Wish for the Moon

by Carole Mortimer

  She looked like someone who walked the streets for a living, and she felt just as soiled!

  ‘Darling, you—’

  ‘Don’t!’ She turned on Quinn furiously as he would have reached out to her, her movements frantic as she moved to the wardbrobe to take out a different dress, any one, as long as it covered her from neck to toe. She would never be able to look at herself again without remembering Quinn’s hands upon her!

  The black gown was perfect. She would wear black forever, to remind her of how she had betrayed Fergus!

  She picked up some sandals, holding them and the dress against her as she turned back to face Quinn. ‘I said you should go!’ She almost shouted in her agitation, her expression wild.

  He shook his head, his face haggard, pain darkening his eyes. ‘Not like this,’ he refused gruffly. ‘We have to talk. About what happened just now. About—’

  ‘What happened was the great Quinn Taylor almost made another conquest by his superb lovemaking,’ she scorned in self-disgust. ‘I would be a fool to try to deny it, so I’m not even going to bother. But you were the one to come to my room, Quinn,’ she bit out contemptuously. ‘And I don’t want you ever to do so again!’ She was breathing hard in her distress, remembering all too vividly a time when she had been only too eager to go to his room—before she realised another woman had got there before her! She had to go on remembering that, mustn’t ever let herself forget again how selfishly this man took what he wanted.

  ‘I came to talk, not to—’ he broke off raggedly, still looking pained. ‘I want you, there’s no denying that,’ he admitted heavily. ‘But I didn’t come in here with the intention of making love to you.’ He sighed. ‘There’s already—so much tension between us, I didn’t want to add to that.’

  ‘It isn’t tension between us, it’s dislike,’ she rasped harshly. ‘I thought I had made that obvious from the first.’

  ‘You did,’ he admitted heavily. ‘I just—’

  ‘Then why couldn’t you have just accepted that and left me alone?’ she bit out contemptuously.

  ‘Because that isn’t all there is between us,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s also awareness, passion. And—’

  ‘Awareness and passion,’ she scorned. ‘That may be all you ask from your bed-partners, Quinn, but I happen to be a little more selective. Usually.’ She looked at the rumpled bed with distaste. Her eyes were bleak as she lifted her head proudly to meet his gaze. ‘Now get out of my bedroom,’ she ordered coldly.

  He drew in a ragged breath. ‘We still have to talk.’

  ‘Mr Taylor,’ she snapped harshly. ‘After tomorrow, you will go out of my life, and I’ll never have to see you again. We have nothing we need to talk about before that time, I can assure you.’ She dismissed him haughtily, turning on her heel to enter the adjoining bathroom, knowing she was going to need to shower again, at least to try to wash off the feel of Quinn’s lips and hands on her body.

  ‘Lise…?’

  She froze with her hand on the bathroom door, her breath caught in a harsh rasp in her throat.

  ‘Lise,’ Quinn softly repeated behind her.

  Her back straightened, she forced herself to breathe again, turning the handle on the bathroom door with slow, deliberate movements, not acknowledging Quinn’s use of her childhood name as she entered the adjoining room and locked the door behind her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHE was every inch Elizabeth Farnham as she presided over the dinner table, completely the gracious hostess as she even managed to draw Bruce Simons into the conversation, the poor man still slightly uncomfortable as he sat at the candlelit table being waited on by an assortment of servants.

  Once again they were in the small family dining-room, the seating arrangement around the round table slightly off balance, with three men and only two women. But that lack of balance in their numbers had made it possible for her to seat herself between Bruce Simons and her grandfather, with Marni sitting on her grandfather’s right, and Quinn seated between his daughter and manager.

  After the deep shock he had given her in her bedroom by calling her Lise she hadn’t wanted to come down for this dinner at all, had trembled as she waited in her bathroom for Quinn to leave her room, half expecting him to begin banging on the door she leant back against at any moment. But he hadn’t done so, and seconds later she had heard the faint click of her bedroom door closing as he finally left, her tension leaving her as she sagged weakly against the door.

  Obviously he had remembered her as Fergus’s cousin, but when had he done so? That was what she wanted to know.

  But not then! She was already too vulnerable at that moment to cope with any more trauma, needed to arm herself with her Elizabeth Farnham façade before facing him again.

  And she had done so, not allowing herself to think as she showered and changed into the black dress and sandals, calmly standing before her mirror to retouch her make-up and brush her hair into its usual silvery-gold bell. The mirror reflected the image of a coolly composed Elizabeth Farnham, and it had been she who walked elegantly down the stairs to join the others for dinner.

  She had only faltered slightly once, and that had been when Marni expressed her disappointment at her not wearing the red dress. She had used the excuse about some of the stitching coming undone, knowing she would never wear the dress again, her gaze unwillingly drawn to Quinn’s shirt, knowing by the neat—unripped—appearance of the snowy white material that he had also needed to change before facing other people. The way she looked, and acted, now, she doubted anyone would believe she was the type of woman who would try to rip a man’s clothes off him! And she would have done so, earlier, if Quinn hadn’t anticipated her longing and bared his chest himself.

  She had studiously avoided looking at him after that, either directly or indirectly, and he seemed to have lapsed into the morose silence that indicated his nerves about the concert had finally caught up with him.

  Knowing he wasn’t about to make a scene in front of the others—he would have done so before now if he were going to—she had relaxed slightly as she set about making Bruce Simons feel welcome and at ease. He seemed a little embarrassed by her undivided attention, but had slowly relaxed and almost seemed to be enjoying himself now.

  Marni chatted brightly to her father, obviously not expecting any answers as she tried to encourage him to eat a little of the food that was placed so temptingly before him.

  And Elizabeth’s grandfather sat idly by and watched them all. She wasn’t fooled for a moment by his bland expression, she knew him well enough to know that he sensed there was more to Quinn’s silence and her diligence as a hostess than was obvious on the surface.

  She couldn’t help but feel an immense sense of relief when it was at last time for Quinn and Bruce to leave for the concert!

  Giles was calling for her later and the two of them were going out somewhere to dance, far away from the chaos and noise that surrounded the Hall. She certainly had no wish to listen to any Quinn Taylor music, and it would be impossible not to do that if she stayed at the house.

  ‘You aren’t coming to listen to the concert?’ Marni was scandalised, having talked Elizabeth’s grandfather into accompanying her.

  She shook her head thankfully, aware of Quinn’s dark gaze on her. ‘Giles—the man I’m dating at the moment,’ she explained, remembering the other girl had never met him, ‘doesn’t enjoy loud music’ She gave a falsely regretful smile.

  ‘What a pity.’ Quinn spoke to her for the first time since she had come down for dinner. ‘I was going to sing a song especially for you.’ His eyes were darkly compelling.

  ‘Really?’ Marni said, interested, her eyes glowing. ‘Which one?’

  Her father gave her a strained smile. ‘It doesn’t matter now,’ he dismissed softly. ‘Enjoy your evening, Miss Farnham,’ he added harshly, his gaze almost accusing.

  She swallowed hard. ‘I hope your evening is a success too,’ she returned stiltedly.

&n
bsp; ‘We had better be going, Quinn,’ Bruce prompted, waiting impatiently at the door.

  ‘Yes,’ he acknowledged, not giving Elizabeth another glance as he followed the other man outside, Marni hard on their heels.

  Elizabeth couldn’t meet her grandfather’s gaze as he stood in front of her, staring at the second button down on his shirt, finally having to raise her head and look him in the face as the silence between them became unbearable.

  He looked faintly reproving, and she was at once on the defensive. ‘I did warn you that Giles and I wouldn’t be attending tonight,’ she reminded him.

  He nodded slowly. ‘That’s your loss, of course,’ he drawled without rebuke. ‘What are you running away from, Elizabeth?’ he added softly.

  Her eyes widened before her expression became guarded. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she dismissed lightly, deliberately evasive.

  ‘You know,’ her grandfather gently touched her cheek. ‘It’s what’s making Quinn so damned miserable and you so bright and carefree you almost blinded me during dinner.’

  ‘I was merely being polite to Mr Simons—’

  ‘Darling, I may have had the pleasure of knowing you for only the last five years,’ her grandfather rebuked. ‘But during that time I’ve come to know you well enough to realise when you’re upset. Something upset you very badly tonight,’ he told her firmly. ‘Uh uh,’ he put silencing fingertips on her lips as she would have spoken. ‘It’s better not to say anything at all than to tell a lie,’ he said. ‘And you were just about to tell a whopper, my darling,’ he chided gently. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to press you for the truth, I just want you to know that nothing is ever so bad you can’t come to me and talk to me about it.’

  She was too ashamed to tell anyone, even her grandfather, of the love she felt for a man who had been responsible for causing her cousin to be so unhappy he hadn’t cared whether he lived or died!

  ‘Thank you,’ she accepted warmly, hugging him impulsively.

  ‘But not yet, hmm?’ He stroked her hair affectionately.

  Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked up at him. ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to talk about it,’ she said raggedly.

  ‘But it does concern Quinn?’

  ‘They’re waiting for you,’ she said brightly as the car horn sounded outside.

  ‘Elizabeth—’

  ‘Please, Grandfather,’ she almost begged him, her voice breaking emotionally. ‘Go and enjoy the concert, and don’t give me another thought,’ she said lightly.

  He bent to kiss her fleetingly on the forehead. ‘I could never do that, darling,’ he told her gently. ‘But I’ll wait for you to come to me,’ he promised.

  ‘And no more matchmaking between—Quinn and me?’ She stopped him at the door.

  He looked at her searching, and she knew he must be able to see the panic in her eyes. ‘No more matchmaking,’ he agreed slowly, his expression thoughtful as he left the house.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes as some of the strain of the last hour left her. She had known it was going to be difficult, but it had almost proved impossible when Quinn watched her so broodingly. But pride had dictated she appear for dinner, and it had been that same pride that had got her through the ordeal.

  ‘Can I get you anything, Miss Elizabeth?’ a concerned Petersham broke into her tortuous thoughts.

  She turned with as bright smile as she realised she still stood in the entrance hall. ‘No, thank you, Petersham,’ she said warmly. All the staff on the estate had been wonderful to her from the moment she walked into the house as Elizabeth Farnham, Petersham even relaxing some of his tight dignity as he explained to her she didn’t call him Mr Petersham. She had been brought up to believe it was polite to call all adults Mr or Mrs or Miss, and it had taken her a while to realise that Petersham found it hurtful if she called him by anything other than his surname. ‘Could you bring Mr Soper into the drawing-room when he arrives?’ she asked, going into the room to close the door behind her, needing complete privacy for a few minutes.

  She couldn’t help wondering what song Quinn had intended singing especially for her. which of his songs would have been most appropriate for her? ‘Lying Lips’, or ‘Honeyed Kisses’; both of them told the tale of a woman who lied to the man who wanted her! Not that she had ever lied to Quinn, but he must believe she had.

  God, she had nearly fainted when he called her Lise in that huskily pleading way! When had he realised who she was? From the beginning, yesterday, today; when? What real difference did it make when he had made the discovery? He knew now, and she wasn’t about to deny it, or the truth she knew about him.

  She had been standing at the window for some time, able to see the masses of people on the west lawn, when the music began to play, the crowd going wild as Quinn walked out on stage. As he began to sing ‘Yesterday’s Love’ she could imagine him as he drew the audience to him with the charisma and warmth he exuded whenever he was up on a stage, each song telling a story, and every person in the audience drawn into that story as he sang of love and heartbreak and deceit.

  ‘God, what a noise,’ Giles said disgustedly as he came into the room.

  Elizabeth instantly withdrew from the spell Quinn’s singing had been wrapping around her, turning to smile at Giles, sure he wouldn’t realise that the smile hadn’t quite reached her eyes.

  ‘Isn’t it,’ she agreed with a dismissive laugh, crossing the room to accept his light kiss of greeting. ‘Let’s go somewhere madly exciting and forget all about the Quinn Taylor concert,’ she encouraged brightly, her arm through the crook of his as they left the house.

  The club they went to was the most fashionable in London, full of the rich and famous as they all appeared determined to have a good time, Elizabeth and Giles drawn into the mad whirl when they joined a group of several of their friends. They had fun, they danced, they had a good time—and not once, as Elizabeth smiled and flirted and laughed, did she forget about Quinn Taylor.

  It was worse than it had been six years ago, now she had a woman’s memories of him to haunt her other than the calf-love of an adolescent. No matter how much she hated him she loved him too, and as soon as he kissed or touched her that was all that was important. She was disgusted with herself, hated her weakness, hated Quinn more for being unable to make her feel this way.

  It was after two in the morning when they finally left London, and she knew the concert would have been over hours ago. It would have been a success, of course; Quinn Taylor never gave less than his best in any performance.

  He hadn’t done any less when he made love to her earlier either. But then that was just another way of performing—with an audience of one! Maybe making love to her would have been a way of relieving some of his pre-concert tension!

  She tersely refused when Giles asked if she would go home with him; she had done enough pretending already tonight without adding that to her list of mistakes.

  ‘Not even for a little while?’ he asked, crestfallen at her refusal.

  She shook her head. ‘My grandfather is expecting me home tonight—no matter how late,’ she added ruefully, knowing it was going to be after three when she eventually got in.

  Giles looked disgruntled. ‘If we were—’

  ‘I really am rather tired,’ she excused herself hastily; the last thing she wanted tonight was a proposal from Giles! She liked him, she liked him a lot, but soon, very soon if he continued to act in this possessive way, she was going to have to tell him she wouldn’t be seeing him any more. She had been putting it off until after Quinn had left so that no mistake was made about her motives for not seeing Giles any more.

  ‘All right.’ Giles accepted her refusal though he was disappointed. ‘Tomorrow?’

  She and her grandfather would have the house back to themselves then, and she was sure her grandfather would give her the privacy to talk to Giles alone. ‘I’ll call you,’ she nodded, regretful at having to hurt this man, but knowing, now more than ever, that
she could never feel anything but liking for him. How ironic: she liked Giles but could never love him, and she loved Quinn but could never like him! Once she had purged Quinn from her heart she hoped there would be a man she could both like and love.

  The Hall was very silent as she let herself into the house, the servants having gone to bed long ago, as had her grandfather and their guests. Why not, it was almost morning now!

  ‘Hello, Lise.’

  She turned sharply, facing Quinn as he stood in the library doorway, nursing a glass of what looked like whisky in his hand, looking tired and strained, casually dressed in an open-necked blue shirt and faded denims. Obviously not all of their guests had gone to bed after all.

  She forced herself to be calm, raising a haughty brow at him questioningly. ‘That’s the third time this evening you’ve called me by that name,’ she drawled as she walked across the hallway, looking at him pointedly as she waited for him to move aside and let her into the room. He had obviously been sitting in one of the wide-backed leather chairs that stood either side of the unlit fireplace, a book lying open on the small table beside it. She turned confidently to face him. ‘An old girlfriend?’ she drawled mockingly.

  He gave a deep sigh, closing the door softly behind him, staring down at the contents of the glass in his hand for several minutes. ‘She was a girl, yes,’ he spoke huskily, the two-hour concert obviously having put severe strain on his voice. ‘I had hoped she was a friend.’ He watched her closely. ‘But something went wrong between us.’

  ‘What a pity,’ she dismissed insincerely, having received a jolt as he fell in with her game. Why didn’t he just say that he knew exactly who she was and get it over with! Or maybe he still wasn’t sure? Although she found that hard to believe after her reaction earlier tonight when he called her Lise. ‘Did the concert go well?’ she asked politely.

  He looked irritated by the change of subject. ‘Bruce said it did,’ he dismissed tersely.