Fairytale Come Alive by Kristen Ashley, now you can read online.
Prologue
The Destruction
Prentice
“You’re a fisherman,” Carver Austin said, his voice filled with derision, even his lip was curled.
Prentice Cameron could not believe this bloke.
His eyes moved from Austin to Elle.
The minute he’d walked into Fergus McFadden’s home in answer to Elle’s father’s summons and laid eyes on Elle, Prentice knew something was wrong.
She wasn’t wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Her lustrous, light brown hair wasn’t falling free down her back or pulled to the top of her head in a haphazard knot. Her hazel eyes weren’t shining with mischief or humor or happiness.
Instead, her usually thick, wavy hair was smoothed back in a neat ponytail at the nape of her neck and falling in a long sleek column down her back. Not a wild, riotous wave in sight.
Prentice loved her soft, beautiful, unruly hair; he thought it defined her perfectly.
She was also, he had noticed immediately, wearing makeup, which she never did because she didn’t need it.
Lastly, she was wearing a sophisticated light blue dress which, Prentice had to admit, looked sweet on her but he also noted its obvious style and expense.
He knew she was rich but she never acted it, nor did she dress the part.
Never as in never.
And Elle was usually chatty and energetic. Unbelievably chatty and energetic. It was difficult to keep her focused and in one place. Even when they were drinking at a pub, she shifted on her stool and chattered away. It was as if she had so much energy, if she didn’t fidget and talk to release some of it, she would explode. Prentice was often forced to haul her into his body and pin her to his side or kiss her to shut her up, neither of which he minded in the slightest.
Now, she seemed frozen. Not as if today’s shift from the unusually hot weather they were having to gray and drizzling had caused her to have a chill. It was as if she was frozen from the inside. She’d barely said a word since he’d arrived and she hadn’t fidgeted once.
In fact, she’d hardly looked at him at all.
“Elle, are you all right?” Prentice asked and her eyes, which were studying the carpet, flitted to his briefly then slid away.
“Perfectly fine,” she replied, her voice strong, cultured, controlled, a voice that he’d never heard before.
Elle was an open, friendly person, everything about her screamed it. The last two summers she spent in the village, she’d charmed every soul there with her nearly pathological sociability. By the end of her first summer, she knew every man, woman and child and their pets and they all adored her (even the pets).
But most especially Prentice.
Now, she sounded like an entirely different person.
Prentice’s vague sense of alarm intensified.
“Elle,” he repeated, preparing to move toward her. She was seated in an armchair. He was standing, facing off against her father who, from the very beginning of this meeting made no bones about the fact he didn’t like the idea of a lowly Scottish fisherman marrying his wealthy, educated daughter.
Before he could move, however, Austin spoke.
“Isabella has had a change of heart about your proposal.”
As Prentice’s eyes were still on Elle, he saw her body give a small jolt before he watched her fingers curl into tight fists in her lap.
Prentice’s alarm turned to anger.
His gaze moved back to Austin.
“That’s surprising,” now Prentice’s voice was filled with derision, “Elle seemed pretty excited about it when I put the ring on her finger.”