Yuletide Enchantment Read Online Free Page B

mean.”
    Bran’s eyes flared wide. “That is what the humans call blackmail.”
    “I wish only to have her safe.”
    Bran flashed into his raven’s form, but the glare from his eyes told Daegan he was less than pleased to do his bidding.
    “And what am I to expect in return for seeing the mortal safe?” Bran asked.
    Daegan met his gaze. “I will convince Cailleach to banish Morgan. Morgan will not like the Wastelands. She’ll break the spell rather than be banished.” Daegan looked up at the raven circling him. “Is it a deal, then? My woman for your brother?”
    “This bargain will no doubt come back to haunt us both, but I have no choice but to accept. No one has more sway with Cailleach than you, and no one other than the supreme goddess can talk sense into that witch Morgan.”
    “We have a deal, then?”
    “We have.”
    As Bran flew off, leaving Annwyn, Daegan raised his hand, palm up, to the moonlight. A silver pin in the shape of a dirk glistened on the forest floor in front of him. The MacDonald clan pin. Isobel would be back for it. And he would be waiting.

Chapter Four
    Isobel sang the opening strains of the “Coventry Carol,” and Fiona joined in as they wound strands of ivy and cedar, mixed with pine boughs, to decorate the mantel of the fireplace.mixed
    “Are you sure you should be reaching like this?” Isobel asked, breaking off the carol as she saw Fiona stand on tiptoe to stuff a bunch of holly into the bough.
    “I’m with child, not an invalid.”
    “Still, Stuart would have my hide if anything happened to you, especially since it was my idea to decorate the parlor for tonight’s reading.”
    “As the eldest brother, Stuart is used to getting what he wants. You and your family might indulge him, but I do not.”
    And that’s why Isobel utterly adored her sister-i n-l aw.
    Fiona winked at her and passed her a ball of mistletoe. “Put this somewhere special.”
    “And where would that be?”
    “Where the man of your dreams can find it.”
    Isobel glowered. “How about the rubbish bin, then? I’m sure St. Clair would never dare look in the rubbish.”
    “You heard.” Fiona scrunched up her nose. “How long have you known?”
    “Ewan blurted out the news yesterday afternoon when we were gathering the pine and holly. I don’t think he meant to let the cat out of the bag, but he did, and I’ve been stewing about it half the night.” The other part of the night she’d spent having strange dreams of a violet-eyed, dark-haired stranger. She didn’t know what concerned her more, her marriage to the mysterious Earl of St. Clair or the feelings her dream man had stirred within her.
    She had tried hard not to think of that dream or the feelings of arousal it had given her. A woman of good breeding did not think of such things. Should not know of such things . Yet, the images had been there, haunting her all day. The silhouette of a man outlined in shadow and moonlight, standing at the foot of her bed. The way he stood watching her, the virility she felt coming off him in waves. She had not been scared to see him there. It was as if she had always been waiting for his midnight visit.
    “Who are you?” she had asked as he walked slowly around the bed.
    “Daegan, a prince of the woods. A lover come to you in a dream.”
    She had fallen back on her pillows, utterly entranced by the deep timbre of his voice.
    “Lover,” she had repeated, letting the word roll from her tongue.
    “Yes, lover.” His eyes, which were a strange violet hue, met hers, as his hand pulled the sheet back, revealing her body in the night rail that had ridden up high on her thighs. “Would you like that, Isobel? Me loving you?”
    She couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. He had seduced her with his voice. Bewitched her with his eyes, and forced her with little more than a fluttering sweep of his fingertips up her thigh.
    She didn’t freeze or fight when he leaned over her, pressing into her, on top of her.