Chapter 9

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"Julia wait!" Michael hollered, but she ran in. He waited outside like an idiot for a while though. He didn't know how long he stood there, staring after her, willing her to come back.

Why? He didn't know.

When Michael returned home that night, he was in a daze.

He didn't know what had prompted him to act the way he had and neither did he know how to deal with the situation. And that rarely happened to him. He was a practical man and dealt with things practically. Under ordinary circumstances, he would've just apologised to Julia and forgotten about the incident.

The issue was that this didn't seem easily forgettable to him.

He had kissed Julia out of anger. He'd kissed her to prove a point, to teach her a lesson. Michael hadn't counted on the effect that kiss would have on him.

It wasn't that she was a skilled kisser—far from it. And there was hardly any romance in the movement. But he didn't remember a time when a mere kiss had made him feel so alive.

Yes, that was it.

Julia Andrews made him feel alive. She kept him on his toes. He could never guess what she'd do next and that annoyed him.

There were very few people who had the power to annoy him—or move him in any way. The fact that Julia did, troubled him.

When he entered the main hall, he saw Poppy charging at him with all the grace of an raging bull.

Hell and damnation.

"You took her home?" she shouted.

"Yes."

"Why? People are talking and—"

"I took her home because she was making a spectacle of herself," Michael cut her off, feeling the anger returning.

Poppy seemed stunned and her mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"You have no right," she finally said.

"She doesn't have the right to ruin her reputation either. It won't just effect her, it will effect everyone associated with her. And that my dear sister, I cannot allow."

Poppy sighed wearily and sat down on the nearby settee. She covered her face with her hands and her shoulders sagged.

Michael didn't recall the last time he'd seen his sister look so troubled. He walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, don't you?" he said gently.

She nodded slowly.

"Poppy," he prompted.

"I have never hidden anything from you, Michael. I even told you when Lord Winters tried to kiss me," she smiled tentatively.

"Yes and I recall pummelling him for that," Michael frowned at the memory.

"You are such a hypocrite," Poppy laughed.

"I have never kissed an unmarried young Lady," Michael said pompously. And then he remembered that he had kissed Julia just a while back. He practically sagged. He was a hypocrite. But he wasn't about to admit as much to his sister.

"Anyhow, what is this leading to?" He asked.

"To the fact that while I've never hidden anything from you, this is something I cannot speak of."

When Michael began to speak, she cut him off.

"This isn't my secret to share, Michael," she said hastily.

He was silent for a few moments.

"I will not badger you anymore then," he finally said.

"You will badger Julia in my stead," Poppy guessed correctly.

"I just want to help her," he defended himself.

"She doesn't need your help, Michael. You're doing the opposite of helping her," Poppy sighed.

"Is she in some kind of trouble?"

Poppy seemed thoughtful but answered in the negative.

"Then I shall leave her be," he lied. But his sister grinned and hugged him. Michael patted her back and bid her a good night.

"Good night, Michael. Sleep well," she said and dashed off.

In spite of Poppy willing it, Michael did not sleep well that night. In fact, he didn't sleep at all. He had mixed feelings about Julia now. One part of him was guilty because he felt like he'd taken advantage of her. Another part was still furious with her for the way she was jeopardising her reputation.

And there was another dangerous feeling that he couldn't let go of—intrigue.

He didn't want to be intrigued by Julia Andrews, damnit. It had the makings of trouble written all over it. He was ashamed to acknowledge the fact that he wanted to kiss her again. Properly. Just once.

Frustrated, Michael kicked off the sheets with his legs and got out of his bed. He drew aside the blinds and saw that it was barely dawn. He didn't usually awaken so early but it seemed like he wasn't going to get any sleep just then. So he quickly dressed. He left the waist coat unbuttoned and didn't wear a coat.

The guests were all sleeping so hardly anybody was going to see him in the state of undress.

Michael silently made his way to the stables. He dismissed the sleepy stable lad who came to ready the horse and said he'd do it himself.

Hades, his horse neighed happily upon seeing him.

"How about we go on a ride now, hmm boy?" Michael murmured and stroked Hades' shiny black coat.

The horse lipped at his hair.

Michael smiled and saddled him. "And off we go."

Once they were out of the stables, Michael lead him till the periphery of the estate in a slow canter. But after that he bent low and murmured in Hades' ear, "you can run as fast as you like today." He eased the reins.

The horse needed no further encouragement.

The Adlington estate was somewhat elliptical in shape. Michael rode along the border and checked the condition of the cottages and farms on his way. They seemed to be fine. But he made a mental note to visit the tenants in a day or two.

Hades seemed to be enjoying the ride just as much as he was. When they reached the border of Earl Howard's estate through the woods, Michael hesitated.

But then he lead Hades into the woods anyway.

"It isn't as if Miss Andrews is going to be up at this ungodly hour. And even if she was, she wouldn't be prancing about in the woods, would she?" He reasoned with his horse. Unsurprisingly, Hades didn't deign to reply.

When they neared the large pond, Michael slowed Hades and thought of taking him there for some rest and a drink.

As he drew closer, her heard the sounds of water splashing. His steps turned cautious. He didn't want to startle anyone if someone was indeed there.

Finally the pond came into view and Michael stopped in his tracks.

This had to be some sort of joke the almighty was playing on him.

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