Ghost 05 - Fairytale Come Alive

by Kristen Ashley

  “You’re impossible,” she retorted, hearing her voice filled with feminine satisfaction mingled with laughter.

  “No,” he whispered, his finger slid inside, she stopped laughing and gasped with pleasure against his mouth, “I’m greedy.”

  Then he kissed her, his tongue sliding in her mouth, his finger moving in tandem with his tongue.

  And he kissed her until Elle’s mind was in a fog and her hips rode his hand.

  His mouth tore from hers and his lips slid to her ear as his finger stroked her. “I know I just had you, baby, but I want you again, this time, on your knees.”

  She didn’t hesitate before saying, “Okay.”

  His finger pressed deep as his voice rumbled, “Christ, I fucking love you.”

  Elle wanted to respond but Prentice didn’t give her the chance.

  His mouth took hers in another kiss then he took her on her knees and after, when he had her cuddled close to his warmth, she fell asleep before she remembered to tell that she loved him too.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Spooked

  Fiona

  Fiona floated, her arse close to the stool next to Jason’s, her ghostly eyes were pointed toward the kitchen.

  She was avidly watching Prentice and Bella whilst Jason was avidly concentrating on what was on his breakfast plate and trying not to grin.

  Sally was forking hash browns into her mouth, swinging her legs and humming to herself through a full mouth, completely oblivious.

  Prentice had his hips to the counter, his jaw was tight and his hand was wrapped around a mug of hot coffee in a way that looked like his hand would rather be strangling someone.

  The someone he’d rather be strangling was Bella, who was scrubbing a skillet like she wanted it to disappear under her ministrations.

  They were having a tiff.

  And it was hilarious as it always was and, lately, it had been happening a lot.

  It had been over a month since they returned from Chicago. Fiona hadn’t been able to go but something happened there, something that had to do with Bella’s odious father and, whatever that something was, it flicked a switch on in Bella.

  In the time after “The Kettle Incident” (as Fiona was calling it in her mind) and before they went to Chicago, Bella had been anxious. It was obvious and it was worrying not only because Fiona’s eternity hinged on Bella’s happiness but just because it was difficult to see Bella in that state.

  Bella didn’t trust that her life could turn on a dime and, after all she’d endured, why would she?

  After they came back from Chicago, Bella was changed. She seemed slightly more settled, more assured but still she was somewhat uncertain, nervous and hesitant.

  With Prentice’s unwavering devotion (and it was indeed devotion, even if it was sometimes irritated devotion) and Sally and Jason’s too, Fiona watched Bella’s confidence grow then blossom and finally bloom.

  But it bloomed out-of-control.

  Bella of old was back with a vengeance.

  And Fiona loved it.

  Prentice, on the other hand, found it frustrating on occasion and on other occasions annoying and sometimes downright infuriating.

  Fiona thought watching her family with Bella would be hard.

  It wasn’t.

  Seeing them happy and whole again was a gift. It was a weird gift but after watching more than a year of Prentice struggling and Jason grieving, it was definitely a gift and a treasured one too.

  Now Fiona just had to practice on her “magic”, whatever the bloody hell that was, and after a month with Fiona intensely aware that time was sliding by, she had no more clue.

  She also had no clue as to what danger threatened Bella. Her father, from what tidbits she heard Prentice and Bella murmuring about, was obviously out of the picture. And the entire family had become old news, there weren’t even photographers around the village anymore.

  Apparently Isabella Austin Evangelista shacking up with an architect (an award-winning one at that) wasn’t a hot news item worthy of continued exploration.

  It was, the photographers found, mostly Bella looking fantastic as always but not stepping out on the town. Instead, she was going grocery shopping, picking the kids up at school, chatting with villagers on the pavements and the like.

  Boring.

  To them.

  But Bella was clearly having the time of her life.

  “Kids, books,” Prentice ordered when he saw their plates clean.

  Jason scurried off his stool, happy to get away from the heavy air in the kitchen so he could grin his father’s wicked grin somewhere where he wouldn’t be hit by the heat of Prentice’s irritated gaze which had happened before.

  Jason, like his mother, thought Prentice and Bella’s fiery relationship was amusing. Likely because Fiona’s son wasn’t stupid and he sensed that there couldn’t be anger without love. If you didn’t care about someone, you wouldn’t care enough to fight with them.

  Fortunately for Jason, (unfortunately for Fiona but she was working through it), he didn’t realize their volatility had a whole hell of a lot to do with passion too.

  Which Prentice and Bella also obviously had, in abundance.

  Sally didn’t move so quickly.

  “Elly Belly?” she called. “Can you give me a manicure after school?”

  “I gave you one yesterday, sweetie,” Bella answered, still scrubbing the skillet which was, Fiona thought it important to note, thoroughly clean and had been for the last five minutes.

  “Can you teach me guitar?” Sally went on.

  “The guitar’s too big for you still, Sally. Like I said before, give it a year or so and we’ll start.”

  “Can we have your apple caramel-umble for pudding tonight?” Sally pressed. Apple caramel-umble was the name Sally had given the pudding Bella had made the week before. It was supposed to be a crumble but she’d been distracted by her boxes arriving and she was unpacking at the same time she was getting the Christmas decorations out therefore she accidentally doubled the brown sugar and the butter so it ended up a gooey, caramelized mess which the children had adored.

  “We had that last week, Sally, now go upstairs and get your books,” Bella said as Prentice delivered the children’s plates to the side of the sink.

  “Daddy,” Sally, finding her efforts with Bella unsatisfactory, switched targets. “Now that we’re used to Blackie, can I have a puppy?”

  Prentice leaned his hips against the counter next to the sink and leveled his eyes on his daughter. His method for dealing with his children was far more time-economical than Bella’s.

  “Books,” he commanded firmly in a voice that didn’t invite argument or discussion.

  Sally was also not stupid, she knew that voice. She made a pouty face but slid off the stool and hurried up the stairs.

  Prentice watched her progress and the minute Sally disappeared, his head turned to Bella.

  “Elle –”

  “Save it!” she hissed under her breath.

  Prentice looked to the ceiling.

  Then he looked back at Bella and asked with impatient disbelief, “Honest to God?”

  Bella went still as a statue, dropped the skillet, turned to him and put her soapy hands on her hips.

  Her reply was also said with impatient disbelief, “Seriously?”

  Fiona didn’t know what they were arguing about.

  She had, in the past month, not managed to recognize her “magic” but she had managed to figure out how to pop herself back and forth between her ghostly haunting of her old home and her serene tent by the stream. She usually went back there at night when she was exhausted from trying to make pixie dust fly from her fingertip or shouting soundless “abracadrabras” and then throwing the force of her emotions at one of Prentice’s whisky glasses on the balcony, trying to make it explode. She’d return in the morning to haunt her family, search for clues as to what danger plagued Bella and try to discover her magic.

  Thus,
this morning, she missed their fight.

  Which, in a way, made their incomprehensible verbal tussle all the more amusing.

  Prentice was losing patience, Fiona could tell this when he leaned toward Bella and his voice got lower and far more irritated.

  “This is your home now, Elle.”

  “I’m aware of that, Pren.”

  “You need to make it yours,” he demanded.

  “It already is,” she snapped.

  “You need to put your mark on it.”

  She threw her hand out to indicate the abundant Christmas decorations that she, Prentice and the kids put out most of which were old but some of which Bella had bought, not to mention some framed pictures of her, Annie and Mikey that she’d dotted around the place and replied, “I already have!”

  He got even closer and said even lower, “You fucking well know what I mean.”

  She leaned closer too and returned, “Redecorating isn’t putting my mark on a house, Prentice Cameron.”

  Fiona emitted a useless, ghostly gasp and floated back several feet.

  Prentice wanted Bella to redecorate?

  Fiona had spent months choosing furniture, spent years buying and even paying off paintings that she’d found, deliberated greatly over the frames she’d buy to put her family’s photos in.

  The blinds…

  The crockery…

  The… the…

  The nerve!

  Fiona tried not to take sides when they were fighting but she was firmly on Bella’s side in this one.

  Prentice dragged his fingers through his hair, indicating that his patience was spent before he muttered, “Fucking hell, Elle.”

  Elle grabbed the children’s dishes and started to rinse them mumbling, “It never ceases to piss me off all the times you say it that my name rhymes with fucking hell.”

  Prentice ignored her rant and threatened which meant promised, “If you don’t do it, I will.”

  “Be my guest,” she shot back.

  He glared at her bent body as she slammed the children’s plates and cutlery into the dishwasher.

  Then he pulled in a deep breath and when she straightened, kicking the door closed to the dishwasher and starting to walk away, he leaned forward and caught her at the waist.

  Pulling her back to his front, she struggled for a minute before his mouth went to her ear.

  “All right, Elle, I didn’t want to say it but here it is. That bedroom is now yours and mine but it was Fiona’s and mine.” Fiona’s spectral body grew still at the same time Bella’s corporeal one did. “I thought I’d be okay with it, sleeping with you there, fucking you there, but as time goes by, I find I’m no’. So I need you to make it ours so I can fucking move past this. I’m asking you to help me with that. Now do you fucking get me?”

  Fiona watched as Bella’s face paled and then her body relaxed, her anger fled and she turned in the curve of his arm.

  Her hands went up to curl on his neck; she leaned into him and asked softly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I just did,” he clipped, still angry, probably because he had to share something difficult or, since he was a man, because he had to share at all.

  “Yes, but before you said,” her voice dipped low and she assumed a (very bad) Scottish accent to indicate she was mimicking Prentice, “‘You need to redecorate this fucking room, Elle.” She pressed closer and went back to her own voice. “You didn’t tell me why.”

  “Now you know.”

  Her expression for the first time in weeks grew uncertain. “I’m not good at decorating.”

  “Ask Sally, I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to give you some ideas,” he bit out, obviously not noting her expression and he was also not being humorous but flippant.

  Bella decided (wisely) to ignore his flippancy and teased, “I’m not sure we want a room decorated in pink and purple with plentiful amounts of glued on glitter.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what it looks like, just as long as it’s something that’s ours.”

  Fiona glared at her husband as he obviously didn’t feel like letting go his anger even though Bella had given in.

  Prentice always could hold a mean grudge.

  Bella was more patient with it than Fiona ever was and she leaned in further and whispered in his ear, “I’ll see to it Pren.”

  She kissed his jaw and tried to move away but Prentice’s arm tightened.

  “What I said doesn’t mean –” he started but Bella cut him off.

  “I know.”

  “You know I love it when we –” he began again only for Bella to interrupt him again.

  “I know.”

  Fiona started dematerializing as Bella kept whispering something about having to do something about Prentice being grumpy in the morning.

  This was difficult for him, she knew, and he didn’t need an additional witness, even her, who he didn’t know was there.

  Luckily, Bella knew it was difficult too and she was doing a fine job in making it easier.

  Fiona stopped dematerializing when the doorbell rang. She fully materialized and watched both Prentice and Bella’s heads swing to the door.

  “I’ll get it!” Sally shrieked from upstairs and Fiona’s body turned to watch her daughter run headlong down the stairs.

  No, strike that.

  Fiona’s body turned to watch with unadulterated fear as her daughter ran headlong down the stairs.

  Fiona’s lass had been knocked over by a car, she was fully healed now, the cast off and she seemed no worse for the wear. It would be an even bigger tragedy if, after surviving that, Sally broke her neck falling down the stairs.

  “Sally, be careful,” Bella called, unadulterated fear heavy in her tone and Fiona let out her nonexistent breath (whilst Bella did the same audibly) when Sally made it to the bottom, turned on one foot, nearly toppling over, and dashed to the front door.

  Bella and Prentice both made their way toward the great room but they didn’t have to approach the door because the caller announced himself and when he did this, he did it loudly.

  “Mikey’s home!”

  “Hurrah!” Sally screeched, beside herself with glee. “Mister Mikey’s here!”

  Prentice turned his eyes to Bella.

  Bella did the same to Prentice and shrieked, “This is brilliant! Mikey’s great at decorating!”

  Then she too ran forward, throwing her arms around Mikey while Sally jumped up and down and clapped.

  Fiona’s eyes moved to Prentice and she saw he was standing frozen, staring at Bella swinging around in Mikey’s arms. He looked arrested in time, his eyes glued to the two friends, his face filled with awe as if he was watching a miracle occur.

  At first, Fiona thought this was strange.

  Then, slowly, her eyes slid to the friends and she too stared.

  This scene couldn’t be any more different than the one that happened in Fergus’s entryway three months before.

  Bella, in jeans and jumper, her feet bare, her face makeup free, her hair in a messy bunch on top of her head, her arms around her friend, her mouth laughing, her face aglow.

  She was not detached, quiet, remote and cold, wearing a fancy suit, posh shoes with her hair all twisted in an elegant bun.

  She looked not only like she belonged in a family home in the wilds of Scotland but like she was created to live this existence.

  Bella pulled away from Mikey but kept her hands curled on his shoulders. He still had his hands at her waist and he too was looking down at his friend’s face with wonder etched in his features.

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” she cried. “What a tremendous surprise and perfect timing. Prentice wants me to redecorate the bedroom and I have no clue.”

  Mikey blinked and for a moment Fiona thought he might very well cry.

  He pulled himself together just as he pulled Bella close again and drawled to Prentice, “Then I’m here in the nick of time, as usual. Decorating is not Bella’s forte.”


  Prentice had moved forward and was offering his hand, now smiling warmly at Bella’s friend while he greeted, “Mikey, good to see you, mate.”

  Mikey shook his hand and then leaned back, proclaiming dramatically, “Good to see you too.” He gazed down at Bella and asked, “Girlie-girl, what’s in the water here? Because I want some of it. You look ten years younger and he’s hotter than hot and since he was hotter than hot before, he’s off-the-scales hotter than hot now.”

  Bella snuggled into Mikey’s body, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder as she looked at Prentice. At her cuddle, Mikey looked like Fiona reckoned anyone would look before they dropped dead of a heart attack. Then his face grew soft.

  Bella didn’t notice.

  “I think he either made a deal with the devil or he’s the bastard love child of Father Time,” Bella remarked with a radiant grin thrown in for good measure.

  Mikey burst out laughing but Fiona looked at Prentice and saw him gazing at Bella with that expression he got before Fiona was popped back to her tent by the stream.

  “Mister Mikey!” Jason shouted as he also ran down the stairs.

  “Jason, be careful on the stairs,” Bella cautioned as she moved out of Mikey’s embrace.

  Jason ignored Bella, ran up to Mikey and then her son gave him a quick hug.

  Jason stepped back and asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Surprise inspection,” Mikey muttered, his eyes on Bella.

  “What?” Jason asked, his voice filled with humor.

  “Nothing, bucko,” Mikey answered. “I just was sitting around, thinking, ‘What am I going to do for Christmas?’ and it came to me that Bella said the guest suite in your house was magnificent so I figured I just had to spend time there and, therefore, invite myself to Christmas with all of you, so here I am!”

  Jason grinned and declared, “You’re mental.”

  “Yes, indeed I am,” Mikey replied, sounding proud of Jason’s assessment.

  “Oh my God! School!” Bella shouted. “Kids, car! Mikey, I’ll be back in twenty minutes, tops.”

  “Elle, I’ll take them this morning,” Prentice offered.

  “No, it’s out of your way and you have that meeting. I’m good, Mikey’s good.” She was hustling the kids to the door then she suddenly changed directions, dashed forward, threw herself in Prentice’s arms, pressed a quick kiss on his mouth and dashed back, going back to her babbling. “Mikey, coffee, toast, get your stuff settled in the guest suite, twenty minutes.”