Damsels in Distress: Book Two: Desperately Ever After Trilogy Read online

  DAMSELS IN DISTRESS

  Book Two:

  Desperately Ever After series

  Laura Kenyon

  Praise for Laura Kenyon’s

  Desperately Ever After

  “Laura Kenyon makes happily ever after desperately delicious!”

  ~ Stephanie Evanovich, New York Times bestselling author of Big Girl Panties and The Sweet Spot

  “At times laugh-out-loud funny, and at times very touching, Desperately Ever After is the debut of a real talent.”

  ~ Elizabeth Blackwell, author of While Beauty Slept and The Letter

  “This story draws out the emotional side of our fairy tale princesses, while keeping the humor intact. … It’s no longer a case of just reading their stories and hoping to meet our prince charming and getting swept away. Kenyon shows that the fairy tale promise is not all that it’s cracked up to be. She keeps it real and enduring for the modern woman.”

  ~ Janice G. Ross, author of Damaged Girl and Island Hopping

  “An explosive cocktail that will have you laughing out loud and wanting more and more!”

  ~ Lost in Chick Lit

  “If you are looking for a fun and gossipy story to satisfy the holes left when Sex and the City and Desperate Housewives had their series finales (or even if you're going through Once Upon a Time withdrawal come season finale time) look no further than Desperately Ever After.”

  ~ Chick Lit Central

  “No more damsel in distress, useless without her prince, but modern day woman struggling with and enjoying love. Desperately Ever After is a wonderfully sarcastic, romantic and heartwarming tale about love and friendship with witty conversations, juicy clichés and a healthy dose of humor. I cannot wait to read the sequel!”

  ~ M’s Bookshelf

  “Empowering and hilarious, I think everyone should read this.”

  ~ Tea Party Princess

  “It’s the perfect book to be reading this summer and it’s completely unputdownable!”

  ~ The YA’s Nightstand

  “Desperately Ever After has a clever, whip-smart plot, an enchanting setting, and a lot of fun, strong female characters to root for.”

  ~ The Book Chick

  “Kenyon’s colorful imagery and often quick, lighthearted style makes it easy to keep flipping pages.”

  ~ New Canaan Advertiser

  “The book was spellbinding, a real honest tale of life that shows the bond between friends and that happily ever after isn’t necessarily the ending or the truth. Every character has flaws that make them real, and their story resonates off the page.”

  ~ Compelling Reads

  “Anyone who wants a debut author to watch before they sky-rocket into huge recognition should get this title.”

  ~ ChickLit Pad

  “I’m sure you all know each and every one of these princess’ stories but Laura puts an exciting twist on their happily ever after, which I loved.”

  ~ Chicklit vs. Fantasy

  “Laura Kenyon’s Desperately Ever After is part Disney princess, part Sex in the City, and part TMZ Celebrity Gossip Site … and it’s fabulous!”

  ~ Keep Calm and Write On

  “A fantastically funny, thought provoking and inspiring read and I am so pleased to discover that this book is the first in a series so I get to follow the women’s next adventures soon. It turns out that happily ever after was only the beginning!

  ~ Mature Bookworm

  “This book was interesting, different, funny and insightful. … From YA on up I think you will enjoy this retelling of what happens after the “And they lived happily ever after.”

  ~ Tracy Riva Books & Reviews

  “There are misunderstandings, secrets kept that should be shared (and vice versa), silly situations and reconciliations a-plenty, so summarizing the rest of the story would be no easy task and, besides, it would take away the fun of reading it.”

  ~ Girls Love to Read

  Damsels in Distress

  Copyright © 2014 by Laura Kenyon

  http://www.laurakenyon.com

  This book is licensed for personal use only. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All fairy tale references are based on works that exist in the public domain.

  For Allison,

  living proof that true love exists

  “What if Prince Charming had never shown up? Would Snow White have slept in that glass coffin forever? Or would she have eventually woken up; spit out the apple; gotten a job, a health care package, and a baby from her local neighborhood sperm bank? I couldn't help but wonder: inside every confident, driven, single woman, is there a delicate, fragile princess just waiting to be saved?”

  — Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City

  Contents

  Praise for Book One

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Map of Marestam

  Chapter 1: Belle

  Chapter 2: Rapunzel

  Chapter 3: Belle

  Chapter 4: Penelopea

  Mirror Column #1

  Chapter 5: Dawn

  Chapter 6: Rapunzel

  Chapter 7: Belle

  Chapter 8: Snow

  Mirror Column #2

  Chapter 9: Dawn

  Chapter 10: Belle

  Chapter 11: Snow

  Chapter 12: Belle

  Chapter 13: Dawn

  Mirror Column #3

  Chapter 14: Penelopea

  Chapter 15: Dawn

  Chapter 16: Belle

  Chapter 17: Rapunzel

  Chapter 18: Dawn

  Chapter 19: Snow

  Mirror Column #4

  Chapter 20: Dawn

  Chapter 21: Belle

  Chapter 22: Rapunzel

  Chapter 23: Dawn

  Mirror Column #5

  Chapter 24: Belle

  Chapter 25: Gray

  Chapter 26: Belle

  Chapter 27: Rapunzel

  Chapter 28: Dawn

  Note to Readers

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Preview of Book Three

  Chapter One

  BELLE

  With the exception of Belle’s momentary disappearance, the grand opening of the Phoenix B&B was brilliant. The morning fog broke early to usher in a bright turquoise afternoon, a tangerine sunset, and a starry black night. The dangling plum votives and cherries jubilee were showstopping. The band played on an extra hour—for free and at the request of the guests. By the end, no fewer than twenty pairs of shoes lay abandoned between the tables, which had been shoved to the grass to make room for more dancing. By all accounts, Belle’s great gamble was already a smashing success. By all accounts, that is, but her own.

  After the last brake light disappeared in a soft red haze and her friends’ hushed reassurances retreated into silence, Belle stepped into the shower and tried to disintegrate. She felt like nothing more than ash, an extraneous clump of cornstarch trapped in an insoluble skin. It was a horrid thought. Wrapping her arms over the tiny bulge protruding from her belly, she watched the water splatter against her swollen feet and tried to get a grip.

  Her friends had left the party happy and healthy, after all. Dawn hadn’t slipped back into a coma. Snow’s veins hadn’t suddenly filled with poison. Belle hadn’t taken the bait and returned to the
life she’d tried so hard to escape. But still, Ruby’s words writhed like maggots through her wounds—minus the healing properties.

  “All broken curses are linked,” the fairy had said. If Belle ended the marriage that had transformed Donner from beast back to man, everyone’s broken curses would return. Belle would be responsible for an exorbitant amount of suffering, countless happy endings ruined, lovers torn apart forever—all because she had the audacity to want her freedom.

  She leaned into the sandstone tiles that she’d handpicked barely a month earlier. They were light and smooth, and full of fascinating imperfections. She could stare at them for hours, tracing the waves of color and wondering how many years it took for them to get that way. At Braddax Castle, on the other hand, the bathroom was cold and sharp. Angular and metal. Donner hadn’t let her soften it at all once they married. Softening him had been enough—and look how long that lasted.

  She couldn’t bear the thought of returning to that existence. She’d come too far. The Phoenix had just opened its doors. The butter yellow alcove beside her bed was dressed and waiting for a crib. The guest rooms were already filled with excited young couples, hungry for sweet potato waffles in the morning and hours of hiking in the afternoon.

  Maybe the infallible Ruby Welles, one of the last pureblood fairies in a world of dwindling magic, was wrong. Maybe she’d misread that stupid book. Maybe the words had expired over the decades—like a block of cheddar cheese. Or at worst, maybe Belle could get around the prophecy by staying “married” in name only. Maybe she could find a way to live at her inn, have her baby, keep a “husband” she rarely had to see, and forget she’d ever clapped eyes on that magic rulebook at all.

  She straightened up and spun the faucet, slicing the water off at the head. The air vacuumed all the heat from her body instantly, leaving her naked, red, and shivering. She stepped onto the tile, instinctively avoided the mirror, and wrapped herself violently in a towel. Beast was probably still curled up beside the fireplace in the lounge—his favorite spot after the foot of her bed. She made a mental note to check all the locks when she went to fetch him. She’d be fully responsible for those things now.

  Then she pushed open her bedroom door.

  “All that steam can’t be good for the baby.”

  The voice cut through the room. Belle jolted and secured her slipping towel just in time. She fumbled for the light switch but the tiny lamp it powered barely revealed Donner’s silhouette.

  She wanted to shout out, to scream. What are you doing here? How did you get in? Do I need to get a restraining order?

  Instead, she squirmed her towel a bit higher on her chest, bit down on her rage, and waited.

  “So. This is your room,” he said, less a question than a personal observation.

  She bit her lip and stared at the bottle of stretch oil on her beside table. Her cleavage was itching like crazy. She couldn’t be pregnant and deal with this.

  “It’s nice.”

  Against the pastel walls, Donner was a massive dark spot that the peonies and baby unicorns were trying in vain to squeeze out. He looked closer to sixty than to thirty-six hunched there, half-hidden behind the curtain, which he was kneading and twisting around in his massive hands. Still, there was something poetic about him being in her brand new bedroom, in what was supposed to be her brand new life, without the slightest idea she’d just been crying her eyes out over the thought of having to stay with him.

  “I would have let you decorate our bedroom like this if you’d asked,” he said.

  Belle shook her head but didn’t see the point in arguing. It was harder to hate him when he stopped flexing his muscles and started wearing his remorse.

  “Donner, I’m tired. Whatever you want, we can talk about it at the next appointment with Dr. Frolick. It’s only —”

  “Listen to me!” he roared as both curtains crashed to the floor, revealing a bare window—black glass against the black sky—and a reflection that sent Belle’s heart racing. She immediately clutched her stomach. It couldn’t be.

  “Something’s happening,” Donner said, stepping slowly into the light. “Belle. Something’s happening to me.”

  The expression on his face was one she hadn’t seen in years. Sure, he’d looked grim in recent months. But that was all for show—an attempt to swipe a little public sympathy, to make the world forget he’d been screwing his wife’s sister. But this didn’t look quite the same. Now, his eyes betrayed no interior pride. His lips restrained no hostility. Now, he just looked sad and alone.

  Like a child preparing to accept his punishment, Donner began to creep forward. There was nothing particularly menacing about this, but Belle’s arm instinctively struck out in self-defense. He stopped abruptly—an undeniable look of shame pasted across his chiseled face.

  He lowered himself onto the edge of her bed and studied the lavender carpet. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you.” He raised his eyes and glanced at her stomach. “Either of you.”

  There was an impossible softness in his voice. Belle caught herself leaning forward, losing her protective stance. Then she felt a tiny poke from inside in her belly. Was that—

  “Have you felt the baby move yet?”

  The question caught her off guard. “No,” she said, not exactly lying. She hadn’t felt anything until just now, and that could have been anything—gas, indigestion, nerves. “It’s too early.”

  “Today’s eighteen weeks. It could be any day now.”

  Belle’s jaw unhinged. He was keeping track? For a moment, she pictured Donner back at Braddax Castle, poring over paternity books and tracking her symptoms based on whatever bits of information he could scrounge up. She imagined piles of pregnancy articles covering his stiff leather furniture, displacing his precious imported decanters, and cluttering the cold, gloomy corridors that still gave her nightmares.

  For a moment, she felt guilty about taking this experience away from him. She had no doubt he always wanted a child. He always wanted to be a father, having lost his—for better or for worse—at such a young age. But … no.

  She couldn’t think like that. Wanting something and deserving it were two very different things. If only he’d been more patient with her ovaries. If only he’d had more faith in their marriage. If only he hadn’t tried to trade her in for a sadistic harlot who’d tortured Belle for the entirety of her childhood. Maybe then they could be marking the milestones together rather than sharing awkward moments every four weeks at Marestam General.

  “Donner, I’ve had a very long day. Between this and the party and Ruby’s crazy—”

  “Ruby? What about Ruby?” He sprung up from the bed. His face lit up. “She thinks you’re making a mistake, doesn’t she? She still thinks we should make up.” He took three long strides and stood inches away from her, his black eyes wildly panning hers.

  Belle clenched her towel with one hand and her shoulder with the other. She was suddenly aware of how small and frail she was next to him, even with her bloated feet and expanding stomach. He was muscular, imposing, and still—whether she liked it or not—obscenely handsome in that dark and tortured way.

  “I made a mistake, Belle. I made lots of mistakes. And I’m done making excuses for them, but that doesn’t mean we should throw everything we had away. If Ruby believes we should be together, then maybe we should listen.”

  Belle swallowed a laugh. Since when did he care what a middle-aged fairy said—pureblood or not? Pride had been his downfall for far longer than she’d been in the picture. It was the reason he’d sought out her sister’s bed. It was the reason Parliament contacted her when they needed something from the realm’s northernmost kingdom. Heck, it was the reason a fairy cursed him in the first place—because he was too vain to let a homely old woman in from the rain.

  “Somewhere along the line, we lost each other,” he continued. “We both changed—not just me. But I don’t want to be who I’ve become anymore.”

  Somewhere along th
e line? Belle zeroed in on these four words. She could have exploded, but she didn’t want to go down this road again. She didn’t want to waste her breath. He could just say his piece and leave. He’d pulled this act once before—jumping into her cab when she was most vulnerable, sobbing into her lap, swearing he’d changed and begging her to come home. It had taken less than twenty-four hours for her to realize his intended “change” simply meant he wouldn’t have sex outside their marriage. Everything else—his domineering attitude, his pretentious rules, his absurd expectation that she dress like a seventeenth century relic in order to prove she belonged on a throne—was a nonnegotiable part of the package.

  “I’ve been spiraling without you, Belle. I’ve been…” He trailed off, sunk a bit deeper into himself, and scratched violently at his arms. “I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. Even the thought of sunshine makes me want to grab a kitten by the neck and twist.” Belle screwed her mouth up but kept it closed. The water from her hair was making her towel heavy, but her huge, wonderfully unflattering bathrobe was in the closet … all the way on the other side of the room. And she felt safer staying in one place. “It’s like I’m not responsible for my own actions anymore. The other day I fired half the staff and I wouldn’t be surprised if—”

  “You what?” The words leapt in her head. She couldn’t imagine Donner functioning without one man to tie his shoes and another to fill his whiskey glass. “What would possess you to do that?”

  She felt another poke in her belly. This time it was undeniable. She looked at Donner immediately, but he was too preoccupied with his own self-pity to notice her reaction. Thank goodness. The last thing she needed was some baby’s-first-kick bonding with the estranged husband who’d just broken into her bedroom. Still, she gave her bump a reassuring rub and tried—via telepathy—to tell the little one that she was right there. Mommy was right there. And she had no intention of ever leaving.