feet away from the wall. She glanced at Ian, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking around the tight space, no doubt, memories assailing him. Memories of hiding inside this little box, listening to his father reading books to his brothers.

Her heart squeezed so terribly, she had trouble breathing. Panic started crawling around her body, and her muscles tightened, her throat closing.

“Come here.” Ian tugged on her hand and wrapped his arms around her waist, hauling her onto his lap.

His hard chest propped her back, his chin resting on top of her head, as his arms held her close to him. Immediately, her heart rate slowed and her breathing adjusted to a normal rhythm.

No need to remember her safe place. Because it wasn’t that childhood garden anymore. This man, holding her in his arms, was her safe place now.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He shifted, his face now level with hers, his cheek brushing hers. “For what?”

She rubbed her cheek against his, his stubble pleasantly scratching her skin. “For telling me the truth. For sharing your past with me. For trusting me with all your secrets.”

And by saying these words, she realized how much it truly meant to her that he didn’t shut her out.

When she’d told him she’d help him uncover the truth about the murderer, she didn’t expect him to readily accept her offer. Greyson never would have.

Helen briefly closed her eyes. It was time for her to stop comparing the two men.