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.”
Prentice opened his mouth to speak but Jason was suddenly standing in front of Carver Austin, close in front of him.
“You’re not taking Miss Bella anywhere!” he shouted and Carver didn’t hesitate. He shoved Fiona’s son aside, striding toward his daughter.
Fiona prepared to launch a ghostly attack but she didn’t get her chance.
Bella wrenched free of Prentice’s arm and she took two angry steps toward her father, switched directions and caught Jason with an arm around his chest. Pulling him roughly so his back was against her front, she backed up, dragging Jason with her.
Her hold and actions fiercely protective, her words, spoken in a tone so harsh, it was scratching and hard to hear, seconded her actions.
“Don’t you dare touch him. Don’t you dare. Hit me, humiliate me, criticize me, but don’t you dare touch Jason.”
She backed into Prentice and stopped. His arm slid around her waist instantly. Sally, face full of fear, ran through the crowd and threw her arms around Bella’s thighs. Burying her face in her own arm, Sally held onto Bella as she trembled.
Bella’s hand not around Jason went to the nape of Sally’s neck.
Carver took this all in, not missing a thing, especially not the fact that Jason shared his father’s unusual eye color.
“Well done, Isabella. Ready-made family. You claimed your fisherman and now you can finally play house like you’ve always wanted.”
The cruelty of his words sent Fiona reeling back several inches.
Was this man actually Bella’s father?
Prentice had a different reaction.
Again in a growl, this one as frightening as it was threatening, he demanded, “Fergus, I swear to Christ, get him the fuck out of here.”
It was Dougal that strode forward stating, “You’re done, mate.”
Carver glared at him. “Don’t lay a hand on me.”
“Allow me to lay a hand on you,” Mikey said from behind Carver then he bunched Carver’s suit jacket in his fist, turned and hustled the older man inelegantly out the door.
Fergus and Dougal’s father, Hamish, followed.
Bella and Fiona’s family stood still on the dance floor, the eyes of everyone in the room were on them.