Wish for the Moon

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Don’t you think it did?’ she cautioned, sitting down in the chair opposite the one he had occupied, dropping her clutch-bag down on to the small leather-topped table that stood beside it.

  Her grandfather didn’t have a study, claimed he couldn’t bear rooms that resembled offices, and so the library was the closest he came to having a room in the house he worked in. Its lived-in appearance was evidence that he spent a lot of time in here, and often during cold winter evenings Elizabeth would curl up in this very same chair beside a roaring fire and keep him company while he worked.

  Quinn shrugged in answer to her question. ‘To tell you the truth I didn’t particularly care about anything else after the way we parted earlier this evening,’ he rasped, his eyes bleak.

  Inwardly she stiffened, but outwardly she remained coolly composed. ‘I have no doubt I’ll see the concert when it appears on television,’ she shrugged, implying she would then judge for herself whether it had been good or not.

  Quinn watched her broodingly, making Elizabeth shift uncomfortably in spite of herself. ‘Where the hell have you been all evening?’ he suddenly rasped. ‘Or should I say night?’ he added harshly.

  Her eyes widened at the attack. ‘I don’t believe I have to tell you that, Mr Taylor—’

  ‘Will you drop this Mr Taylor garbage!’ he bit out tautly, putting his glass down to thrust his hands into his denims pockets, the whisky obviously not his first of the evening if his mood was anything to go by.

  ‘If you insist—Quinn,’ she amended carelessly. ‘I really shouldn’t worry about the concert, Quinn, I’m sure it was excellent. No doubt my grandfather will want to see it when it comes on television, so I—’

  ‘Will you just forget about the concert!’ he exploded fiercely. ‘I’m not interested in the damn thing now that it’s over. What I am interested in is what happened to that girl Lise I once knew?’ he probed almost gently, his gaze intent.

  She gave a casual shrug of her shoulders. ‘I would say it’s a certainty that she grew up.’

  His eyes narrowed, his mouth a taut line. ‘And became Elizabeth Farnham.’

  ‘Oh I’m sure it wasn’t quite as easy as that,’ she lightly dismissed. ‘But I doubt whether I’m the first illegitimate child the local “lord of the manor” has left on some poor unsophisticated girl who believed herself in love with him!’ she scorned.

  ‘Is that what happened?’ Quinn prompted softly.

  Her eyes flashed. ‘Exactly,’ she bit out. ‘He refused to marry her, of course,’ she said. ‘My mother died giving birth to me, and Gregory Farnham went merrily on with his life—although there were no more little bastards left littering up the countryside that we know of!’ she said with contempt.

  ‘But he must have finally acknowledged you if—’

  ‘In a letter to be read after he was dead,’ she revealed hardly. ‘He died five years ago,’ she dismissed abruptly.

  ‘Dear God,’ Quinn shook his head disbelievingly. ‘How could he have done that to you?’

  Her grandfather was the only one that had ever understood how betrayed she had felt by her father, everyone else, including her aunt and uncle, thought she should be thankful that she was the heiress, Elizabeth Farnham, no matter how many years it had taken for her to be acknowledged as such. She didn’t appreciate Quinn being able to understand how she felt too.

  ‘It isn’t important,’ she lied. ‘I am Elizabeth Farnham now, no matter how it happened.’

  ‘You said we had never met before,’ he reminded her tensely.

  ‘I said I’m sure I would remember if we had met before,’ she corrected, looking at him coldly. ‘I remember it very well. I just had no wish to pursue the acquaintance.’

  ‘And left me wondering where the hell I knew you from,’ he rasped harshly.

  ‘I don’t suppose it took up too much of your time,’ she drawled derisively. ‘When did you realise who I was, the night my grandfather persuaded me to play the piano for you all?’

  He shook his head. ‘I knew the moment I kissed Elizabeth Farnham for the first time.’

  She stiffened. ‘Don’t tell me you remember all the women you’ve kissed?’ she scorned harshly.

  He drew in a harsh breath. ‘There really haven’t been that many. Have you forgotten I was married for ten years?’

  ‘Did you?’ she mocked contemptuously.

  His eyes narrowed as he stared down at her tensely. ‘If you’re asking if I was ever unfaithful during my marriage the answer is no!’

  ‘Really?’ she returned disbelievingly. ‘But you remember kissing a seventeen-year-old girl in her uncle’s cowshed?’ she scoffed disgustedly.

  ‘I remember,’ he spoke slowly, softly. ‘Kissing her because she asked me to. And then I remember kissing her again because I hurt her by ending the first kiss when it became much more than a birthday gift for a girl almost young enough to be my own daughter!’ He looked bleak. ‘I’m not sure when—or if—the second kiss would have ended if Fergus and Terri hadn’t interrupted us,’ he admitted raggedly.

  ‘Oh come on, Quinn,’ Elizabeth dismissed scornfully. ‘I was an infatuated child, and you wanted a woman to warm your bed that night.’

  He became suddenly still, his eyes narrowed. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  She stood up. ‘I’m tired, Quinn,’ she bit out coldly. ‘I’d like to go to bed now.

  He grasped her arm as she would have walked past him. ‘You can’t make a statement like that and just walk out on me,’ he grated, his eyes fierce.

  She met his gaze unflinchingly. ‘Can’t I?’ she taunted. ‘This is my home, Mr Taylor,’ she reminded coldly. ‘I believe I can do what I like in it!’ She looked down pointedly at his hand still holding her arm as he restrained her from walking away.

  ‘Does that include insulting one of your grandfather’s guests—’

  ‘I’m not insulting you.’ She wrenched out of his grasp, uncaring of the bruises she had probably inflicted on her own flesh. ‘Believe me,’ she laughed without humour, ‘if I once began insulting you I wouldn’t know where to stop!’ She looked at him with glacial eyes, not wanting to begin hurling those accusations at him, knowing she wouldn’t know how to stop once she started, all her hatred and disgust bubbling to the surface to spill over in a vitriolic attack that might leave him in no doubt of her dislike of him but would also leave her shattered and broken. ‘I think it’s best if we end this conversation right here,’ she told him coldly, walking towards the door.

  ‘Lise, I want to know what you meant just now about a woman in my bed?’ he prompted harshly.

  She spun around. ‘Don’t call me that name,’ she demanded harshly. ‘Don’t ever call me that again!’

  ‘OK.’ He held up his hands defensively. ‘For the moment I’ll—’

  ‘I said don’t ever call me by that name!’ she repeated fiercely, her eyes shooting tiny gold flames amongst the green. ‘You don’t have the right!’

  He became suddenly still. ‘Why don’t I?’

  She faced him tensely across the room. ‘Don’t make me say it,’ she began to tremble.

  Quinn’s eyes narrowed. ‘Say what?’ he encouraged softly.

  She drew in a ragged breath, could feel her control slipping, knowing she couldn’t contain her heated dislike any longer, wanting to escape before it flamed out of control.

  Her eyes flared indignantly, furiously, her hands clenched at her sides. ‘You have no right to use that name because it was Fergus’s name for me.’ She spat the words at him. ‘And because we both know you’re the reason he died, you and Terri, with your affair that you thought no one knew about but which I witnessed, to my disgust, and which Fergus obviously found out about before he went climbing!’ She wrenched open the door, running from the room.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  QUINN caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs, clasping her arm to spin her back round to face him. ‘You can’t make an accusation like that and just
walk away from it!’ he rasped, his eyes dark with anger.

  She gave a choked sob of a laugh. ‘I wasn’t walking; I was running!’ She tried to shake off his hold on her arm, her breathing agitated as he refused to let her go. ‘Let me go, Quinn,’ she ordered shakily. ‘Before I say anything else to make our situation here impossible.’

  He let her go, but his gaze compelled her to stay where she was. ‘I don’t think it could be any more impossible,’ he muttered self-derisively. ‘You believe,’ he said slowly, ‘that I—metaphorically—pushed Fergus to his death five years ago? He prompted harshly, ‘At least, I hope that accusation was meant metaphorically.’ He looked at her with narrowed eyes.

  Her mouth twisted. ‘I don’t think you’re the type actually to push a man off a mountain, if that’s what you mean,’ she rasped. ‘But I know how much Fergus loved Terri. And I also know the two of you were having an affair,’ she added contemptuously.

  Quinn shook his head in puzzlement. ‘How do you know that?’

  Her eyes became glacial once again. ‘That night you stayed with us Terri was supposed to be sharing my room. Yes,’ she scorned as comprehension darkened his eyes. ‘On my way—on my way to the bathroom,’ she invented, determined not to admit to the depths of her own infatuation six years ago, the intensity of those feelings driving her to seek out Quinn in his bedroom, ‘I heard the two of you together in your bedroom.’ Her expression was full of disgust. ‘She didn’t return to my bedroom until early the next morning,’ Elizabeth added contemptuously. ‘I was pretty innocent at seventeen,’ she said self-derisively. ‘But even I could tell that Terri had the look of a woman who had been making love most of the night!’

  Quinn turned away, his shoulders hunched over as his hands were thrust into his trouser pockets. He drew in a ragged breath, his eyes dark when he turned to face her. ‘Aren’t you assuming a lot believing I was the one she had been making love with?’ he finally questioned, his eyes narrowed.

  ‘From what I overheard,’ said Elizabeth, ‘it was far from the first time it had happened! Besides, you looked pretty haggard yourself when you came down to breakfast the next morning.’ She could vividly recall how she had avoided looking at him after that first probing glance, the lines of tiredness about his eyes evidence of his own sleepless night.

  He sighed. ‘Maybe I did,’ he nodded. ‘But it had nothing to do with Terri. Obviously I can’t say for certain, but I would say it’s pretty obvious she spent the rest of the night in Fergus’s room—because she certainly didn’t spend it in mine!’ he concluded hardly.

  ‘No?’ Elizabeth said without conviction.

  ‘No,’ he scowled at her. ‘Lise—Elizabeth,’ he hastily amended as her eyes flashed fiercely once again. ‘I didn’t have an affair with Terri, not then, nor later in Canada. Maybe it’s asking a lot for you to believe that, but—’

  ‘It’s asking the impossible,’ she dismissed hardly. ‘I heard the two of you together that night,’ she reminded him with distaste. ‘I also read Fergus’s letters from Canada as he seemed to become more and more disillusioned with what was going on out there. He was obviously deeply unhappy before—before he died.’

  ‘And you believe that was because I was having an affair with his girlfriend,’ Quinn rasped.

  ‘Yes,’ she bit out abruptly.

  His breath raggedly left his body.’ ‘That’s why you looked at me with such hate across Fergus’s grave.’

  ‘Should I have looked at you with love?’ she scorned. ‘A man who saw something he wanted and took it, regardless of the fact that it was the girlfriend of a man who liked and respected you? I just thank God my aunt and uncle never knew what really happened, because if they had they would never have accepted the money your recording company paid them on Fergus’s behalf. And that was a small price for you to have to pay for ruining their son’s life so that he had no reason to go on living!’

  Quinn drew in a harshly controlling breath. ‘I think you were right, this conversation should have ended ten minutes ago,’ he rasped. ‘We can talk again when you’re—calmer.’

  ‘I’ll never be calm enough to listen as you try to excuse what you did to Fergus,’ she scorned. ‘Oh, I always knew Terri wasn’t good enough for him, that she just liked the idea of having a song-writer for a boyfriend, that it fitted in with that glamorous life she portrayed for herself. But Fergus believed you were his friend, and you betrayed him!’

  ‘I may have unwittingly—and unwillingly—contributed to Fergus’s death,’ he admitted harshly. ‘But I would like to explain that without heat or anger—’

  ‘Please don’t bother to try to explain how you could be so obsessed with a woman like Terri that friendship and trust were completely forgotten,’ she dismissed with contempt. ‘I’m not interested in hearing that sort of explanation.’ She turned away wearily. He had admitted it, had acknowledged that he had helped push Fergus—metaphorically—to his death! Somehow she had always hoped—especially after discovering that she still loved him!—that he could explain away his involvement with Terri, assure her that it had had nothing to do with Fergus’s death. There was no hope left after Quinn’s confession.

  ‘You will be interested, Lise,’ Quinn’s voice warned her as she went up the stairs. ‘We both know that there’s something between us far stronger than what you believe happened, that even though you think you hate me, you want me too.’

  She kept walking, her back rigid, knowing he watched her but refusing to look at him again.

  The tears held off until she reached the sanctuary of her bedroom, and then they cascaded down her cheeks, her body racked by heartbreaking sobs.

  She had said them, all the ugly accusations that she had lived with the last six years. And Quinn hadn’t been able to deny the ones that really mattered.

  * * *

  ‘—invited them to stay on for a while,’ her grandfather concluded, looking at her intently as it became obvious she hadn’t heard a word he had said. ‘Darling, what is wrong with you today?’ He frowned at her worriedly. ‘You were very late home last night; did something happen that I should know about?’

  They were seated at the breakfast table, both of them down early this morning. Elizabeth knew her grandfather always ate early, and as she hadn’t even attempted to go to bed herself she had decided to join him, ignoring the platters of food to sip at a cup of strong sweetened coffee.

  She smiled wanly at her grandfather’s method of asking if Giles had behaved himself the evening before. ‘Nothing at all,’ she dismissed. ‘I was late home because Giles and I met several friends at the club. Now what were you saying…?’ She made a concerted effort to concentrate on what he was saying.

  He nodded, although he still frowned at her concernedly. ‘Quinn doesn’t have any reason to rush back to Alberta, so I’ve invited him and Marni to stay on for a while now that the concert is over,’ he revealed briskly, sitting forward worriedly as she instantly paled. ‘Darling, are you sure you’re all right?’ he frowned.

  He had invited Quinn to stay on. But he couldn’t stay, wouldn’t want to stay, after their conversation last night!

  Some of the colour returned to her cheeks. ‘Fine,’ she dismissed brightly. ‘Late evenings don’t agree with me, I guess,’ she shrugged, attempting to smile. ‘So you’ve invited Mr Taylor to stay on,’ she repeated abruptly.

  ‘Yes,’ Her grandfather still watched her closely. ‘That isn’t going to be a problem for you, is it, darling?’

  No, because she was sure Quinn wouldn’t be staying on! ‘He’s your guest, Grandfather.’ She smiled.

  ‘Yes,’ he sighed. ‘But you haven’t seemed quite yourself since he arrived. Maybe inviting him to stay on wasn’t such a good idea,’ he accepted, ‘but he looked so tired this morning that I thought the rest might do him good. He—’

  ‘This morning?’ Elizabeth echoed sharply. ‘You made this invitation this morning?’

  He nodded. ‘Quinn was up at the crack of dawn,
taking me up on my offer of an early morning ride. He should be back any moment for his breakfast; he wasn’t hungry earlier.’

  She had imagined Quinn was still in bed, not off riding on the estate somewhere. She had found it impossible to sleep after leaving him last night, hadn’t even bothered to go to bed; from the earliness of the hour when he and her grandfather had spoken she could only presume he had spent a restless night too. Maybe a guilty conscience did that to you!

  She sipped her coffee. ‘Don’t be too disappointed if he turns down your invitation,’ she advised gently. ‘After all, he’s a busy man, and—’

  ‘But he’s already accepted,’ her grandfather cut in lightly. ‘Thanked me very much and said he would be delighted. Or something like that,’ he grimaced.

  Quinn couldn’t stay on here, couldn’t want to, not now. Then why had he accepted the invitation? What did he hope to prove? Didn’t he realise that she hated him, that it could only prove awkward for both of them if he chose to remain here?

  He had to know all those things, but perhaps he considered them all unimportant compared to the fact that they desired each other!

  Oh God, how was she to get through the rest of his visit? It had seemed bad enough when she only had until today to get through, but even so she hadn’t managed it without telling him exactly how contemptible she found him; how much longer did he intend staying on here?

  ‘Er—how long did you make this invitation for?’ she asked her grandfather casually.

  ‘I didn’t specify a time,’ he shrugged. ‘I suppose it will be until he has other commitments that take him away.’

  Considering the fact that Quinn had done less and less public performing in recent years, that could be a matter of weeks rather than days!

  ‘He said he’s in no hurry to get back.’ Her grandfather confirmed her suspicion. ‘To tell you the truth, I think he rather likes this part of England,’ he added smugly.

  Elizabeth bitterly wondered if he had bothered to visit the local churchyard during his stay here. She regularly placed flowers on Fergus’s grave there, knowing that it comforted her aunt and uncle to know that she did so. She doubted if Quinn had given the grave there another thought since the funeral five and a half years ago.