Heaven And Hell novel Chapter 56

"Tessie...come on," I urged, clapping my hands. "You come to me right now!"

She only blinked at me and looked away as if she couldn't deal being my ride right now.

Oh, my God. Even my own borrowed horse hated me.

What was up with me and animals? My grandfather had loved them and they'd loved him back, so why couldn't they treat me the same way? This was so depressing.

Michael chuckled as he saw my face scrunching into an unreadable expression. "You're supposed to be the one coming to her. Hop on like Emerson did."

I snorted. "I knew that. I was just merely testing her," I said airily. "I'm not a jockey or an equestrian or whatever."

His lips twitched at the corners. Emerson watched our little scene with fascination.

"Yeah I can see that," Michael commented, staring at me and an ignorant Tessie. Stupid horse. "Although..." His gaze roved up and down my form. I felt myself blush to the tips of my ears. "You look very lovely in that little outfit Em helped you wear. Brings out your long legs."

"Whatever," I mumbled, crossing my arms.

He patted Emerson's arm affectionately. "Job well done bringing that air of sexiness in Keller, little sis."

"Well," she said cheerily, obviously flattered, "I really am very good, aren't I? But when it comes to epic fashion, Kimberly's the -- hey!" she suddenly yelled, glaring at Michael. "I am not your little sister!"

"Oh?"

"Yes," she bit off.

"How so?"

"I was late by three minutes, you bloody idiot," she snapped. "Three minutes!"

Michael assessed her, smirking. "Nope, twinny," he finally said. "Don't see anything different. Three minutes late entering the world out of Mum's womanhood still makes you younger than me, who came three minutes earlier than you. Ha."

"I'm mortified you even used the word 'womanhood,'" I interjected, making a face.

"That's it! Enough!" Emerson ground out. "Let's just start the bloody game." She looked so annoyed, I couldn't blame her. I even empathised with her.

She glared at me, telling me to get on the horse and ride already. Michael poked her calf with his boot. "WHAT?" she exploded.

Emerson's brother fluttered his long, black spiky lashes, pursing his lips in a cute smile. His eyes creased in a semi-squint as he smiled like an adorable little boy.

Despite herself, she giggled and shook her head. "I hate you when you do that. It always works on anyone."

"Except Grandmama," he supplied smartly.

"Right."

Michael eyed me. "And Keller." When I didn't answer, he winked at me. "Care for a little challenge, love? Racing will do you good."

I shrugged. "Not really."

"Wuss."

I ignored him.

"Oh come now, Keller," Emerson said cheerfully. "Go on and ride Tessie!"

I snorted. "Tessie, your horse, and Michael's hate me."

"A pity," Michael said sympathetically, frowning. He didn't look sad, actually.

"If you accept the challenge," she offered, "I will give you a sweet. Sees? Toblerone? Fererro Rocher? M&M's? Tell me!"

"What am I?" I bit off, crossing my arms and perching my hip. "A child?"

I stared at the two of them, suddenly perking up. "What's in Glasgow?"

"A pub called The Bon Accord in the north," Michael answered in amusement, ignoring Emerson's death stare. "Funny story, but we went there last year and Em here --"

"Shut up." Emerson wasn't amused. I was about to ask questions when she turned her glare my way.

"But --"

"No. Don't ask!"

"And then," Michael continued, still paying no heed to his fuming sister, "she drank one two many ales and did a jig while she sang a bonny tune to everyone, most especially to this particular bloke she fancied! She threw up on a random man's bowler hat after that smashing performance and still managed to ask for the man of her dream's mobile number." His cheeks puffed out. "Then she threw up again, this time on the poor sod's shoes, and she never called him, ever."

I laughed so hard, I thought I'd fall over my horse, which I was sure Emerson was praying for. Michael grinned at my enjoyment while his sister gritted her teeth.

"I can't believe you," she bit off, crossing her arms, crop in one hand. "That's no longer your bet, then. Happy?"

"Yeah. Now that that's out in the open," Michael said, "I want you to give Richard Wesley a long and lingering kiss when you see him at the ball."

"Bollocks, that. Think again."

"A long and lingering hug, then?"

"Fine," she grumbled, but couldn't help but add, "but you'll lose. You'll see."

She suddenly reminded me of her grandmother. I stifled a shiver.

"Oh," her brother said wickedly, "but you won't. It's my bet and I'm positive Richard'll enjoy the hug. I'm sure he looks better now than he was before and misses you, not to worry! Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say."

Emerson only grumbled.

"I will make you sorry for this. But fine, I take the bet. If you win, I'll hug the blasted boy. But when I win -- this, I change my mind -- you will do anything within your power to persuade Grandmama not to let me marry Richard bloody Wesley. Got it?"