Read Online By Winter's Light: A Cynster Novel (Cynster Special Book 2) by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online

holly gripped like a staff in her hands, a blush had taken up permanent residence in her cheeks, and a wholly unexpected sense of triumph and exhilaration coursed through her veins.
    Smiling, unable to stop herself, she stepped forward so that Daniel could follow, untangling the last of the incommoding branches from the thick weave of his overcoat. At last, he, too, stepped free—and crowing with success, the girls could release the branches they’d been holding back.
    That done, the girls literally danced, their spirits high and effervescently infectious.
    Claire steeled herself and met Daniel’s eyes.
    His gaze was warm, reassuring, and conspiratorial. “It looks like we’ve made their day.”
    Looking at the girls, she laughed. “Indeed.” She glanced at the branch, then called, “Juliet. Annabelle. Come bear away this bough we’ve wrested from the holly thicket.”
    “Yes!” All four girls raced up. The branch was long enough for all four to spread themselves along it and carry it off.
    Releasing it, Claire felt a sharp sting on the inside of her wrist and sucked in a breath.
    “What is it?”
    She glanced up and found Daniel at her shoulder, frowning down at her.
    He met her gaze, concern in his eyes. “Are you hurt?”
    She blinked, then shook her head. She glanced at the girls, but they were already on their way back to the sled, triumphantly bearing away their prize. Raising her left hand, Claire peeled back the edge of her glove. “A thorn.” One long sliver had angled beneath the fine skin on her wrist and broken off. She tried to pull it free, but the instant she released the edge of her glove, it flipped down and covered the spot.
    “Here—let me.” Daniel was already tugging off his gloves.
    Before she could stop him—before she could think—he took her gloved hand, almost reverently cradling it in one large palm, the back of her hand resting securely within his larger one.
    She was wearing gloves, but they were fine leather gloves and didn’t mute the warmth of his palm.
    “Hold back the flap.”
    She obeyed, and he bent his head. Slowly, he closed his neatly trimmed nails on the protruding sliver. He had the hands of a pianist, his touch strong and firm. She watched his fingers move, felt the caress of his fingertips on the sensitive skin of her inner wrist—and the touch seared her to her bones.
    She sucked in a breath, held it—and prayed he thought the reaction was on account of the hurt. A hurt she couldn’t even feel—her senses were distracted, awash with him.
    Then she felt the slide of the thorn, and the sliver left her flesh.
    She exhaled quietly and waited. She couldn’t dash away, couldn’t run away—and to her surprise, she didn’t want to.
    He’d been inspecting the damage; she felt his fingers soothe the skin—a caress that tightened her nerves again and sent sensation streaking through her. Then he released her hand and straightened.
    He looked into her eyes, and she met his gaze.
    The moment—filled with a nascent emotion she couldn’t name—hovered between them.
    Impulses, urges, flashed through her mind, but the girls were just down the slope, in sight, and…
    She dragged in a breath, smiled and inclined her head, and managed a creditable, “Thank you.”
    Head tilting, he held her gaze, then his lips eased into a wholly masculine smile. “It was my pleasure.”
    Keeping her own smile within bounds required effort; looking away, she waved toward the sled and started in that direction. “I believe we’ve done our share—our helpers can fetch the rest of the holly.”
    Bending to retrieve the hatchet and two saws the girls had left behind, Daniel glanced at the piles of smaller branches. “As you say.” As it appeared that persuading Claire to accept him was going to be a case of one step at a time, he was already planning his next advance.
    Straightening, he set off after her, lengthening his stride to catch up with her. They were halfway back to the