Wish for the Moon

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Am I glad to see you,’ the younger girl said ruefully. ‘Dad’s been impossible to live with since we left England—and you,’ she added pointedly.

  She swallowed hard. ‘Er—where is your father?’

  ‘In the studio,’ Marni grimaced, taking hold of her arm to drag her towards the house. ‘Boy, is he going to be pleased to know you’re here!’

  Elizabeth came to halt just inside the door. ‘He doesn’t know I’m here yet?’ she said nervously.

  Marni shook her head impishly. She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and was very tanned from the hours she obviously spent outside. ‘I thought about rushing in and telling him when Mike radioed that you were just passing through the main gate, but then I figured it would probably be more of a surprise if you were to just walk in on him yourself,’ she announced triumphantly.

  Surprise might not be the right description of Quinn’s reaction to seeing her again, and Elizabeth couldn’t help wishing that Marni had followed through on her first thought! Oh well, she had come this far, another few yards wasn’t going to make that much difference.

  ‘Where is this studio?’ she prompted in a strained voice.

  ‘At the back of the house, Dad had it built a couple of years ago,’ Marni supplied conversationally as she led the way through the charmingly comfortable house, paintings of Indians hanging on the walls, the furniture itself of a style that could only be called rustic. But anything else would have looked ridiculous in this beautiful setting, rugged mountains visible as far as the eye could see. ‘Like it?’ Marni asked as she saw her admiring glances as they passed through each room.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ she answered unhesitatingly.

  ‘Hmm,’ Marni agreed without conceit, ‘Of course it isn’t the original house we had here,’ she added with a grimace. ‘Mommy claimed that in the divorce and then sold it to some reclusive author. But this house is nicer than that one anyway,’ she brightened, dismissing the subject of her mother from her mind, her eyes sparkling deeply blue. ‘Dad designed this himself, and the studio.’

  They had finally reached the end of the house, a long corridor leading to another section that would have been completely separate from the main house if it weren’t for that.

  ‘It can get pretty cold in the winter.’ Marni explained the corridor, sobering suddenly. ‘About Dad,’ she began hesitantly. ‘He’s going to be thrilled to see you and everything, but—well, he’s been so—unlike himself, since we got back,’ she grimaced expressively. ‘His music is sad, like it was when he and Mommy first parted,’ she frowned.

  Because she had hurt him too, perhaps even more than Maggie Taylor had.

  ‘But you’re here to change all that—aren’t you?’ Marni asked hopefully.

  She smiled at the younger girl. ‘I’m going to try,’ she said shakily. ‘With your permission, I hope?’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ the young girl grinned. ‘It would be great to have a neat Mom like you!’

  Elizabeth hugged the younger girl gratefully. ‘Wish me luck.’ She straightened, her shoulders tense as she faced the door of the studio.

  ‘Believe me, I do,’ Marni said fervently. ‘But I don’t think you’ll need it,’ she added softly just as Elizabeth’s hand touched the studio door.

  She turned to give her a rueful smile, swallowing nervously as she turned the handle of the door, going quietly into the room. Not that she thought Quinn would have heard or seen her entrance; it had become obvious as she opened the door that he was in the middle of singing one of those sad songs Marni had talked about, his back towards the door as he accompanied himself on the piano.

  His voice was as rich and clear as it had always been; it was the words he was singing that were so disturbing. It wasn’t like one of his usual songs, consisting of a jumbled series of lines that made her wonder if he were quite sober.

  Suddenly his fingers came crashing down on the keys, leaning forward to rest his head on top of the piano.

  Elizabeth forgot about the song and the disturbing message it seemed to give, running to his side as she sensed his despair. ‘Quinn, I—’

  He whirled round on the piano stool just as her hand reached out to him tentatively, and she was able to see how the last weeks had affected him, his eyes dark with unhappiness, his cheeks slightly hollow where he didn’t seem to have bothered too much with food, lines of bitterness beside his mouth.

  He stood up slowly, staring at her as if he weren’t quite sure she were real—but didn’t want to wake up if she weren’t!

  ‘It’s really me, Quinn,’ she told him gruffly. ‘I—I grew up.’

  He breathed raggedly. ‘And?’

  She swallowed hard. ‘And I learnt how to trust,’ she said shakily.

  Still he held himself back. ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Sure enough to know that whatever happened six years ago, and then here later on, you didn’t betray Fergus’s friendship for you. I love you, Quinn,’ she added without hesitation. ‘I’m a little late admitting that—but not too late, I hope.’ She looked up at him with widely uncertain eyes.

  His answer was to open his arms to her, gathering her close against him as she went into them eagerly, his heart beating an erratic tattoo as Elizabeth rested her head against his chest.

  ‘I thought you would never come,’ he admitted raggedly into her hair. ‘Each day has seemed like a year,’ he added harshly. ‘And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay away from you!’

  She looked up at him frowningly, at his dear, beloved face, smoothing away the frown from between his eyes. ‘You would have come to me if I hadn’t come to you?’ She shook her head in slow disbelief.

  He gave a rueful smile, cupping either side of her face with his beautiful hands. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to stay away. I’ve hungered for this.’ He kissed her fiercely. ‘And this,’ the second kiss had gentled a little. ‘And this!’ he groaned as their lips met in drugging hunger.

  Every ounce of love she possessed for this man went into that kiss, the loneliness of every second they had been apart, both of them breathing raggedly as they finally pulled slightly apart to gaze into each other’s eyes, their feelings for each other so easily read there.

  ‘I was wrong,’ he said shakily. ‘The hunger and need didn’t go away,’ he admitted shakily.

  ‘For me neither.’ She trembled in his arms.

  ‘I wanted you all those years ago too, you know,’ he told her gruffly. ‘But you were young, too young, and so I left without ever telling you that you had helped heal me after the pain of my marriage breakup. You were so open and honest about your feelings,’ he explained at her questioning look. ‘You made me feel whole again. But you were too young for me, and in a way I was relieved when I got the telephone call that brought me back here. Six months later you looked at me with such hate that I knew that emotion was real too,’ he sighed heavily.

  ‘Because I held you responsible for Fergus’s death,’ she groaned. ‘Believed you had had an affair with Terri.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ he shook his head. ‘Not ever. Although it was what she wanted. She did come to my room that night, had made it obvious in London before we came to your aunt’s and uncle’s house that she wanted me in her bed. I wasn’t interested. Oh, she was beautiful enough, but she was also Fergus’s girl, and he happened to love her, couldn’t seem to see her for what she really was. And I hadn’t touched a woman since my marriage had broken down,’ he added softly. ‘Or since. Except you.’

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. ‘But you were free,’ she shook her head. ‘What about all those women you’ve escorted in recent years?’ she frowned.

  ‘Sometimes it’s necessary for me to attend social functions, for one reason or another. A female companion on those occasions seems to be essential. But I never made love to any of them.’

  ‘Why not?’ She still looked dazed, never doubting him.

  ‘Because I didn’t love them,’ he shrugged. ‘I have to be in love with
the woman I make love to.’

  ‘But if you haven’t made love for—in all that time,’ she blushed. ‘How were you able to—how did you—’

  ‘Stop with you?’ he finished teasingly. ‘Believe me I suffered through hell for the rest of the night, and I wasn’t feeling too comfortable the next day either. But, hell, I’d been celibate for seven years, what did another few weeks matter?’ he asked.

  ‘You were sure I would come to you?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted with a sigh. ‘But as I told you, another few days and I wouldn’t have been able to stay away.’

  ‘I’m glad it happened this way,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t want there to be any more doubts between us, and if you had come to me you would never have been sure.’

  He shook his head. ‘Maggie shook my faith in human nature, not in the woman I love.’ He kissed her lingeringly. ‘I think I loved you a little as Lise Morrison, and I love Elizabeth Farnham with my whole heart. The two together are a combination that would always have been able to defeat me!’

  It was a long time before they could talk coherently again, Elizabeth curled up on Quinn’s lap as he sat in the armchair in front of the window. But they still had so much to say, and their loving had already waited this long.

  ‘The song you were singing when I came in,’ she murmured against his chest, her fingers entangled in the dark hair she had revealed by unbuttoning his shirt. ‘It sounded—disturbed.’ She frowned up at him. ‘Not at all like your usual music.’

  He drew in a ragged breath. ‘Because it wasn’t mine,’ he told her softly, smoothing her silky hair with loving fingers.

  Her frown deepened. ‘But I’m sure I’ve never heard it before…’

  He shook his head. ‘Because it was never released. And it never will be,’ he added harshly. ‘It was the song Fergus wrote before he—before he died.’

  She straightened, looking at him questioningly. The song had been strange, talking about flowers and demons, the moon and—and flying. Off the top of a mountain!

  ‘I should have seen what was coming,’ Quinn berated himself fiercely. ‘But at first I didn’t even realise what was happening, and by the time I did it was too late to stop him. Fergus didn’t want to stop,’ he said heavily, lost in the memories.

  ‘Fergus was high on drugs the night he died,’ she realised brokenly.

  ‘They both were, he and Terri.’ He shook his head, defeated. ‘At first I put his strange moods down to artistic temperament—God knows I have some moods myself! But with Fergus it went much deeper than that, and when I finally realised what was happening I tried to make him see what he was doing to himself, that if he got rid of the drugs he could continue to give pleasure to the world through his songs. For a while I think he did try to stop, but—’

  ‘Yes?’ Elizabeth prompted desperately.

  He sighed. ‘He had made too many contacts, too many people who wanted to keep him addicted. And Terri didn’t want to stop,’ he added grimly.

  ‘Couldn’t she see what it was doing to Fergus?’ Elizabeth said angrily.

  ‘Not until it was too late.’ He shook his head. ‘And by that time Fergus was dead, and she was so hooked on the damned stuff that it took months of therapy to straighten her out. Her career never did pick up again, though.’

  ‘She’s a receptionist in a hotel in London,’ Elizabeth supplied dully. ‘Did—did my aunt and uncle know—how Fergus died?’ Her eyes were pained.

  ‘Yes,’ he sighed. ‘I had to tell them. The authorities were none too happy about having someone jump off one of their mountains, so they weren’t broadcasting the fact that Fergus’s death was anything but an accident, but just in case any of the media picked up on the truth… I had to tell your aunt and uncle, Lise,’ he groaned. ‘But they decided—and it had to be their decision—that you had adored Fergus too much to know the truth.’

  ‘And instead I thought Fergus had found out about you and Terri and decided he didn’t want to live without her.’ She gave a pained frown. ‘I’m sorry I thought that, Quinn,’ and she hugged him tightly. ‘I know you loved Fergus too, that you did all you could to help him.’

  ‘It just wasn’t enough,’ he rasped.

  ‘Darling, you did what you could.’ She smoothed the pain from between his eyes.

  ‘It wasn’t enough,’ he repeated harshly. ‘And I was never going to let another friend of mine die like that because I wasn’t able to do anything to help them. Have you ever heard of FerMor Drug Rehabilitation Centres?’ he frowned.

  ‘No, I—Fergus Morrison?’ she realised dazedly.

  ‘Hm,’ Quinn nodded, his expression grim. ‘I’ve managed to help them open several throughout North America.’

  ‘By financing them with your concerts,’ she guessed with self-contempt. And she had thought there had to be some sort of tax evasion involved! ‘Marni told me that the money from those concerts goes to a “pet project” of yours,’ she explained at his questioning look.

  He gave a tight smile. ‘It isn’t much, but if I can help save one kid like Fergus then I’m satisfied.’

  Quinn Taylor was a very special man, a man who came along only once in a lifetime, a man she would love and cherish for all her life.

  ‘So what happens now?’ she asked huskily.

  He shook off his mood of despondency with an effort, his gaze warm as he smiled down at her. ‘Now I marry the young girl who grew up into a princess?’

  How apt, when she had thought of him as her Prince Charming from the moment they met!

  ‘Yes, please,’ she accepted eagerly.

  His smile widened, his relief at her answer obvious. ‘We’re going to have to do something about your name,’ he teased. ‘Lise Morrison and Elizabeth Farnham will both have to go, much as I love them both. In future—in the very near future,’ he amended arrogantly. ‘You’re going to become Lise Taylor.’

  She finally knew exactly who she was, who she wanted to be for the rest of her life: the woman Quinn Taylor loved!

  EPILOGUE

  LISE had no idea how Cinderella had fared with her Prince Charming after the wedding, but there could be no doubt that the last four years with her Prince Charming had been magical!

  They had waited only long enough for her grandfather to join them in Canada before being married, her grandfather staying on at the ranch to keep Marni company while Lise and Quinn went on their honeymoon. By the time they returned six weeks later she was already expecting their first child. Their second child had been born just a year after the first one, although they had waited another eighteen months before Lise discovered she was pregnant again.

  She swung lazily back and forth in the swing-seat on the patio beside the house, smiling drowsily to herself as she waited for Quinn to finish his afternoon session in the studio.

  ‘I think it’s time all pregnant parents took a nap.’

  She roused herself to look at her husband with a glowing smile. ‘I thought you wouldn’t be finished for hours yet.’ She stood up to move into his waiting arms.

  He grinned down at her. ‘I shouldn’t be,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘But the thought of the afternoon naps we’ve been taking while the girls have been away is very distracting!’

  ‘The girls’. Daughters. They had three daughters: Marni, Claire, and Jennifer. Claire and Jennifer were spending the weekend with their indulgent grandparents on their farm, both Gayle and Dave Taylor doting on all their granddaughters. Marni would have probably been with her golden-haired two and three-year-old sisters if she hadn’t been in England visiting with her ‘Grandfather Farnham’. Marni spent a lot of time at Farnham Hall with her new grandfather, and Lise knew that Quinn was hoping she hadn’t gone in search of that ‘rich man who could give her a home like the Hall’ now that she was nineteen. Lise happened to know, from a reliable source—Marni herself—that she had more than a passing interest in a fellow student at the college in Calgary that she attended. But she also like to tease Quinn, and Lise knew how
much he liked to be teased by all his daughters.

  ‘Grandfather has given strict instructions that this one is to be a boy,’ she warned Quinn as his hand rested possessively against his child.

  He shrugged. ‘If it isn’t we can always have another. And another. And another—’

  ‘Quinn Taylor!’ she cut in reprovingly.

  ‘Hm?’ He arched innocent brows, his eyes dancing with devilment.

  For a moment Lise was lost in the beauty of his complete happiness, with her and their children. She had wanted so much to make him happy after all the unhappiness he had known, and she had only to look at him to know that together they had made each other happy.

  ‘Lise?’ he prompted again.

  She gave him a glowing smile. ‘Just how many children do we intend having?’

  ‘Who’s counting?’ he asked, his head lowering to hers.

  Who was counting? They could have a dozen children for all she cared, she loved being pregnant with, and having, Quinn’s children. And the ease of her own pregnancies had told her that Maggie Taylor must have taken great care during her marriage to Quinn never to have his child. It made her all the more determined to surround him with a family that loved him.

  ‘Don’t worry, love,’ Quinn teased as he pulled her towards their bedroom. ‘You can’t get pregnant when you’re already pregnant! And you do need your nap,’ he reminded her with exaggerated concern.

  She laughed softly as they eagerly entered their bedroom. Perhaps it was as well she couldn’t get pregnant at the moment, because after the long leisurely afternoons they had been spending in bed together—when they definitely didn’t nap!—she had a feeling she soon would have been!

  ‘Do you hear me protesting?’ she said drily.

  ‘I never do, love.’ He softly closed the door behind them. ‘I never do…’

  And she never would, she gave thanks every day of her life that she had Quinn to love, and to love her. She would never forget how close she came to forcing him from her for ever.

  Her Prince Charming…

  * * * * *