‘Yes,’ she rasped. ‘I believe they came into—some money, and decided to retire there.’
‘I see,’ he nodded slowly. ‘A pity, I had hoped to see them.’
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she suddenly said abruptly, needing to get away, or she would scream. ‘I have to go and check on something in the kitchen.’
She hurried away knowing her excuse was feeble; how could she have anything needing her attention in the kitchen when dinner had been over long ago! But she had needed to get away from Quinn Taylor, or she would have called him the murderer she believed him to be!
She almost ran out into the entrance-hall, knowing that several puzzled gazes had followed her, including that of her grandfather. But she had to get away, had to be alone, to think.
The morning-room offered her refuge, and she closed the door gratefully behind her, leaning back againt it weakly.
Poor Fergus, he had believed his dreams had more than come true six years ago when Quinn Taylor invited him to go back to Canada with him when he left, so that the two of them might collaborate on some more songs, seeming to share an accord that had made that first song they did together an overnight success. Fergus had been ecstatic at the idea of going to Canada for a few months, hardly able to believe the break he had had.
And once again Terri had accompanied him, with the idea of possibly obtaining some modelling work there, she said. Lise had known the real reason the other girl wanted to go, knew it was so that she and Quinn Taylor could continue their affair with Fergus’s presence as their shield. After all, Quinn Taylor was still married, and he didn’t want his lily-white reputation tarnished.
And so Fergus and Terri had gone to Canada with the rest of Quinn’s entourage. And six months later Fergus had been flown home to them in a coffin.
His letters had been full of enthusiasm for Canada and Quinn’s home in the Rocky Mountains, their song-writing going well too. And then his letters started to arrive less frequently, and when he did write they would be hurriedly scribbled notes that didn’t really tell them anything, except that he wasn’t the same happy Fergus.
And then had come the telephone call in the night from Quinn Taylor as he told her aunt and uncle that Fergus had been killed in a climbing accident. A climbing accident! My God, what did Fergus know about climbing? Absolutely nothing! And if he had gone climbing it had to have been for a reason, something that had made him so unhappy he had needed to get away completely on his own. A reason like finding out he had been played for a fool, that Terri and the man he liked so much were merely using him to cover up their affair…
Terri had certainly only returned for the funeral before flying back to Canada, to complete ‘work commitments’, she said!
Aunt Madge and Uncle Hector had been stunned by their only child’s death, even Aunt Madge’s sharp tongue blunted as she withdrew into herself in her grief. Lise hadn’t been able to stop crying, spending hour after hour in the music-room where she and Fergus had had such fun together, reliving all the good memories she had of the wonderful childhood they had shared, anger possessing her as those memories brought her back to that night six months before when she had realised what was going on between Terri and Quinn Taylor.
And then had come the self-condemnation. If she had told Fergus what was going on he wouldn’t have gone to Canada in the first place, would still be at home with them all, still calling her Squirt in that affectionate way.
But instead he was dead, his body smashed and torn as he fell down the side of a mountain.
He had been flown home to them a week later, and to her horror Quinn Taylor had come back with him. Lise had taken one look at him and fled, staying away from him completely whenever he came to the house over the next few days as he helped her Uncle Hector with the funeral arrangements.
She had seen Quinn Taylor only once more after that, across the width of Fergus’s grave, and she had hated him more than she had ever hated anything in her life. He had seemed to flinch from her vehement gaze, gathering himself to take a step towards her, and then his attention had been drawn to Terri as she sobbed at his side.
By the time he looked up again Lise had gone, running away from the churchyard, and the man whose presence she despised, as fast as she could go.
Life on the farm had never been the same after that, as if Fergus’s needless death had taken away their reason for going on. Lise’s work at college suffered badly, and Uncle Hector no longer seemed to have any interest in the work on the farm. What would have happened to them all she had no idea, because suddenly she was Elizabeth Farnham, heir to the Farnham estate, and her aunt and uncle received money from an unexpected quarter.
They were her aunt and uncle, the only parents she had ever known, had cared for her and loved her all her life, and with her sudden change of circumstances she had looked forward to making their life an easier one. But it hadn’t been necessary; the songs Fergus and Quinn Taylor had worked on together were released on an album that instantly leapt to the top of the charts when it was released, the royalties that should have gone to Fergus now paid to her aunt and uncle through his lawyer.
They hadn’t known whether to accept it or not, didn’t really feel that it was their money. But Lise had encouraged them to take it, to use it to buy the villa in Portugal they had always dreamt of having but never really thought to own. Reluctantly they had agreed, giving up their tenancy on the farm, somehow managing to leave all the unhappy memories behind them too. The letters she received from them were full of the new life they had acquired only because of their son’s death. She had told them not to think of it in that way, knowing Fergus wouldn’t have wanted them to feel that way about it.
Secretly she had always thought of it as Quinn Taylor’s blood money!
If Fergus had never met Quinn Taylor he would still be alive today, she was sure of it. But instead he had been dead for over five years, only the happy memories left to the people that had loved him. And Quinn Taylor was here, in her home, daring to call her aunt and uncle his friends!
He hadn’t been a friend to any of them, and she wasn’t going to allow him close to her now—although she could tell that was what he wanted. No doubt he found it irksome that he hadn’t been able to crook his finger and bring her running. Nothing he did would ever induce her even to like him!
It wasn’t so surprising that he hadn’t recognised her as Lise Morrison; the last five years had seen a lot of changes in her. The silver-blonde hair that had reached almost to the waist was styled in a straight bell to her shoulders, framing a face that no longer showed any signs of plumpness, revealing that she had high cheekbones within a heart-shaped face. Five years ago she hadn’t even realised she had any bone-structure in her face! But the biggest difference of all was perhaps to her figure.
She was slender enough now to be a model herself. And with her new slenderness she seemed taller too, her legs long and silky, and not in the least chunky as they used to be.
No, Elizabeth Farnham bore little resemblance to Lise Morrison, but both of them utterly despised Quinn Taylor!
‘Darling, what on earth are you doing in here?’ Giles demanded in a puzzled voice.
She turned from where she stood staring out of the window in the darkened room, her emotions firmly under control as she gave Giles a warm smile. ‘I didn’t think you would miss me,’ she teased, crossing the room to look up at him mockingly.
His cheeks flushed a little. ‘I was only being polite to Miss Barton, if that’s what you mean—’
She gave a teasing laugh. ‘I know you were.’ She put her hand in the crook of his arm, leading him firmly out of the room, too emotionally fraught to be alone with him where he might ask for more than conversation.
He sighed. ‘Your grandfather wondered where you had got to,’ he grimaced. ‘He sent me to find you.’
She patted his arm understandingly, knowing how much of a bully her grandfather could be to people he knew were afraid to stand up to him. An
d Giles didn’t realise that by meekly obeying her grandfather he was doing exactly what he didn’t want to do: earning his contempt! She had tactfully tried to explain to him what her grandfather was doing but he couldn’t see the logic behind her grandfather behaving in the way she described. Logic had nothing to do with the fact that her grandfather was a wicked old devil who liked to have his own way! If they didn’t love each other so much they would argue endlessly.
As it was poor Giles was stuck in the middle of them, and it was becoming increasingly obvious he wasn’t strong enough to withstand the pressure her grandfather would put on him if he so chose.
Her grandfather seemed to think Quinn Taylor was man enough; it was perhaps unfortunate that he had chosen the single man in the world she could never feel attracted to!
‘And you’ve found me,’ she told Giled encouragingly. ‘Let’s rejoin the party!’
She gave her grandfather a pert smile as he glowered across the room at her, launching herself into a mad whirl of talking to each and every one of their guests before it was time for them to leave; and Quinn was right about Maria Barton, she did like to hear how wonderful she was!
She carefully avoided any group of people Quinn himself might be talking to, deciding she had talked to him enough—relived enough harsh memories—for one night.
‘Very well done,’ her grandfather drawled at her side. ‘It’s almost not noticeable.’
She looked up at him blankly. ‘What isn’t?’
He shrugged, his eyes shrewdly assessing. ‘Your avoidance of Quinn.’
‘He’s our guest of honour,’ she dismissed without so much as a visible flinch at her grandfather’s continued astuteness where her attitude to Quinn was concerned. ‘I’ve monopolised his attention enough for one evening.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Where did you disappear to earlier?’
‘Really, Grandfather,’ she chided mockingly. ‘I surely don’t have to account to you every time I leave to go to the bathroom!’
‘Giles said he found you in the morning-room,’ he challenged triumphantly. ‘Just standing there in the dark.’
It was difficult to contain her irritation this time. ‘I have a headache,’ she snapped—knowing it was the truth. ‘The darkness helped,’ she returned the challenge.
‘Then why didn’t you just say so,’ he said impatiently.
She sighed. ‘Because I know how you worry.’
‘I flap around you like an old mother hen with her chick,’ he acknowledged ruefully. ‘But you’re all I’ve got, darling.’
‘I know.’ She squeezed his arm in complete understanding. ‘Now let’s go and say goodbye to our guests like dutiful hosts,’ she encouraged.
He accepted her explanation, and she did in fact have a headache now. And it wasn’t helped by the fact that she knew Quinn Taylor just stood looking at her as she made laughing comments to the guests as they left.
Did he see something of Lise Morrison in her after all, had he finally realised who she was? He didn’t look like a man who had made a great discovery, just a man watching something that he badly wanted. And that he was determined to have!
She knew that look, had seen that same expression on her grandfather’s face when he was about to argue for something he wanted. As he had argued about letting the Quinn Taylor concert take place here! She had put forward every reason she could as to why he shouldn’t allow it to be given here, and for each of her arguments he had had an answer. But there was one argument Quinn Taylor could have no answer for concerning being attracted to her; he would never be able to overcome the obstacle of her hate and resentment!
‘Elizabeth,’ he stood in front of her now, taking her hand in his, his gaze richly appreciative as it rested on her. ‘I can call you Elizabeth, I hope?’ He arched mocking brows.
He was as aware of her listening grandfather at her side as she was, both of them knowing she would appear churlish and rude if she refused him the intimacy.
‘Of course,’ she bit out coldly, deliberately not calling him anything.
He gave a satisfied nod of his head before turning to her grandfather. ‘You’re sure about tomorrow?’ he prompted huskily.
‘Of course, dear boy,’ her grandfather assured him effusively. ‘We’ll expect you around twelve.’
God, he had invited Quinn to lunch again! When she wished never to see this man again, three days in a row was a bit much. And she wasn’t about to be manipulated by her grandfather into spending time with Quinn when she would rather not any longer, whether her refusal to do so made grandfather angry or not.
‘I’m afraid you two gentlemen will have to excuse me from lunching with you tomorrow.’ She gave them a bright meaningless smile that she knew hadn’t fooled either of them for a moment. ‘I promised Giles I’d spend the day with him helping out at the stables.’
‘Mucking out?’ Quinn Taylor mocked in a deceptively innocent voice.
‘Certainly not,’ a flushed Giles replied indignantly, giving her a puzzled look as he tried to remember when she had made him any such promise about tomorrow, both of them knowing that she and horses just didn’t get on.
‘Then perhaps she intends helping out with the breeding side of things,’ Quinn Taylor drawled. ‘Keeping the records straight, I meant, of course,’ he added derisively as Elizabeth and Giles gasped simultaneously.
Elizabeth’s mouth firmed as she saw her grandfather was enjoying the exchange immensely. ‘I’m sure you couldn’t have meant it in the insultingly familiar way you sounded, Mr Taylor,’ she gave him a sweetly insincere smile.
‘Did I sound familiar?’ He raised innocent brows. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be. I was just surprised at your arrangements for tomorrow when your grandfather told me the last time you and a horse actually met you ended up on your—’
‘How positively amusing of my grandfather to entertain you with that story.’ She shot the old devil a fierce glare as she spoke in her most haughtily condescending voice, mentally thanking the tutor who had assured her that tone would one day come in useful.
Trying to teach her to ride a horse had been the one thing she had persuaded her grandfather to give up on five years ago, her one attempt at staying on the back of one resulting in her landing rather painfully on a spot that made it difficult for her to sit down on anything for a week.
And how her grandfather had laughed when she told him Giles trained and bred horses for a living. But she had soon silenced him when she told him she only had to listen to Giles talking about his work, not actually participate in it.
But she should have known, considering the dismaying turn his plans concerning her and Quinn seemed to have taken since actually meeting the man, that he would take great pleasure in undermining her relationship with Giles to Quinn Taylor.
Quinn’s lips twitched with suppressed laughter. ‘I’m sure you didn’t find it amusing at the time.’
‘Why not?’ she shrugged. ‘Everyone else but the horse laughed. And I’m not so sure he didn’t give a snicker too!’
Quinn Taylor grinned. ‘I understand he tried to throw you off in the lily-pond first?’
She gave a haughty inclination of her head, mentally promising herself she would throttle her grandfather once they were alone. ‘I suppose I should really have opted for the softer landing!’
‘I’ve told you before, darling,’ Giles reasoned indulgently. ‘With horses it’s just a question of showing them who’s in charge—’
‘Oh, Gulliver had no doubt about that—it was definitely him!’ She grimaced at the memory of being perched precariously on the chestnut’s back, the ground seeming very far away. When she had hit the ground with such a thump she had realised just how far. Since that time she had had no doubt that she preferred terra firma.
‘That’s because you—’
‘You’ll never make a horsewoman out of my granddaughter, Soper,’ her grandfather cut in dismissively. ‘So you might as well get used to that idea now.’
/> ‘I—’
‘If we aren’t leaving just yet I might as well have some more champagne,’ the caustic voice of Maria Barton cut in, the beautiful woman obviously not liking it at all that she seemed to have been forgotten by all of them, most of all by the man who had brought her here. The two of them had hardly spent any time together during the evening. She looked at them all challengingly, her dark eyes flashing.
‘We are leaving,’ Quinn bit out, his displeasure crackling in the air. ‘And I think you’ve had quite enough champagne,’ he added tautly.
The actress flashed him the smile that had made her so famous, her beauty earthy and provocative. ‘Can anyone ever have too much champagne?’ she drawled huskily, draping her arm through his as she gazed up at him invitingly.
Elizabeth watched the display with distaste; Quinn Taylor seemed to be able to attract women like bees around honey—all women.
Except her, she dismissed. Only two more days until his concert was over and he returned to Canada; it shouldn’t be too difficult to avoid him for that short time!
As Quinn and Maria were the last two guests to leave, besides Giles, they walked them out to the car, Elizabeth leaning into Giles as his arm encircled her waist as they watched the car depart. She moved away as soon as the car lights disappeared at the end of the driveway, giving Giles a bright smile as he looked hurt by her withdrawal.
‘Give it up, darling,’ her grandfather murmured softly as they strolled back into the house. ‘The man has his sights set on you,’ he enlarged as she gave him a questioning frown. ‘And he seems a pretty determined sort of chap to me.’ He smiled his enjoyment of the situation.
Her eyes flashed, and she shot a pointed look in Giles’s direction before muttering back, ‘Regaling him with charming little anecdotes about my youth isn’t endearing him to me in the slightest,’ she snapped.
He didn’t look at all perturbed by her impatient anger. ‘Well, I think I’ll get off to bed now,’ he announced so that Giles could hear too. ‘Don’t be long, Elizabeth,’ he added mockingly. ‘Soper,’ he nodded abruptly to the other man.
Wish for the Moon Page 5