Free By Winter's Light: A Cynster Novel (Cynster Special Book 2) by Stephanie Laurens Page B

to think of any words, Daniel had opened the door and checked outside, then he stepped back, ushered her through onto the porch—and there was no easy way to hang back as he followed and drew the door almost shut behind him.
    Facing him, she clung to the mask she’d assumed as soon as they’d reached the house and she’d realized that her easiness with him—her relaxing in and enjoying his company, appreciating the dry wit of the comments with which he’d enlivened the return journey to the house—was not in keeping with the distance she was determined to maintain between them.
    She could be an acquaintance and not much more, and she hadn’t been honest in adhering to that line.
    For his sake, she was determined to do better from now on. Searching his eyes, she tried to read his expression; it seemed sober and rather serious. Her chest tightened; she raised her chin fractionally. “What did you wish to speak about?” Best they get this dealt with now—best she nip any aspirations he might harbor in the bud before they developed any further.
    He held her gaze; he’d said he wanted to speak with her, yet he hesitated…then he cleared his throat and looked out at the landscape, brown blotches showing through the light dusting of snow. “I…”
    Then his jaw firmed, and he looked back and met her eyes. “I have recently had some good news. News I wanted to tell you about, in which I hope you might have some interest.” He drew breath, then went on, “As you’ve most likely noticed, Jason is nearly twelve, and will go off to Eton next year. He’s the last of my charges, and so I was facing the possibility of having to move on, to find another post and leave Alasdair Cynster’s household, but instead, Mr. Cynster has offered me the position of amanuensis, assisting him with his collection, his library, and his interests in those spheres.”
    He paused, then continued, his gaze still holding hers; she found it impossible to look away. “The position comes with an increased stipend, one sufficient to support a wife and family.”
    She couldn’t suppress her reaction—the instinctive stiffening—even though she retained the presence of mind not to act on the impulse to take a definite step back. The impulse to shake her head.
    This was precisely what she had feared, that he would read too much into her liking for his company, into the easy rapport that from the first they’d shared.
    Into the connection that had always seemed to be there between them—gentle, understated, nascent perhaps, yet a link of sorts nonetheless.
    That link made it impossible for her to pretend she didn’t comprehend his direction, that she didn’t understand the question in the depths of his eyes. That she didn’t hear the emotion underlying his words when, voice low, he said, “I wanted to ask if there was any hope. For me…for us?”
    Inwardly gathering herself, holding his gaze even though that cost her dearly—she owed him that much—she opened her mouth to say what she must…only to discover that the words she’d been so sure would be there, ready to trip off her tongue, had vanished. Gone.
    She stared, confounded, surprised, and suddenly lost. She knew she had to say no, that she had to let him down gently yet make it clear that such a hope on his part could never become a reality, not with her…
    Seeing her confusion, he hesitated, then said, “I’m not pushing for a firm answer—I just wanted to know if…the possibility was there.” When she still didn’t respond, his face tightened. “If you would consider—just consider—spending the rest of your life with me.”
    Her heart was suddenly in her throat, strangling her vocal cords. Again, she tried to speak. Again, the words wouldn’t come.
    Epiphany struck.
    And left her reeling.
    She couldn’t say the words, couldn’t give voice to them…because they weren’t the words she wanted to say.
    The realization rocked her. When had this happened? Surely