Her eyes opened and they focused on Prentice.
The coolness hit her face like an arctic snap and she pulled away from Fergus, her gaze moving to Dougal.
“Dougal,” she said softly.
“Isabella,” Dougal returned roughly and Fiona could tell he was making an effort to be polite.
She started walking down the steps in her high heels, her head turned to the side and, if Fiona had tried that, she would have fallen flat on her face.
Isabella’s eyes were on Prentice.
“Prentice.” Again, that breathy voice.
What was it with that breathy shite? Fiona thought. She’d never spoken that way when she was there those summers long ago.
“Isabella,” Prentice replied.
Fiona stared at her.
Did she flinch?
Flinch?
No, no, Fiona’s paranormal senses were heightened but no way would butter-wouldn’t-melt Isabella Austin Evangelista flinch.
And if she did, why would she, simply upon hearing Prentice say her name?
“This calls for champagne!” Annie screeched, taking Fiona’s thoughts from the impossible flinch and rushing forward, tugging the man along with her and linking arms with Isabella.
“I’ll get it,” Dougal said immediately. “Prentice, a little help?”
“Of course,” Prentice murmured but Isabella spoke.
“One moment, please.”
Everyone stopped, as they would, her voice was still soft, slightly breathy but there was something about it that made you pay attention.
God, Fiona hated her.
“Prentice,” she held her hand out toward him and Fiona would have sucked in breath (again, if she had any), then Isabella turned to the unknown man, “this is Mikey. A friend of Annie and mine from –”
“I remember you mentioning Mikey,” Prentice interrupted and before Isabella could say more, Prentice walked forward hand extended to Mikey.
Isabella dropped her hand, her gaze moved to Dougal then away as Prentice shook Mikey’s hand.
“Pleasure,” Prentice muttered but Mikey pumped his arm like their handshake was the last thing he’d do before he died and he never wanted it to end.
“Prentice Cameron,” Mikey was staring avidly at Prentice then he turned to Isabella and Annie. “Girls, you were holding out. You said he was delicious but you didn’t say he was dee-lish-us.”
Dougal and Fergus (who had joined them) laughed.
Prentice chuckled and carefully disconnected his hand.
Annie giggled.
Isabella adopted her butter-wouldn’t-melt smile, effectively removing herself from the humorous situation entirely as if she was a casual observer, not a participant.
Yes, Fiona hated her.
Before Fiona could let the depths of her hatred settle (which would probably take a million years), the door flew open and Debs, Prentice’s sister, flew in.
Everyone turned and then they tensed.
Fiona grinned. She loved Debs.
And Debs hated Isabella Evangelista.
This, she thought, was going to be good.
Debs, as usual, didn’t disappoint.
She slammed the door behind her, took a step forward and opened her mouth.
Then she shouted, “You f**king bitch!”
Fiona looked at Isabella, her grin still in place but it faltered when she saw the cool look the heartless cow was directing at Debs who, Fiona knew, adored Isabella like a sister (once).
“Debs –” Prentice said warningly and started forward but Debs was not to be denied (again, as usual).
“I could not believe it when I heard you were going to be here.” Debs glanced at Annie and snapped, “I’m sorry, Annie, but you know it has to be said.”
“Debs –” Prentice repeated, reaching his sister and taking her by the upper arm which she yanked from his grip while her gaze snapped to his face.
“I know you’re over it because, luckily, you found a better one and married her. But me and everyone else,” Debs threw her arm wide to indicate the entire village, “wants her to know she is not welcome here.” Her eyes went back to Isabella. “So don’t think of playing any of your fancy rich girl games with any of our men this time around. Got me?”
“Who is this interesting creature?” Mikey muttered to Annie.
“Debs, really, this isn’t necessary, nor, might I add, nice,” Fergus cut in.
“I’m not known for being nice,” Debs retorted.
“You can say that again,” Mikey told her.
Debs’s eyes narrowed on Mikey. “And who are you, her newest victim?”
“No,” Mikey replied. “I’ve been her second best friend for over twenty years and if you don’t mind your manners, miss priss, I’ll be forced not to mind mine and you won’t like that. Do you have me?”
“How dare you!” Debs screeched.
“I dare easily, darling,” Mikey returned, completely unperturbed.
“Dougal, Prentice, do something,” Annie beseeched, looking like she was about ready to cry and Fiona forgot how much she hated Isabella and felt badly for her friend.
Surprisingly, Isabella forged into the breach.
“It’s perfectly fine,” she said, again softly her voice somehow carrying that weird authority and even Debs stopped her tirade and stared at her.
Then, even more surprisingly (and strangely, to Fiona’s way of thinking), she murmured, “It’s nothing less than I deserve.”
“You have that right,” Debs snapped back.
Isabella leveled her gaze on Debs and, if Fiona could still feel she would have felt a chill.
“Yes,” she said in a strong, cultured, not at all soft or breathy voice, “I do.”
Then without looking at Prentice, who was staring at her in what Fiona knew exactly was shock, or anyone else, Isabella turned to Annie and said, back to her soft voice, “I need to freshen up. I’ll be back for champagne.”
She leaned in and kissed her friend, nodded to Mikey and then gracefully and slowly walked up the stairs, arse swaying, like she hadn’t a care in the world.
Fiona’s apprehensive eyes moved to Prentice knowing he was an ass man and that was one fine ass, even as a woman she had to appreciate it. One could safely say Isabella Austin Evangelista had, somehow, since Fiona had died and seen any photos of her, put on a few pounds but, for her, they were a few good pounds which Fiona thought was distinctly unfair.
But Prentice wasn’t checking out Isabella’s arse, he was pulling his sister to the door.
“A word,” he said in his deep, warning voice that said, quite clearly, Debs was in trouble and not a little bit of it.