Fairytale Come Alive (25 page)

“Everything’s fine,” Prentice announced but his voice was tight. “The groom is waiting and he’s a fucking wreck, wanting you to beam here using space age technology from a television show rather than ride here in a car. Clarissa called and she and Jennifer’s car had problems but everything is fine now and they’re five minutes away. We’ll start when the mother-of-the-bride and the mother-of-the-groom finally arrive.”

Annie breathed an audible sigh of relief.

Prentice’s eyes sliced to Fergus.

“Keep Sally here. Elle and I have to talk,” he ordered.

At his words, Annie started, her eyes getting wide.

Fergus’s gaze moved to Sally, who had joined them and was looking from one adult to another appearing happy but confused.

Then Fergus grinned, he curled firm fingers on Sally’s shoulder, pulling her to his legs and he nodded to Prentice.

Prentice didn’t hesitate further. Dropping his arm from her waist, he took her hand again and dragged her around the side of the church.

“Prentice,” she snapped, tugging at her hand unsuccessfully, her heart tripping over itself. “Stop! What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. He dragged her around the side of the church to the back where he stopped.

“What on earth?” she asked irately, deciding to go with anger because fear was not an option.

She could
be
weak she just couldn’t
show
weakness. That was a lesson her father drilled into her using a variety of different methods.

Prentice tugged her toward him, she collided with his hard body then he stepped forward, taking her with him.

She hit the stone wall of the church, tipped her head back, mouth open to give him what for for scaring Annie and dragging Isabella around but she didn’t get out a sound.

He kissed her.

Hard, demanding, wet, deep and thorough.

It was a great kiss.

Of their own volition (not that she had the will to stop them) her hands slid up his shoulders, around his neck and she melted in his arms.

After he was done and she was putty in his hands, he lifted his head and his eyes bored into hers.

“
That’s
what I would have done if you’d have woken up in my arms,” he told her.

Her breath caught and her body trembled.

“Or part of it,” he finished.

“Prentice –” she started.

“I changed my mind,” he cut her off. “I don’t want to talk. I don’t want any explanations. I don’t give a fuck. I just want you.”

Her heart turned over and her belly clenched.

She tried to pull away.

He yanked her back.

“No, you don’t,” he warned, his voice low, his meaning crystal clear.

“Prentice, you don’t… you can’t…” She couldn’t think then she blurted, “Fiona.”

“Aye, we’ll talk about Fiona when the time is right.”

“But –”

His face dipped close to hers, his eyes went gentle and his voice went soft. “I told you, baby, when you came back to me, I’d make you work for it but I’d take you back. You may not want to be back but I don’t give a fuck. I’m keeping you this time.”

He remembered.

He remembered what he said.

She remembered it too. Every single word.

She felt tears sting the backs of her eyes.

“I –”

He touched his mouth to hers and she went silent.

Then he rested his forehead against hers and for some insane reason he was grinning.

“Don’t cry, Elle. Save it for when Dougal and Annie say, ‘I do’.”

“Pren –”

He kissed her silent again, this time with more than a brush on her lips.

When his mouth released hers, he didn’t give her the chance to speak; he took her hand and dragged her around to the front.

Dazed and panicked now for a different reason, Isabella noted that Clarissa and Dougal’s Mum, Jennifer, had arrived.

Everyone turned to them when Prentice dragged Isabella to the group and then fixed her to his side again with a strong arm at her waist.

“Are we ready?” he asked.

“Daddy, are you wearing lipstick?” Sally asked in return, her voice high and disbelieving, her face agog.

Fergus coughed into his hand.

Annie started giggling.

Clarissa beamed.

Jennifer stared.

Patty and Hannah started shuffling, ducking their grinning faces.

Isabella closed her eyes tight.

When she opened them, Prentice was casually wiping her lipstick from his mouth with a handkerchief.

When he’d completed this task, he tilted his head down to look at her and grinned before he whispered, “You might want to fix your lips, baby.”

Then he bent low, touched his lips to hers in front of
everybody
(including Sally!), left her swaying and entered the church.

* * * * *

Fiona

Fiona really wished she could get drunk.

Sure, it was lovely watching Annie and Dougal say, “I do”.

Bella had cried, Clarissa had cried, Old Lady Kilbride had cried, hell, there was barely a dry eye in the house even amongst the men. Even Sally had burst into tears, just for the sake of not being left out at which Bella had handed her and Annie’s bouquets to the next bridesmaid in line and picked Sally up, right in front of the congregation, cuddling her close as Sally sobbed baffled tears.

Fiona had also cried.

Hell, if you
didn’t
cry, you’d have to have a heart of stone.

Then they all went to the reception and in front of all and sundry, Prentice had pulled Isabella away while she was in the act of gracefully entering the Rolls.

With everyone watching in stunned, avid silence, he whirled her around and manhandled her into his Range Rover with Sally alternately skipping and dancing behind them, swinging her empty flower girl basket. Jason had followed slowly, a knowing but happy smirk on his face.

At the reception, Prentice glued Bella to his side. If she even considered making a run for it, Fiona would have sworn he’d have tackled her and wrestled her to his 4x4 and driven off into the sunset (after he’d ordered Jason and Sally into the car, of course).

He didn’t only glue her to his side, he made a public statement (but Fiona reckoned this statement was mostly directed at Bella) by being openly affectionate toward her in a way that could in
no
way be misread.

Annie looked delighted. It was the wedding gift she wanted above all, that was plain to see.

Dougal, at first, looked concerned. Then, as Prentice glared at the villagers, practically
daring
them to be mean to Bella so he could take them out (he’d even raised his brows at Hattie Fennick when she was approaching them, a nasty look on her face, but she read Prentice’s challenge, visibly paled and then switched directions at the last minute) Dougal started to become amused. Then he approached his friend, clapped him on the back and gave a surprised Bella a genuine, hearty hug.

Fergus and Clarissa were both obviously gleeful. As was Old Lady Kilbride.

And Mikey was practically crowing.

Some of the villagers seemed wary but most of them went with the flow.

It was only Bella who seemed to swing between puzzled and alarmed. The only time she seemed sure of herself was when she was with Jason or Sally (which went a long way at helping the villagers to decide to go with the flow).

And Fiona didn’t get it.

Clearly, she had a purpose for being on earth with her family. To make certain that everything was going to be all right. Now she figured that purpose was gone and her still being there was just plain mean. Or, perhaps, whatever powers that be were busy and she was low on the priority list.

Sure, she
supposed
she was happy that her family was healing and moving on.

But did she have to have her nose rubbed in it?

She understood when the dancing started.

The first dance was for Dougal and Annie and, again, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

Then Annie danced with Fergus and Dougal danced with Jennifer.

As they were taking their seats, Annie grinning for some reason nervously, Fiona materialized behind her. She was seating herself beside Bella and as the DJ asked the best man and maid of honor to take the dance floor, Annie quickly turned to her friend.

“I’m sorry, Bella. I arranged this a long time ago and –”

She didn’t get to finish, Prentice, never far from Bella, claimed her.

Wordlessly pulling her out of her seat, he guided her to the dance floor and then he took her in his arms.

And they danced alone on the dance floor, everyone watching, to Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer”.

For those who didn’t get it, watching Prentice and Bella sway barely moving, they would get it.

Even Fiona had to admit they fit perfectly. Prentice’s handsome dark head bent, his cheek pressed to hers, his lips at her ear. Bella’s beautiful white-blonde head tipped back, her cheek against his, her eyes carrying a sheen of tears, her lips trembling. Prentice’s arm was around her waist, noticeably tight. Her arm was around his shoulders, holding on as if that hold was the only thing keeping her standing.

His fingers, laced in hers, were lifted and pressed with Bella’s hand twisted and resting against his heart.

The room had melted from existence and everyone in it knew they were superfluous to what was happening on the dance floor to the sweet words of a sad, sad song.

It was a Scottish fairytale come alive, right before their eyes.

And Fiona could take no more.

She had a soft heart but this was ridiculous.

Then, on the closing notes to the song, a cold, imperious,
loud
voice sounded across the room.

“I should have known.”

Bella went still as a statue, almost like she was made of marble.

Prentice’s head shot up.

Fiona drifted so she could stare toward the edge of the dance floor.

An older man with impossibly good posture stood there wearing a suit and a venomous expression on his face.

Fiona had never seen him in her life and she still didn’t like him.

Bella slowly unlaced her hand from Prentice’s and turned around.

“Dad,” she whispered in a horrified voice, “what are you
doing
here?”

Oh God.

That
was Bella’s father?

He took a step forward and raked scathing eyes down Bella’s body.

“Dressed as a whore, acting like a whore.
Again,
” Carver Austin said.

This time, Prentice’s body turned to marble.

Gasps were heard around the room.

But he had yet to do his worst.

Bella came unstuck and walked swiftly to him.

“Dad, let’s just go outside and –”

She didn’t finish.

When she got close enough, Fiona and everyone else was shocked to see, his hand came back and he slapped her, sadistically. The fierce crack of his palm hitting her cheek sounded revoltingly throughout the room.

She was wearing hopelessly high heels and lost balance, falling to all fours at his feet.

The air in the room turned static and nobody moved.

Except Prentice who was there in a flash, bending low, his arm around Bella’s waist, he pulled her gently up in front of him and took five steps back, his face a mask of rage.

“Get out,” Prentice growled, voice rumbling with fury and Fiona feared he’d do harm to the older man, not that the old tosser didn’t deserve it, just that it wouldn’t have been a fair fight.

Bella’s father barely glanced at Prentice, his voice went high and mocking when he taunted, “
Dad, I love him. He’s not just a fisherman but even if he was, I wouldn’t care. I love him. I want to marry him. I want to spend the rest of my life in that village with him.
”

When he was done, everyone in the room, including Fiona, knew Mr. Austin was taunting Bella with her own, heartbreaking, long ago uttered words.

Most especially Prentice, whose face had gone white and whose arm around Bella had tightened.

But Carver Austin wasn’t done.

“And here you are, first chance you get, throwing yourself at him like a common tart. What is the
matter
with you?”

“Carver, I think you should leave,” Fergus was close, Dougal and Annie at his back.

Carver glared at Fergus then his eyes scraped over Dougal. “
You
should know better,” he said scornfully, speaking to Fergus but referring to Dougal.

“Carver, leave,” Fergus demanded.

“I’ll go and I’m taking Isabella with me. I should have
never
let her spend time with your daughter.”