Fairytale Come Alive

by Kristen Ashley

  Then she watched as he woke, instantly reaching out to an empty bed.

  Then he came up on an elbow, his eyes narrowing on the bed. He sat up and looked to the bathroom.

  The door was open.

  His eyes fell on the nightstand. Bella’s things were gone. Fiona saw that he noted that immediately.

  He got out of bed and stalked naked to the wardrobe.

  Empty.

  He strode angrily to the bathroom, pulling the chord for the light, yanking back the glass door to the tub (even though he could see through the glass, for goodness sake).

  Then he went back to the bedroom, tugged on his jeans and stopped, gazing around, jaw tight, fury pounding off of him.

  His gaze caught on the scented candle Bella left behind on the nightstand. Fiona watched him pick it up. He studied it for a moment. Then he pulled off the stoppered top and smelled it before he calmly put the top back on.

  He stood silent and still as he continued to examine the candle.

  Then, with a twist of his torso and a brutal underarm throw, he hurled the candle across the room.

  The glass broke and the sheetrock dented as it hit the wall and then fell with a clunk to the floor.

  Fiona floated behind him as he grabbed his clothes and stalked angrily out of the room.

  He tossed his shirt and socks into the clean, tidy and dirty-clothes-less laundry room, making to move by it but he thought better of it. He stopped, walked back a step and glared into the room, his face a ferocious scowl.

  He continued into the great room, Fiona drifting after him. He dumped his boots on the floor and started up the steps. He got halfway up before he pivoted and walked right back down. Still scowling, furious and looking like he was ready to commit murder, he walked right up to the coffee canister.

  Wrenching it open, he moved to the pot.

  He saw the note and stilled.

  He set the canister aside, seized the note and read it, his jaw tightening so much, a muscle ticked there.

  Then his jaw went slack and his lips parted.

  Fiona watched his eyes scan the note again.

  Then she watched as he threw back his head and burst out laughing.

  Still chuckling, he flipped the switch to on and, still holding the note, he moved to the stairs and bounded up them, two at a time.

  Chapter Nine

  Tiny Dancer

  Isabella

  “I don’t get to keep the petals?” Sally asked from beside Isabella in the backseat of the Rolls Royce. Sally was carrying her basket of velvety red rose petals, still wrapped in film.

  “No, sweetheart, you have to throw them on the ground so Annie can walk on them,” Isabella answered, fidgeting in her seat.

  She’d managed to remain calm and act joyful during the entire morning of getting ready at Fergus’s house but now, with the church getting closer and closer (thus, seeing Prentice after last night getting closer and closer), she was losing it.

  Mikey, Isabella worried, saw through her artificial calm, considering he spent a lot of time giving her questioning looks which she ignored.

  But Isabella remained focused. Annie was beside herself with nerves, terrified some hideous event was going to happen to stop the day’s festivities.

  “Tidal wave!” she’d shouted at one point even though the sun was shining and the nip in the air had disappeared and it was an unseasonably warm day.

  “Annie, there’s not going to be a tidal wave,” Isabella replied sedately, watching from her place lounging fully dressed and completely done up on her friend’s bed as the stylists fashioned Annie’s hair.

  “What’s a tidal wave?” Sally whispered loudly, lounging beside her.

  Isabella looked at Prentice’s daughter.

  From the minute Debs had deposited Sally at Fergus’s that morning (which caused Isabella more anxiety but Debs had only looked at her inquisitively then she’d shocked Isabella by giving her a tentative smile then she’d transferred Sally’s small hand directly to Isabella’s and left without uttering a single word), Sally had barely been away from Isabella’s side.

  “I’ll explain later. Miss Annie is having a crisis of the mad mind,” Isabella whispered back, also loudly.

  “I’m not mad,” Annie snapped, sounding mad.

  Sally stared in astonishment at the usually good-humored Annie.

  Then she whispered, again loudly, “What’s a crisis of the mad mind?”

  Isabella laughed and gave the girl a hug, promising into Sally’s hair (which, at Sally’s insistence, Isabella herself had done), “I’ll explain that later too.”

  The stylists had managed to tame Annie’s mad hair. The makeup artist had managed to make up her face through Annie alternately ranting and squirming. And Isabella and Annie’s other two bridesmaids had managed to get her dressed.

  And she looked stunning.

  Surveying her, Isabella remarked, “I think the only thing you have to worry about is knocking Dougal dead when he sees how beautiful you are.”

  At her words, Annie jumped forward, covered Isabella’s mouth and shouted, “Don’t tempt the fates!”

  Isabella laughed under Annie’s hand. Then she hugged her. Then she gave her the sapphire and diamond bracelet that was to be her friend’s something new and part of her something blue. Then she gave Annie her mother’s sapphire and diamond earrings that were to be her something old. Then she gave Annie her own sapphire and diamond pendant that was to be her something borrowed.

  Then Annie burst into tears and the makeup artists had to do a touch up.

  Now, they were on their way, Isabella and Sally with Annie’s two other bridesmaids, Patty and Hannah, sharing one Rolls. Annie following with Fergus in the other. Neither bridesmaid was a villager (thankfully). Patty was an old friend from Northwestern that Isabella had long since lost touch with and Hannah had been a trainee physical therapist Annie met during her rehabilitation.

  Patty and Hannah were both wearing lovely, but differently styled, sapphire blue dresses.

  That day, Isabella discovered that they were allowed to choose their style dress.

  Isabella’s was Annie’s choice. A strapless sheath, it fit her like a glove and had no ornamentation.

  Until just above her knees.

  There, it burst in a wide slit, the hem and slit sporting two, layered, opulent ruffles that trailed down and back in a short train (neither Patty nor Hannah’s dresses were anything near as lavish).

  Annie had also chosen her shoes, ultra-sexy, very-high, spike-heeled, delicate strappy sandals that were even a challenge for Isabella to wear and she wore high heels all the time.

  The dress was gorgeous, as were the shoes. But both were sexy, managing to be sophisticated as well as daring.

  She looked like a cosmopolitan flamenco dancer.

  It was too bold and too chic for a church wedding attended by villagers who hated its wearer.

  Fortunately (or unfortunately as the case definitely was), Isabella had bigger things to worry about.

  Things as big as a handsome, tall, powerfully built architect who was likely not going to be happy he woke up alone.

  She had no idea what came over her last night. She’d barely even tried to push Prentice away.

  No, she knew what came over her. Prentice had always had a unique talent with being able, quickly, to excite her.

  Laurent, her only other lover, had called her frigid on more than one occasion (in other words, regularly).

  For twenty years, she’d lamented the fact that she and Prentice had never made love. She’d fantasized about it again and again, when she was with him and after they were over.

  And last night, she had it.

  And, to her shock, it was better than any of her fantasies.

  Far better.

  Way far better.

  And because of that, she’d been weak. A coward. And selfish, selfish, selfish.

  She hadn’t protected him. She’d taken what he gave and then got gree
dy.

  She didn’t know what he was thinking and couldn’t let her mind go there. She just knew that her life was not filled with lucky happenstance. Where she went, tragedy and despair followed.

  And Prentice, Jason and Sally had enough of that.

  Too much.

  Therefore, she was sticking to her plan regardless that things seemed to change last night and change a great deal.

  She was leaving directly after the reception.

  She’d even talked Fergus into following her to the estate where they were holding the reception so she could drop her fully packed rental there and make a fast getaway.

  In the car on the way back to his house, Fergus had offered, “With Annie gone tonight, if things aren’t working at Prentice’s, you can sleep in her room.”

  “Thank you, Fergus, but I need to get going.”

  “Your flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow,” he reminded her.

  “I know and things are fine at Prentice’s. Really. It’s just too much, for all of us.” She turned from her study of the landscape to look at his handsome profile and asked softly, “You understand, don’t you?”

  “Haven’t had any time with you myself, lass.”

  Her heart lurched. He was right and she remembered again just how much she liked Fergus.

  She did her best to ignore her heart and her best, as ever, wasn’t good enough.

  “Come to Chicago next year with Annie and Dougal. I’ll spend loads of time with you there. I’ll even take you to a Cubs game,” she suggested.

  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and shook his head.

  Then he said, “Never understood American baseball.”

  “That’s fine. I’ve never understood English football,” she returned teasingly.

  “Football’s football, the world over, except in America, where its soccer. Always have to buck tradition, you Americans.”

  She laughed, Fergus chuckled and she relaxed.

  For about two seconds.

  Then her mind filled with Prentice again and she started fidgeting.

  “They’re too pretty to be walked on!” Sally exclaimed, taking Isabella from her thoughts.

  “What are, honey?” Isabella murmured distractedly.

  “The petals!” Sally cried.

  Isabella turned to focus on the girl, kissed the top of her head then put her hands to both sides of her beautiful face.

  She examined it at the same time she memorized every feature.

  Then she whispered, “It’s tradition. A magical tradition. Every heroine at the end of a fairytale gets to walk to her hero on a bed of rose petals. And you get to create that magic. Don’t you want to do that for Annie?”

  Sally’s face had gone from near to pout to spellbound.

  “I didn’t know it was magic,” Sally breathed.

  Isabella heard Hannah chuckle.

  “Well it is,” Isabella told Sally.

  Sally nodded enthusiastically. “I wanna create magic.”

  “We all do,” Patty commented. “But this time, it’s all yours, precious.”

  Sally, eyes wide, sat back and sighed in happy contentment.

  Isabella looked out the window and her heart leapt to her throat in terror.

  They were arriving at the church and Prentice, wearing a dark suit (not a tux or morning suit, Dougal had put his foot down) that not only fit him beautifully but he was wearing unbelievably well, was standing outside.

  Oh dear.

  The Rolls Royce barely halted before Prentice was there, hand to the door handle, pulling it open.

  He leaned in, his every-colored eyes pinning Isabella to the spot before he grasped her hand and pulled her from the car.

  “What on earth?” Hannah whispered.

  “Daddy!” Sally shrieked.

  The minute her feet hit the pavement, Isabella didn’t get the chance to say a word, Prentice started walking, dragging her behind him.

  Annie was out of her Rolls, her face white a sheet.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked as Prentice and Isabella came up to her.

  Prentice halted and when he did so, he yanked Isabella against his side and his arm clamped firm around her waist.

  Annie’s eyes dropped to his arm. Fergus had also alighted and his eyes did the same.

  “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.