Page 78 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Arthur spun from where he bent by the fireplace at the sound of the bedroom door slamming against the wall. Boots, jeans, shearling coat—they were all covered in a dusting of snowflakes that shed themselves from his abrupt turn, evaporating moments from the ground.

“Sorry.” I winced. “What are you…?”

There was a mountain of split wood now stacked in the corner, the last log in Arthur’s hand… and a heap of spare bedding mounded in front of the hearth. Fur pelts too, coyote probably.

My heart shriveled like a parched vine at the sight of this second bed.

Shame threatened to take root, but I repeated Sawyer’s words, There’s no one here but you and him. I squared my shoulders once again and asked boldly, “Can I stay with you?”

Concern flickered across his features. “Is there something wrong with the bed?”

“Yes. You’re not in it.”

An amber heat flashed in his eyes, and he very carefully tossed the log onto the fire and brushed the debris from his hands. “Meadow.” He paused, wetting his lips as he chose his words. “You know what we are. But I promised myself I wouldn’t touch you again unless?—”

“I’m yours.”

He visibly shivered despite the shearling coat, the thick denim jeans, and the fire flaring at his back. His hands clenched into fists as his sides, restraining himself.

“And I know exactly what that means when I say it.”

He watched my every move as I closed the distance between us, stopping so very close, on the verge of touching him. I craned my head back to look into that handsome face. “You’re mine, Arthur Greenwood. My mate.”

Pleasure rippled down his body again, amber flashing in his eyes.

It was one thing to claim the fated mate bond when one of you was on the brink of death and more beast than man; it was another entirely to be of sound mind and body and proclaim it aloud with its truth singing in your heart.

But there was one thing left that prevented me from becoming his wholly in spirit, mind, body.

“And I owe my mate an apology. I’m sorry, Arthur,” I said in a rush. “You didn’t deserve any of this. Not the heartache, Ossian’s”—I had to spit out the word, it was so vile—“ torture , all that suffering. I wasn’t worth that.”

“I’m a Coalition enforcer,” he soothed, taking my hands. “I was built—made—to take that kind of abuse.”

I pulled back; I wasn’t done. My vision blurred with the new hurt I was about to unleash upon him, but he had to know.

There could be no more secrets between us.

“A small part of me wanted him, Arthur. Desired him. Maybe it was the aura, or the prophesy, or the fact that he had the answers to the questions of my ancestry. His power… My magic wanted that. Needed that unleashing. That growth. I can’t imagine what it was like for you, t-to see me like that.

” Truly blubbering now, I had to mop up my face with the flannel sleeves.

“It wasn’t real,” he said softly. “He had our bond, Meadow. Manipulated it to serve his purposes. That’s all . I know you, sweetheart. However he beguiled you, your heart was always mine.”

Brown hair lashed my cheeks with a flail’s sting as I shook my head. “It was real for me. I don’t know how I’ll make it up to you, but I will. I’ll apologize every day?—”

“No you will not.” Arthur’s voice had turned to granite, his gentleness gone.

He pinched my chin firm enough to startle me and lifted my face so the only thing I could see was his.

I saw then what others saw when he wore his enforcer persona instead of the lumberjack.

“If you live in that past, you will rob us of our future. That specter will overshadow everything, taint every memory we make. And he has taken up enough of our time, don’t you think? ”

I nodded, chin still captured in his hand.

“Say it. I want to hear the conviction in your voice.”

“I do.” I really did. Truly unburdened now, and forgiven and accepted as I was, I felt freer than I ever had.

“Good girl.” The praise sent a shiver straight into my belly, igniting something hidden there.

Arthur released me only to sweep the loose locks of hair behind my ear. “He never would’ve kept us apart, Meadow. Despite what you may have thought, there is no you and me . There has only ever been us . That is a bond he could never understand and one he could never break.”

He brushed the moisture left behind by my tears away with such tenderness and chuckled lowly. “He never stood a chance against us. Against you , my beautiful mate.”

Clasping his hand, I pulled it away but held it close.

“Witches don’t take mates.” My confidence wavered slightly.

No rulebook, no rulebook. “We take husbands. And I think for me, I need that normalcy. That custom. The fulfillment of a childhood fairy-tale dream. You’re not a knight with a white horse, but you do fight dragons.

Or fae hunting trees and Stag Men, whatever. ”

I sucked in a shaky breath. “So, Arthur Greenwood, will you m?—”

“Don’t even say it.”

The harsh gravel of his voice shut my mouth mid-syllable.

His hand darted out to caress my cheek—“I’m not angry at you, sweetheart,” he reassured—then reached behind him to retrieve the little cherrywood chest on top of the mantlepiece. It opened noiselessly on oiled hinges, and Arthur palmed what was inside. Wetting his lips, he opened his hand.

“I realized a while ago that though we were speaking the same language, there was a gap in our understanding.” Not looking at me, he pushed the ring around in his palm so it could catch the light.

The wood had been lovingly carved and painstakingly polished.

It gleamed with oil. “I made this as a contingency. It’s an eternity knot. Out of ash wood.”

“For protection against the fae,” I breathed. Like iron, even a splinter of mountain ash was lethal to the fae.

He nodded. “Long before the Criminal made himself known, I knew you’d be a target for those seeking power. And every little bit helps.” He finally dared a look up at me from lowered lashes. “I love you, Meadow Hawthorne. Marry me.” It wasn’t a question.

I wasn’t allowed to reply before he cursed. “Shifters don’t normally do this. Spirits, I was supposed to get down on one knee, wasn’t I?”

I bit back a smile. “I love you too, Arthur Greenwood. Do you have any bread?”

Arthur sputtered, and I watched his mind wheel back to the fake wedding at the castle. Seeded loaf . “Lemme check.”

His fingers closed around the ring as he bustled into the kitchen. He raided his cupboards with increasing frenzy. “Uh, all I have are these whole wheat crackers. Hey, do you remember?—”

“When we first met, you offered me cracker sandwiches with peanut butter and honey?” I grinned at him. “Yes I do. Do it.”

His smile was a brilliant flash of white before he turned back to the countertop. After a few minutes, he returned to the hearth with a plate of six such cracker sandwiches. “I-I didn’t know how many to make.”

“Hold out your hand.”

He did, palm up, and I clasped mine over the ring.

I took hold of the plate too. Ideally this should’ve been done in the spring, under the shade of an ancient tree, and that tree growing beside some kind of stream or river, and beneath the noonday sun to boot, but no rulebook.

There was a redbud tree arcing over the cottage, which did grow by the banks of a creek, and there was sunlight reflecting off the moon, so we were mostly there anyway.

Witnesses were preferred but not required—that tradition I’d fed Ossian about eight witness for the phases of the moon was pure rubbish.

And as far as this winter solstice was concerned, it was not auspicious.

Shortest day, longest night—it foreshadowed great strife in a marriage.

And yet, Arthur and I had beaten all the odds.

We had triumphed. The winter solstice could take its bad luck and throw whatever it could at us, and we would come out victorious and stronger than ever.

And, if you really wanted to get technical, midnight of the winter solstice had already come and gone.

It didn’t seem like it, but the days were already getting longer. Bringing more light into the world.

My body thrummed with excitement as I looked deep into Arthur’s hazel eyes, at all those new greens and golds. With sure words, I recited the age-old wedding vows of my ancestors,

“Blessings be yours and mine, our lives and love entwined.

Mother make us like two young trees on river’s edge

Growing stronger together through every age, I pledge.”

“I pledge,” Arthur echoed softly.

Peace washed over me, a rightness finding fertile soil in my heart and spreading through every channel. From the way Arthur’s eyes widened, I knew he’d felt it too. A fated mate bond was one thing, and a witch pledging herself to her husband and he to her in return was another.

Releasing his hand, I held mine aloft to receive the delicate band of ash wood.

He slipped it on with such surety I kicked myself for ever being nervous.

This was my soulmate, my Arthur. Suppressing a wry smile at my foolishness, I lifted a cracker sandwich like it was a piece of wedding cake and offered it to him.

His gaze never left mine as his lips parted, taking the whole cracker, his beard brushing against my fingers as his mouth closed.

Instinct guided him to mirror the gesture, and I had a little difficulty fitting the entire cracker sandwich into my mouth.

I giggled once at the awkwardness, wiping away the crumbs and sucking the honey and peanut butter off my fingers.

Arthur set the plate down on the hearth ledge behind him.

“Now what?” he whispered, taking my hands.

“Now you kiss your bride, husband.”