Page 82 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

Contemplative, Arthur rose and padded over to the fireplace to add on another few logs.

Craning my head back, I shamelessly watched the firelight curve over his naked body.

The shifting light and resulting shadows teased me with glimpses of the man he had spent decades building through hard work and dedication.

He paused between each log he added, perhaps seeking answers in the swirling embers.

He sucked in a breath with his realization or conclusion and tossed one final log into the flames.

Returning, he caught me staring at him and gave me a wink as he dropped down into our little nest of blankets and furs.

Yet instead of cuddling into me again, he sat across from me and took hold of my hand.

His thumb passed back and forth over my knuckles in a lulling monotony.

“Something tells me that a witch of your caliber is not meant for a hands-on position in the orchard or your micro bakery,” he said seriously.

“Those were both means to an end while you were working on the grimoire’s curse.

Guarding an elm tree and waiting for a dragon’s summons is not a career, and I know you.

You’re going to want to do something that makes a difference. So what do you have in mind?”

I leaned forward as if to share a secret. A dream. “I think I’m going to start a school, Arthur.”

His brows rose. “Go on.”

“Think about it: how much of all this”—I gestured to the world at large—“could’ve been avoided if my grandmother hadn’t been a knowledge gatekeeper? Or poisoned me and my family against shifters. You weren’t the Stag Man’s agents like she thought you could be.”

“The idea was idiotic,” he said sourly.

“Think of Brandi?—”

“I really don’t want to again. Once tonight was already one time too many.” He chuckled when I swatted him in that hard slab of rock he called a chest. “Careful, sweetheart, you’ll bruise.”

“Shush. Brandi was—is—a talented but undereducated hedge witch. You didn’t see her in the dungeons. She has a good heart but no one to believe in her. And then there’s Daphne and Shari.”

“Yes, they came back changed from Elfame. I smelled that.”

“They awakened in Elfame, Shari with her Unseelie hellfire and Daphne her true druidess powers. We met a human changeling in Elfame, Arthur, which means there has to be its twin, a fae changeling, here. What if that fae changeling doesn’t know what it is?

If it’s adapted to this realm long enough to reach maturity, that is.

And how are my friends, and all the others seeking answers, going to become all they can be without someone to help them? ”

His eyes softened. “Like you?”

I bit down on the corner of my lower lip as I examined my heart. Was this hubris talking? Just because I was a powerful primal witch, did that really mean I was capable of helping others? Teaching them?

If not now, then it was something I knew I could become capable of. And my friends would undeniably help me along the way.

“Like me,” I answered confidently. “Knowledge—help—like that should not be guarded or squirreled away. We all know what happens when it is. And…” I fiddled with the wedding band again. “And this I how I can give back to Redbud. It gave me a home. I can make it a home for others who are lost too.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Meadow.”

“I’m not done yet.”

I wasn’t snappish, just excited, but Arthur still held up his hands in surrender. “Apologies.”

Leaning forward, I gave him a quick kiss in apology. Just the satiny press of his lips against mine threatened to rob every thought out of my head, so I lurched back, keeping him at bay with a hand on his shoulder.

“What if the Coalition had an outreach program at the school?” I asked.

“You mean like an outpost?” The lustful haze drained from his eyes at the same time possibility brightened his expression.

“We’ve been talking about expanding for years but never wanted to risk a fledging outpost with the Criminal running loose.

Redbud’s halfway across the country, too, so an excellent staging point.

And ”—he took hold of both my hands—“it would foster improved relations between shifters and other supes. The Coalition is oath-bound to protect every magical creature, whether they like us or not. But it works better if they like us, or at least respect us.”

Almost in mimicry of me, he bit down on his bottom lip as he thought. “But there’s just one thing. How are we going to finance this?”

There’s that we again , my heart sang.

“I mean, the Coalition can help with the outpost, but our resources are limited. It’s not like we’re vampires who’ve amassing great fortunes over hundreds of years. The smart vamps, anyway.”

Leaning forward, I gripped his chin as he was so fond of doing mine and directed his gaze to the pack hanging on the peg by the front door.

“Would you believe me if I told you there was enough treasure in there to fill your bedroom from floor to ceiling? I think Olive McKatt would be more than happy to introduce us to her gold dealer, especially if she got a little commission.”

Arthur kissed my palm. “You have a solution for everything, don’t you?”

“Sometimes. And I should really write this all down. It’s the middle of the night and I might not remember it all in the morning.

” These ideas would’ve been excellent entries in my birch-bound journal, but Alec had burned it, along with all my other discoveries.

That knowledge is only temporarily lost. I’ll get it all back, one piece at a time .

“Do you have a pen and a pad of paper or something?”

He chuckled at my eagerness. “Kitchen drawer closest to the back door.”

“Thank y—” I yelped as I rolled forward onto my feet only to find my legs could not take my weight.

Arthur caught me and eased me back down. “Are you alright?”

“Ugh,” I moaned, rubbing my legs. I had noodles for bones and pudding for muscle. Clearly I’d been sitting in one position for far too long. “My legs feel like?—”

“Jelly?” he supplied. “Huh.” Arthur flopped down beside me, pillowed his hands behind his head, and gave me a boyish smirk. “And you said I didn’t do a good job.”

My legs weren’t so boneless I couldn’t roll on top of him. Or straddle him.

Arthur froze.

“If I can’t get up to write this all down, you must promise me you’ll help me remember.” I rolled my hips against his, and his hands immediately shot out from behind his head to grip my thighs. Every muscle beneath me tightened. “Especially since you’re going to render me incoherently giddy.”

“I promise,” he answered thickly. He sat up and adjusted me in his lap into a position that had us gasping in unison. Threading his fingers into my hair, he brought us forehead to forehead. “This is our future. I’ll guard it, and you, with my life, Meadow Hawthorne.”

“Meadow Thornewood,” I corrected him.

Through the bond, Arthur’s heart melted.

A new name for a new beginning. And how wild and magical it was going to be.