Prescription—One Husband
Page 18
‘Jessie…’ Quinn’s voice was a warning.
Quinn was smiling at his cousin but his eyes were giving her an urgent message.
Jess laughed.
‘I know,’ she twinkled. ‘I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll just get back to the loves of my life then, shall I? Two wallabies, one parrot and one echidna.’
And she walked out, laughing.
Fern and Quinn were left facing each other.
There was a long silence. All of a sudden Fern felt absurdly shy.
And as if nightingales were starting to sing, somewhere in the region of her heart.
‘Can you forgive me, Fern?’ Quinn asked softly. He sat down on the bed and gathered her two hands to his chest. ‘If you knew how I wanted to tell you…But it was crazy. If I broke…If I broke and told you, then I couldn’t keep appearances up with Jess—and Jessie’s life was forfeit. And I’d persuaded her to go to the police in the first place.’
‘I…There’s nothing to forgive,’ Fern whispered.
The nightingales were singing louder and louder. The dizziness was there in force, washing over her in lovely, misty waves that were all about drowning.
Drowning in Quinn’s dark eyes.
‘Then you’ll marry me, my heart?’
‘I don’t…’ Fern shook her head. This was crazy.
‘Quinn, I can’t…’
‘Can’t marry me?’ Incredibly, his eyes were anxious.
‘Can’t decide.’ Fern dredged up dignity with a superhuman effort. ‘I’m not supposed to get married.’
‘Yes, you are. You were getting married the first time I saw you, if you remember. You were just getting married to the wrong man.’
‘But not…’
‘Not to the man you loved.’ Quinn took her in his arms with a tenderness that took her breath away. ‘No, my darling. Not to the man you loved. Or the man who loved you. The man who loves you is right here, Fern, my darling girl, my crazy, crazy doctor bride.
‘And I know I shouldn’t pressure you when you’re still suffering from concussion but if I don’t then I’m afraid I’ll go away and you’ll think up all those sensible reasons why you shouldn’t marry someone who loves you more than life itself. So…’
‘So?’ Fern whispered.
He put her away from him and held her at arm’s length.
‘So if you want to put your head on the pillows then you have to do what the doctor orders.’
Fern’s lips curved into the beginnings of a smile.
‘And the prescription?’
‘One husband,’ he said solemnly. ‘Slightly used. I’ve had a practice run, you might say, but then so have you. You were a practice bride. Now it’s your turn to be a real one…’
‘Oh, Quinn…’ She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
‘That’s not what you’re supposed to say,’ he told her severely.
‘What…what am I supposed to say?’
He smiled then, his lovely, laughing smile that was a caress all by itself.
‘Just say “I will”, my lovely Fern,’ he said gently. ‘Nothing else matters.’
Nothing else matters.
And suddenly it didn’t.
Fern looked up at the man she loved and she found the answer to all her questions in his eyes.
She was loved.
She was home.
‘I will,’ she whispered, but Quinn hardly heard.
Fern’s eyes had said it all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IT WAS four long weeks before the wedding could take place legally and then they were forced to wait another interminable two. Those six weeks were spent by Fern in Sydney, supervising her aunt’s convalescence.
Fern had promised to wed on the island but to wed without her aunt’s presence was unthinkable. Even Quinn wouldn’t think of it.
The wait did give Fern time to collect her thoughts.
Or almost.
Quinn telephoned twice a day and each time he rang Fern’s thoughts were scattered like dandelion seeds in a high wind.
Still—there was time for other things.
There was time for Bill Fennelly’s tuberculosis tests to come back positive—and for him to begin to respond to treatment. He was well enough to accept a wedding invitation.
There was time for Fern to see Sam and Lizzy and wish them well and for Sam to do the same for her. Sam and Lizzy were planning an island wedding of their own.
There was time to see Aunt Maud well on the mend and time besides…
Too much time.
Six interminable weeks…
On their wedding day the chapel was deserted.
The whole island was present to see Fern Rycroft married but bride and groom had chosen another venue. The vicar, bemused but acquiescent, carried his altar to Fern’s cove.
There was no satin.
Fern married in a white gown of fine cotton, simply cut, with a low neckline, bare sleeves and a soft, flowing skirt that fluttered lightly round her legs in the breeze.
She left her red-gold head bare and her feet were bare too.
She was an island bride.
‘A lovely bride,’ the islanders had said of that first bride, the Fern of several weeks ago.
Now there was hardly a dry eye on the beach but they weren’t saying ‘a lovely bride’.
‘Our lovely Fern,’ they whispered as they watched her make her vows. ‘Our Fern…’
‘Our Fern,’ her aunt and uncle murmured with love and pride, but Quinn had a different adjective for his lovely bride.
‘You may now kiss the bride,’ the vicar said at last, eyeing this handsome couple with placid ease. If ever a marriage would work, he thought contentedly, this one would.
Man and wife…
‘My Fern.’ Quinn’s words sounded out as a vow as he gathered his island bride close and Fern lifted her lips to receive his kiss.
To receive all his love with all her heart.
‘My Quinn.’
Their marriage vows were sealed for ever.
And were blessed…
The waves rolled in. They’d roll in for ever, Fern thought gladly. On us, on our children and on our children’s children.
And out to sea a pair of dolphins leapt high in the rolling smell of glistening ocean.
The world was theirs.
And who was to say their thoughts weren’t exactly the same?
Look next month for Jess’s own wonderful story in
PRESCRIPTION—ONE BRIDE
eISBN 978-14592-7751-9
PRESCRIPTION—ONE HUSBAND
First North American Publication 1996.
Copyright © 1996 by Marion Lennox.
All rights reserved. Except for use In any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter Invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, Is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters In this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any Individual known or unknown to the author, and all Incidents are pure Invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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