Wish For The Moon. Carole Mortimer

were thick, but she knew the man she loved was just through the thickness of that wall. What a surprise he was going to get when she went to him…!

      Just over half an hour later all that could be heard in the room was the steady tick-tock of Lise’s bedside clock. Her breathing sounded abnormally loud to her in the silence of the night, but only she seemed aware of it, Terri moving about the room putting on her robe.

      ‘Lise?’ she prompted softly, testingly.

      She didn’t move, although her heart seemed to be pounding very loudly too.

      ‘Lise?’ Terri called again, sighing her satisfaction as Lise remained turned away from her, seemingly asleep.

      She waited only seconds after the door closed behind the other girl before quickly getting out of bed herself, shivering slightly in her nude state; sleeping without clothes on was certainly going to take some getting used to! The coolness of these cottages wasn’t meant for sleeping nude. She gratefully pulled on her robe, belting it before going out into the hallway, moving stealthily to the door next to hers, coming to a freezing halt as she heard Quinn talking to someone inside his room, the door not quite closed properly.

      ‘—told you in London, this has to stop,’ Quinn was saying firmly.

      ‘Because of Fergus,’ Terri acknowledged softly. ‘But he doesn’t have to know, does he?’ she dismissed.

      Terri was in Quinn’s room. Lise couldn’t believe it. Terri had gone to Quinn, not to Fergus!

      She couldn’t move, could hardly breathe, shocked to the core of her being.

      Quinn sighed. ‘He’s a friend of mine—–’

      ‘I won’t tell him if you don’t,’ Terri taunted seductively.

      ‘He’s expecting you to go to him—–’

      ‘I’ll just tell him Lise made a little pest of herself by not falling asleep in time,’ Terri said callously. ‘She is a little pest, isn’t she, Quinn?’ she added derisively. ‘The poor little thing can hardly keep her hands off you!’

      ‘Terri—–’

      ‘Don’t try and tell me you found her adoration cute—or acceptable,’ Terri dismissed with a throaty laugh. ‘We both know your opinion of star-struck little kids like her. You like a woman in your arms and your bed. And we both know that I’m very much a woman, don’t we, Quinn?’ she prompted huskily.

      ‘Obviously you’re a woman. But—–’

      ‘Let me show you how much of a woman I am,’ Terri cut in seductively.

      The silence that followed her statement broke Lise out of her horrified trance as she realised exactly how Terri must be showing Quinn.

      She couldn’t get back to her bedroom fast enough, leaning weakly back against the door, her breathing ragged.

      Terri and Quinn. Quinn was making love to the other woman while his friend, and Terri’s lover, slept unsuspectingly across the hallway!

      She had believed Quinn was attracted to her because he let her kiss him, because he had shown her what a proper kiss between a man and a woman could be, and all the time he was sleeping with his friend’s girlfriend behind his back. Maybe Terri’s presence here as Fergus’s girlfriend had even been the reason he had been so agreeable to the suggestion that he stay here.

      As for Quinn finding her attractive, that was laughable. Maybe he and Terri would indeed laugh later when he told her how Lise had thrown herself at him in the music-room!

      She gave a sudden shiver, realising how cold she was standing here in just her robe, and, taking one of the cotton nightgowns that buttoned to the throat from her drawer, she pulled it on quickly, no longer eager to become a woman.

      Oh God, Quinn wasn’t a Prince Charming at all, he was the Prince who woke Sleeping Beauty with a single kiss, who opened her eyes to all that was ugly in the world.

      She might not want to be a woman any more, but she knew for certain that she would never again be that trustingly naïve child who believed in fairy-tales. In men like Quinn Taylor…

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘MISS ELIZABETH?’

      She looked up from the letter of acceptance she had been writing in answer to a dinner invitation for next week, nodding coolly to the maid. ‘Yes, Mary?’ she prompted distantly.

      ‘Cook just wanted to be sure that the number for lunch is still four.’ The young maid looked at her eagerly.

      Elizabeth put down her pen, smiling ruefully. ‘Assure Cook that so far my grandfather’s guests haven’t cancelled their luncheon appointment,’ she drawled, glancing at the gold watch her grandfather, Gerald Farnham, had given her for her twenty-first birthday two years ago. ‘And as it’s after eleven now I think we can all safely assume that they aren’t going to either,’ she added teasingly.

      Mary blushed. She was only four years younger than her mistress, but so much younger in her outlook on life. ‘Fancy Quinn Taylor coming here for lunch,’ she breathed ecstatically, her eyes glowing with anticipation.

      Elizabeth gave a dismissive shrug. ‘One assumes he still has to eat like us lesser mortals,’ she derided, glancing down at the half-finished letter. She didn’t particularly want to go to the Prestwicks’ for dinner, but Giles, the man she was currently dating, would want to go.

      ‘But he’s actually coming here,’ Mary repeated excitedly, in no hurry to return to the kitchen.

      Elizabeth was well aware of the fact that the singer was coming here, that even now the west lawn of the estate was having a stage and lighting erected on it in preparation for the concert her grandfather had agreed to let Quinn Taylor perform there.

      A pop concert wasn’t the sort of thing her grandfather would usually have agreed to, but the amount of money offered in return for the use of Farnham Hall for the televised concert had been too good for him to turn down. And her grandfather was all for making money where possible, she acknowledged ruefully. Besides which, he had tied the Quinn Taylor organisation up in so tight a contract that the west lawn and surrounding estate would probably be in a better condition when all the people and equipment were gone than it had been before they arrived! Her grandfather was nothing if not a good businessman.

      Entertaining the pop singer and his manager for lunch wasn’t something Elizabeth exactly relished doing, but her grandfather had believed it would make for good relations between them. She had a sneaking suspicion he might also be a Quinn Taylor fan!

      Apparently the singer had arrived in England late last night and expected to begin rehearsing the show this afternoon; her grandfather had decided that the least they could do was offer him lunch before he began. She just hoped she didn’t have to suffer through having him ask the entertainer for his autograph!

      ‘Shouldn’t you go and assure Cook that so far Mr Taylor hasn’t cancelled the arrangements?’ she drily prompted the young maid.

      Mary looked at her consideringly. ‘I’d be a nervous wreck if I were the one shortly to be having lunch with Quinn Taylor,’ she sighed dreamily.

      ‘Well, you aren’t,’ Elizabeth said more sharply than she intended, sighing as Mary looked hurt by her attitude. ‘I’m sorry, Mary,’ she dismissed. ‘But there are several other things I would rather be doing today than having lunch with Mr Taylor.’

      ‘I’d give a whole year’s wages just to be able to say I spoke to him,’ Mary said longingly.

      Considering that the wages paid to the household staff at the Hall were some of the highest in the area, Mary’s sacrifice wouldn’t be a small one, and all for the opportunity to talk to a man who probably didn’t deserve her hero-worship