A Little Green Magic (The Little Coven #1) - Isabel Wroth Page 0,38

when she tightened her arm around his waist. “Okay.”

Uriah didn't get a wink of sleep, but he closed his eyes and watched the Revolutionary War soldier through the cover of his lashes until what felt like hours later when he disappeared with a bored huff.

*****

It took some doing, but Uriah convinced Rowena and the rest of the girls that Ivy would be perfectly safe at his place. Rowena insisted on coming over to create a magical panic room and to put down some kind of magical alarm system that would go off if anyone stepped foot on the property with anything other than innocent intentions.

Apparently, if someone did try to get past the boundary, the offender would get wrapped up in a black, tar-like substance Callie poured into glass jars dotted around the property.

Ivy gave her sisters a tour of the house, each of them favoring a different feature, but all were in complete agreement that it was the perfect, most beautiful expression of Uriah's feelings for Ivy.

It felt good to know he’d gained the approval of his mate’s family, but he was glad when they finally left. Uriah watched exhaustion war with extreme emotion when Ivy looked at the leather-bound journal sitting on the dining room table, along with another bag of Ivy's clothes.

Not sure what to do, Uriah offered to make some food. His sweet mate gave a half-hearted smile, her hand shaking a little as she reached up to push her hair out of her face.

“Thanks, but I'm not hungry.”

“I can run you a bath.”

Ivy shook her head and picked up her mother's journal and hugged the leather book to her chest. “That... actually sounds good.”

Relieved, Uriah pulled her under his arm and let her set the pace as they climbed up the stairs together.

In the bathroom, Uriah said nothing while he turned on the taps, poured in a stream of fragrant oils, and let the tub fill up while he helped Ivy out of her clothes. When she slid into the water, it was with a heavy sigh.

Uriah pulled a stool over to sit beside her, noticing how she was very carefully not looking at the book she'd left on the counter. He leaned in, letting his hand drop down to curl against her calf, massaging the tight muscles.

“Tell me about her.”

She gave a slow blink, looking lost and confused for a minute. “My mom?”

“Mmhm.”

Ivy's lips wobbled, tears spilling down her cheeks. He started to tell her never mind, that it probably wasn't the right time, but she tipped her head back on the rim of the tub with a ragged breath.

“We lived in a little cottage with yellow curtains. Plants covered pretty much every flat surface, except the kitchen table and the counter. She couldn't cook worth a damn, and I'm sure we would have survived on eating fruit and raw vegetables from the garden if not for the sweet Italian woman, Nonna Gianna, who lived next door.

“Mom grew produce for Nonna and for most of the neighborhood, which meant we always had people coming in and out, bringing things to barter with. I think Mom made potions for the community, but I don't know if we were ever part of a coven.

“She had red hair and brown eyes, and her laugh was amazing. I remember the way she used to chase me through the sprinklers in the garden. I think she homeschooled me, but I don't...”

Ivy trailed off, staring off at nothing, a frown pinching between her brows.

“What, honey?”

“I was going to say I don't remember her trying to teach me magic, but I do. I was young, three, maybe four. She took me to a nursery and showed me all the beautiful flowers and plants, then showed me rows and rows of seed packets.

“She let me pick out as many as I wanted, and I don't think I cared one way or the other about what the plants actually were, so much as I liked the pretty pictures. She bought me a huge set of starter trays and a bag of dirt.

“When we got home, we sat outside in the yard on a blue quilt and she helped me pour dirt in the tray, letting me stab a hole in the middle of each cup with my finger. I picked a packet of delphiniums. I remember because the picture of the flowers matched the blue of my mom's quilt.

“We watered them, and she told me inside every seed, a flower slept. To wake