He had a lie on the tip of his tongue—that he thought he was in love, that he yearned for something more, but that fizzled out. “Because he was the best I could do at the time. When one is starving and someone offers you steak, even if it’s not your preference, you accept it.”
She pursed her lips and nodded sagely. “Money and power.”
“Would be lying if that didn’t earn a tick in the pro column.” Mads sipped and tilted his cup to spread the leaves and gave them a little read.Honesty, tragedy, bright futures, love.
“So how did you end up in both my sons’ beds?” She pursed her lips and raised an imperious and impeccably sculpted brow. Coquettish and a little sultry, Mads knew that Morgana had a streak of salt in her.
Mads sighed and spoke plainly. “Baron wanted me. I was happy just to be wanted. I came to visit, often, and he made no mention of meeting his family but always insinuated there was a future for us. I was swept up in the promises.”
She nodded sagely, frowning.
“Then I popped over for a visit, and Marquis was there, and I find out he’s off and mated to a fine familiar from overseas with good breeding and everything I’m not.” Mads shrugged and disrupted his leaves to see if they had anything else to say.The shape somewhat looked like a bassinet. Children were a possibility.
“And you slept with my other son without second thought?” She sniffed.
“It crossed my mind. I offered, and he turned me down out of propriety. He felt I needed some emotional care after the upheaval. Marquis and I ate, we bathed, and he read to me. I never learned much more than my letters in school, so I can’t read all that good. I went to leave before we fell asleep, and he talked me into getting some rest with him. I feared we’d be spotted come morning and there would be scandal.” Mads slung his dregs over the porch rail and poured another cup, offering Morgana a second serving as well. She tossed hers in kind.
“And there was.” She nodded.
“The maid screamed, his father came storming in, Baron shouted, and before I knew it, Marquis said he would marry me if it would set it all to rights.” Mads fidgeted before he recalled the pralines he’d made that morning and opened the tin to offer her some. She took them with delight and a toothy crunch.
“Mmh! Where did you get these treats?”
“Made them this morning. There was some sugar in the larder, and the pecans are still good.” Mads shrugged.
“Make me some of these, son, and I’ll marry you if things with Marquis don’t work out.” She hummed and ate another.
“Struggle food. Cheap, easy, quick, and good.” Mads shrugged.
“I swear, we miss out on trends these days. The covens stay so separated from humans that we lose touch. So, back on topic. How much did Arthur offer you?” A knowing look sparkled in her dark eyes.
“Enough. But if I wanted to leave, I would without a penny. Marquis doesn’t deserve that sort of betrayal.” Mads took a praline for himself, treasuring the sweetness. Adding a littlepinch of salt, pearlash, and malt to the sugar always made them better, made little bubbles in the sugar that gave them a pinch crispier of a crunch.
She nodded as if that was what she expected. “You’re not in the family way, are you?”
Mads shook his head. “I may be a fool, but I’m not fool enough to give an alpha a heat without a wedding ring. My father made that mistake.”
She sipped her tea and licked her fingertips lightly, prying away errant crumbs of praline. “And if I wanted more of these pralines to take home?”
“How much you want?” Mads gestured at the tin. “That’s all I have left from this morning.”
“A few pounds if you would. I have guests coming this evening. And how much money would you like for them?” She smiled hopefully.
Mads frowned. “Wouldn’t dream of taking your money. I’ve already taken your son. I’d have to pick up more pecans and shell them. If I get on them now, I can—”
She stood, rolled up the sleeves of her dress, lifted her skirt, and tied a knot at the hem and grinned. “I’ll help gather and shell, then. Would that save you time?”
Mads nodded and abandoned their tea as they went about the front yard picking fallen pecans from the ground, flicking off the outer shucking, and tucking them into her gathered skirts, at her insistence.
As they gathered, they spoke of anything and everything. She had a way of making Mads speak about his home and life, invested in his ingenuity when it came to money. And she read between lines, the unspoken words, that his pride would not be broken.
And soon after, they cracked pecans, clenching two at a time in their fists to break the shell and pick free the kernels, flickingaway the bitter septum within. The old hog-nosed ones leaking black oil got tossed right back into a bucket by the railing. As a pecan rotted, opening them revealed something that looked rather morbidly like a pig’s snout leaking black ichor. If they were fully dried up, they tossed them in the yard.
“What are you going to do with the rotten ones, dear?” She eyed the bucket curiously.
“Marquis makes wands.” He pursed his lips and rubbed the black contents over his fingers to reveal the grub-eaten contents. “If you soak them in water for a week until it starts to ferment, you can strain and boil down the worm-eaten ones. The scabs make enough pigment, and they have an almost greenish-hued brown. It’s a very light stain for wood. I used to use—” He quieted as she gave him a rather lingering stare.
“Go on.”
