Yuletide Enchantment Read Online Free

his eyes close as if he savored the feel of her fingers on him.
    He was incredibly soft, his pelt like silk, the color unlike anything she had seen before. In the daylight he had been white, but in the moonlight he glowed almost silver, an incandescent color that was beautiful and otherworldly. It was as if his pelt absorbed the moonbeams and turned them into glistening crystals.
    She studied the rack that Ewan had wanted as a trophy. It was wide and heavy. Awe-i nspiring. Capable of impaling her and shredding her to bits. She trembled at the thought of feeling the thrust of his antlers through her chest, and she shrieked when she felt the warm wetness on her hand. When she looked down, she half expected to see her own blood on her palm, but there was nothing there save the stag’s mouth gently nuzzling her hand. Then the flat of his head was in her palm, and he was brushing against her like a kitten. His eyes were closed, nostrils flared, taking in her scent as he pressed closer to her, encouraging her to touch him.
    “You are the most beautiful beast I have ever seen,” she whispered as she stroked one of the curling antlers. His hide flickered, shivering, and he lowered his head farther, encouraging another touch. “Such strength and power,” she murmured, “yet grace and gentleness, too.”
    His head lifted, and he looked down at her. Standing beside her, his chest broad and lean, he dwarfed her with his size. He was any hunter’s prize kill, yet the thought of this magnificent animal slaughtered and stuffed made her feel ill. This regal stag was made to run free.
    “He did hurt you,” she whispered as she saw the angry red mark on the animal’s side. She brushed her fingers over the wound, which looked superficial. While no doubt painful, it would not prove deadly. The stag sidestepped her touch, prancing just far enough away to evade her fingers, yet he kept close to her, circling her. She felt him at her side, her back. The ends of her hair tangled in his antlers, and she thought she heard him inhale deeply of the heather-scented soap she had used that morning.
    You are mine , she heard whispered on the winter wind that made its low howl through the leafless branches.
    Suddenly she felt warm, her legs weak, her belly fluttering with the sudden release of butterflies. It was a man’s voice. Dark. Sensual. Compelling.
    Stay with me .
    She trembled once more as the stag pressed closer, his muzzle now bent to her neck. Puffs of gray vapor rose between them and she closed her eyes, disconcerted by feelings that swam in her.
    Stay forever .
    Something touched her, a hand on her shoulder, the press of lips against the bounding pulse of her throat. She felt the harsh exhalation of a held breath, followed by the movement of her hair over her shoulder.
    The raven cawed loudly and swooped down between them, drawing the stag’s attention. Confused and frightened, Isobel bolted and ran over the uneven ground, falling to her knees over large, distended tree roots. Branches tore at her hair and the tartan scarf she had wrapped around her neck. Pulling the wool, she continued running, never once looking back until she broke free of the branches that seemed to have tried to keep her within the forest.
    When she at last turned back, she saw the white stag standing on the edge of the forest watching her, his great chest heaving. His black eyes compelling her back to him.
    She walked away, unable to stop looking back over her shoulder. The stag was still there, still watching her.
    Next time , she heard through the night sky. Next time you will not run from me.

    “The female is fearless, I’ll give her that. Braver than most males of her kind.”
    Daegan watched as the raven fell from the tree limb, landing before him as a man—a naked one.
    “If Cailleach catches you in that state, you’ll be banned.”
    Bran smiled, a twinkle in his distinctive mismatched eyes—one pewter, one gold. “The goddess is a prude,” he