The current Marquis of Frederique was a respected businessman, and a trusted ally of the Emperor. As a feudal lord who held a trusted position in the borderlands, he focused on providing warning of military incursions and oversaw cross-border trade.
"How did you grow up to be so troublesome?" the Marquis muttered. He looked at his son softly, his forehead furrowed with lines. "Most importantly, though, you should be engaged. I have seen Lady Lynette in portraits—she is quite the beauty."
Laikin stood across the desk from him, slammed his hand down on it. "Break the engagement agreement," he said coldly. His blue eyes flickered dangerously. "I will not marry that woman."
After looking at him for a while, the Marquis clicked his tongue in wonder. Laikin's hair was windblown and wild, and his clothes were dirty. His son spent fourteen hours straight on horseback from the capital.
"Arranged marriages are normal, Laikin," he finally said. "Did you truly need to ride fourteen hours straight just to throw a tantrum?"
"You're not listening to me," Laikin continued shouting. He slammed his fist down again on the desk, punctuating each word. "I. Said. No."
"Laikin James de Frederique, you will marry Lady Lynette and that is final."
He gritted his teeth together and ground out, "I hate you." Without a word, stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
He couldn't take it. He couldn't have thought it more annoying. With everyone against him, he had no choice but to obey. But he wouldn't let it end this way. Lynette de Ruenz, an abominable socialite who clearly despised his beloved Dylan. There was no doubt in his mind, he wanted her gone, he wanted her never to go near him.
"Lord Laikin, will we be staying?" a servant asked him.
"Shut up," he deadpanned. "Everyone's so fucking noisy."
The servant paled a bit, but managed not to flinch outright. He knew what his master's true personality was like.
Laikin tensed his neck and tried to steady his breathing. At times like these it was hard for him to keep up his facade of innocence. He had to get rid of her. He had to get rid of that pest.
"Prepare to depart immediately," he said. He buried his face in his hands, and then rubbed his hands through his hair in frustration. "We must reach the capital before sundown. Only a member of the Assassins Guild could pull this off."
The servant bowed a final time, and scurried off to prepare the horses.
'Just how far do I have to go for you to finally look at me, Dylan? How can I tie you to me?'
***
"Milady, are you even listening to me?" Jessie scolded. She stomped her feet in frustration as they walked. "How are you not ashamed of your choices?"
Ever since she had arrived in the morning, Jessie had been scolding her about her impulsive actions. Dylan found it rather humorous as her words went in one ear and out the other. But Dylan really couldn't focus. All her attention was focused on—
Cadence flashed her a charming smile, and she noticed again how handsome he was. She turned her head away and went quickly past him towards the dining room. As hard as she tried, she couldn't stop staring at him.
'I've been having weird thoughts ever since that dream last night.'
It was the most realistic dream she had ever had. She touched her lips, remembering the way her body shivered while he kissed her in her dream. How hot it made her. Would it feel the same way in real life?
As she was about to enter the dining room, she turned around once more to look at him for the last time. Their eyes met, then his darted down to the floor.
"Milady," Jessie sighed. Then she pushed her gently forwards through the doors. "A proper lady is never tardy."
'I wish Jessie was the one who didn't have a tongue.'
When Dylan walked into the dining room, her eyes searched faces and landed on a familiar one. An anomaly. Someone who should've been dealt with a long time ago.
"Sir Pennel," she greeted him, adding in a curtsy for good measure. "What brings you here?"
"Ah, Dylan." The Marchioness smiled at her warmly. "You know this kind sir? He came by today to deliver some gifts from His Majesty, and to wish my father-in-law good health on His Majesty's behalf. Isn't that just lovely?"
Sitting down, she clenched her fists and looked at him. "Yes," she said coldly. "Lovely."
"It's nice to see you again, Lady Dylan." He leaned back against his seat and smirked. "Congratulations on being appointed as heir presumptive."
Dylan swallowed nervously. "Yes, thank you."
'What is he doing here?'
The Marchioness smiled. "I called you here hoping you would join us for lunch. I'm so glad you decided to come down."
Sir Pennel lifted his glass to his lips. "Lady Dylan gets far more beautiful each time I see her," he said. He drank slowly with his mischievous eyes on her all the time, watching her reaction. "It makes me wish I brought her a gift as well."
"Yes, yes," the Marchioness said, nodding her head in agreement. "She is as lovely as they say a young lady can be at her age. She's sixteen, still quite young for someone your age."
Sir Pennel chuckled. "Yes, but I couldn't help myself, madam. In fact, I'd like to give Lady Dylan something."
"I beg your pardon?" Dylan's silverware slipped from her hands and hit her plate with a clank. "That's really not necessary, Sir Pennel."
'I don't want anything from you.'
He leaned across the table toward her, a wicked grin playing across his face as he slid over a small box. "Please do open it. I insist."
Hesitantly she picked up the box and slipped off the ribbon. Her fingers felt unusually clumsy as she peeled away the paper. "What the..." Dylan caught her breath.
It was a golden queen chess piece.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Here's a sneak peak at another villainess story that I will be releasing this weekend on my website and Wattpad <3
Amarissa leaned toward him, until the flats of their foreheads were touching and they stared into each other's eyes. Lucian stiffened suddenly and his eyes widened.
She truly had never seen such beautiful eyes before, on a man or a woman. The way his irises were the palest grey-blue, the way the pupils dilated as he looked at her. Now she finally understood why she had been so obsessed with this man.
"You want me, don't you?" she asked, bemused. She heard his breath hitch. "And you hate yourself for it."
His gaze fell to her lips before slowly rising back to her eyes. "A very vile joke, my lady," Lucian said in a low voice. "Are you trying to prove that you can rub me the wrong way? Pity no one could ever love such a wicked thing as you."
"Works for me," she muttered. A small smile tugged the corner of her lips. "But why does Your Grace follow me to such places? It's almost as if you're obsessed with me."
Amarissa skimmed her thumb along his bottom lip. It was such an intimate gesture—one that made him swallow hard. They were so close that she could see his uneven breathing, and the slightly darker flecks in the clear grey-blue of his eyes.
"I trailed you to monitor your actions." His lips were so close they almost brushed hers when he spoke. "You are my fiance regardless of the nature of our relationship."
"Your Grace is mistaken." Placing a palm on his chest, creating space between them, she said, "I convinced my father to break the engagement agreement."
Duke Elrod's eyes flickered dangerously. "Who said you could do that?"