Poor Diana. I’d always thought that the inn was too cluttered with bric-a-brac, but only now did it occur to me that the ceramic creatures might have greater significance to her. Why else would Adelaide be getting rid of them if they didn’t have magical powers? It couldn’t be just because she was offended by the twee décor. Perhaps like the gnome they were guardians that protected Diana’s home and person. I recalled the way Liam brought home little tokens from the forest – round river stones, twisted bits of wood, birds’ feathers – and lined the windowsills with them. Had he been weaving a protection spell with them?

I looked around the empty room, running my hand along the windowsills. I crouched on the floor to check for loose floorboards.

“Are you looking for something?”

My hand jerked at the unexpected voice and I jammed a splinter into my finger. Looking up, I found Bill standing in the doorway gazing down at me, his cap, even indoors, pulled low over his eyes.

“I’m sorry I startled you,” he said, crouching down in front of me and taking off his cap. “I thought you knew I was up here painting the ceiling. Let me see that splinter. I’m good at getting them out, seeing as I’m always getting them myself.”

I laid my hand in his wide cupped palm, where it fit as snugly as a bird in a nest, and felt a swell of warmth that made me dizzy. It must be exhaustion from today’s circle or the pain of the splinter, which Bill was now prodding with blunt calloused fingertips – only it wasn’t really pain I felt. The current of feeling his touch released felt a lot more like desire. The feeling was so overwhelming that I let out a little moan.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s all right! It’s my own fault!” I squawked, trying to mask my reaction to Bill’s touch. I must be still under the effects of Aelvesgold. Liz was right. It was working to make me attracted to my handyman … who really was quite handsome, I thought, getting my first good look at him with his cap off. He had beautiful eyes – the color of leaves in autumn or aged brandy flecked with gold …

“Why your fault?” Bill asked.

“Oh … I was checking the planks for hiding places like I was Nancy Drew or something. My … um … boyfriend stayed in this room last winter and I thought he might have left something behind.”

“You mean like a note?” he asked, his gaze bent down, his fingertips deftly stroking my finger … which made me wonder what it would feel like to have those fingertips stroke other parts of my body.