Page 29 of Christmas Spirit
“Sorry. Here, take this,” Georgie mumbled, fishing a tissue from his pocket. “It’s been used, but—”
“It’s fine. And thank you.”
“For—for a moment, I thought—”
Georgie met Roland’s eyes. Clear and bright, there was not the smallest hint of dazed fogginess. Greener than emeralds, they were stunning, beautiful and spellbinding.
Roland’s hand covered his, warm, firm and strong.
Georgie looked down, at the long and tapering fingers, at the fine scatter of hair across its back. His skin tingled, the way it had tingled when Roland had touched him, trailing those long fingers over his nervy skin, as all around them candlelight fluttered and swayed, the flames stretching then shrinking back, before lengthening once more.
It hadn’t happened, because it couldn’t have done.
Georgie eased his hand from under Roland’s and dragged his gaze away.
“I’m going to go back to the hotel to get help. I think you should be checked over at the hospital.”
“I don’t need the hospital. I’m a bit battered and bruised, but that’s all.”
“You blacked out, so you might have concussion. I’m going—”
Georgie gasped. In the rearview mirror, growing bigger by the second as it hurtled towards them, was a gleaming snowmobile, atop of which sat a man in a bright red jacket.
* * *
“Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear,” Nicholas said, as he helped Roland from the car. “The driveway is treacherous, so icy.”
“How did you…?” Georgie began, but it didn’t matter how Nicholas knew of the accident. What did matter was that he’d arrived when he was truly needed.
Nicholas settled Roland into the sledge attached to the back of the snowmobile, plumping up cushions and laying a tartan rug over his lap.
Georgie took Nicholas aside. “I think he may have concussion,” he said, lowering his voice. “I don’t think there are any bones broken, but he blacked out for a few seconds. He needs to be checked over, which means getting to the nearest hospital. The car took a hit, so we can’t use that.”
He looked over at the Range Rover, wedged up against a tree. A crack crisscrossed the windscreen, the front bumper had a deep dent, and one of the tyres was flat.
“Can you call an ambulance, please, or take us to the nearest A&E? Preferably in a car.”
Georgie looked at the sledge. He really didn’t fancy rocking up to hospital looking like he and Roland were on some kind of Winter Wonderland themed ride, complete with an old white-bearded guy dressed in a red and white anorak, a pair of black boots, and a more than casual resemblance to a certain person who was featuring on every Christmas card from Land’s End to John O’Groats.
“I don’t have concussion,” Roland called over.
Well, at least his hearing was all right.
“How do you know? You should be checked out.”
Roland huffed. “Although I appreciate the help, and the ride back the hotel, I’m perfectly able to walk in a straight line. I don’t have double vision, and I’ve not got ringing in my ears. I don’t even have the suggestion of a headache. I bashed my nose, that’s all, and the bleeding has stopped. It was the car that took the force of the impact.”
“But you passed out.”
Why was Roland being so damn stubborn?
“For a handful of seconds, that’s all.I. Am. All. Right.”
“Nicholas, will you please make arrangements for Mr. Fletcher Jones to be taken to hospital? The roads have been—”
“Cleared, sir?” Nicholas shook his head as an apologetic frown furrowed his brow. “I’m afraid we’re completely snowbound. Nothing’s getting through, and all the surrounding roads have been closed. That’s why I came for you when I found you’d gone. To warn you. I came using the quickest way I knew how.”
“But he should be checked out by a doctor. I don’t understand why neither of you see the importance of it,” Georgie said, throwing his hands in the air.
