The Gift Read Online Free

and deposited it and his own on a passing waiter’s tray. ‘Let’s go that way.’ With his hand beneath her elbow, he began to guide hertowards a set of patio doors that led out to the Waverley’s gardens.
    Disorientated, and fighting both Jay and her shoes, Sandy stumbled, only to be caught around the waist and held upright, almost off her feet, as if she weighed nothing. A piercing sense of déjà vu swept through her, and she teetered dangerously. Not pausing to give her time to protest, Jay gathered her up in his arms and began to carry her towards the doors to the garden.
    ‘Get off! Let me down! It’s just my shoes!’ she hissed in his ear, but his grip only tightened and his smile became infuriatingly arch and he-man.
    ‘All the more reason for me to carry you. Don’t make a fuss, woman.’
    Sandy’s brain sent messages to her hands and arms to beat at Jay and to her body to wriggle in order to get loose. Her little evening bag swung on its chain from her shoulder as he walked and she felt like catching hold of it and using it to batter him around the head with. Yet somehow the nerve impulses got sidetracked, swept away by the raw power not only of him but of a deep persistent memory.
    Transported across time, she relaxed, became pliant and curled her arms around his neck. She was suddenly living in the world of fifteen years ago, being rescued and carried to safety by her perfect knight. A beautiful Prince Charming figure, barely out of his teens, a scruffy backpacker, large and wonderful in his strength and kindness, with the face of an angel and long dark hair that tumbled to his shoulders. She even seemed to smell again his distinctive odour of male sweat and some musky incense-like cologne.
    The expressions of astonishment and interest all around her seemed to come through a thick filter. The cocktailparty was a million miles away, apart from one grinning wag who stepped forward to open the door for them. All that really existed was the warm haven of protective arms, keeping her safe and comforting her after trauma.
    The crisp winter air of the Waverley’s formal gardens rudely awakened her though, reminding her that she was a grown woman. She hadn’t just been mugged, and this was most definitely not the romantic Bohemian prince of her dreams whose large hand was curved evocatively around her thigh. Instead, it was a rude and overconfident man who might well have an unhealthy fixation on her. And one who’d just seen fit to make a complete exhibition of her in front of many of Kissley’s worthies and quite a few of her friends and acquaintances!
    ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? I was going to get my wrap first,’ she lied. ‘It’s the middle of winter and I’m wearing a strappy dress!’
    Wriggling like fury achieved nothing, and she was about to escalate to thumping and punching when Jay stopped in front of a bench in a deep, hedged alcove, and set her gently down on it. Shrugging off his jacket, he swirled it around her shoulders, and then, sinking to his knees on the turf, he pulled off first one of her offending shoes, then the other.
    ‘Your feet were hurting and I carried you,’ he said, giving her a look as if she were an airhead. ‘God knows why you women wear these stupid things.’ He tossed the borrowed slingbacks away with obvious male disdain.
    ‘If you must know, they’re not mine and I was persuaded to wear them because they look good with this dress.’ It should have come out assertively, but the sweet relief of being out of the horrible shoes was warping her mind. Allshe could do was lean back on the bench, wiggling her liberated toes and trying to get her bearings.
    ‘Hobnail boots would look good with that dress as long as you’re wearing it.’
    Sandy’s eyes had closed in bliss because her toes were hurting less, but now they snapped open.
    Perfect knight-type compliments too?
    She opened her mouth, but couldn’t think of a single appropriately