A/N: Hey, guys! Before you read, I would love it all if you could vote for Wickedly Yours for best kissing scene (book) in the Reader's Choice Awards. Link provided as inline comment. Please read rules and vote accordingly! You can vote multiple times ;). Otherwise, enjoy!

The brush caressed her curls, soft strokes that unfortunately did not soothe her nerves as she drew it through her curtain of black. Sophia couldn't help but to shiver as the hands of the large, grandfather clock slowly inched towards the twelve that was engraved on its surface. Every second seemed to draw out, like a breath that refused to come.

Colette and Sophia had moved her small trunk to the gates and hidden it behind some shrubbery as soon as Sophia returned from Blake's home. It had a couple dresses and accompanying undergarments and basic essentials, hidden in the corner of the front lawns, behind a wild berry bush.

Suddenly, Sophia felt sick and the overwhelming urge to throw up clogged her throat. But she pushed it down. Her excitement was getting the best of her, and the little child that now grew in her womb seemed to be flying up and down in enthusiasm. She could not afford to puke now and take rest, bestridden and too tired to comply with eloping. She had an adventure set out for her.

An adventure. What she had always dreamed of.

Sophia couldn't help but have small, hiccupping pass out of her mouth, and she bit her lips to stop it from turning into a raucous loud laughter. Stealth was the key now, so she could escape undetected. When the hands of the clock inched toward midnight, Sophia's heart started to thump frantically in her chest.

She grasped a cloak that was made of satin, old and worn and a size too small for her, but it covered enough of her to be passable. She slipped out the back door and crept to the front of her house.

Th night was a pool on ink. No stars littered the sky, and the moon was just a tiny sliver, barely providing any light. Sophia fumbled around and eventually reached a place in front of her keep where a few gas street lamps decorated the paved streets.

Dragging her chest from the shrubbery, she placed it next to her on the ground, the cool metal pressing onto her skin. A cool wind whipped through the air, jostling her hair and slapping it across her face and pushing into her mouth. Sophia spat it out, coughing at the bitter taste of it. Her arms came alive as goosebumps scattered it. The wait was agonizing.

When would Blake's carriage appear?

Suddenly, she heard a rustle behind her and she whipped around, her heart scrambling up her throat and getting lodge there. Someone had found her! Sweat trickled down her brow as a figure made their way to her, and some dew also dampened her back, making the corset cling to her skin.

Sophia slightly inched away from the ambling figure, scrambling backward slowly, wary of this stranger who had stumbled upon her in this moment of rebel behavior.

But when the blond hair came into view from under the cloak, Sophia breathed a sigh of relief. Colette. Her blond light looked white in the moonlight and her eyes glowed like two brilliant blue orbs. Sophia stopped gawking at her and bit her tongue in annoyance.

Colette wasn't supposed to still be here!

"Colette, you are not meant to be here! Once we finished packing, you, Jeanne and Jeffrey were supposed to go to our grandparents in the country, and stay there for a week or so until I got back!"

"I know, I know I am sorry! But I had to say my farewell!"

"Colette, Father will suspect you of helping me elope if you are here. I am already defying him as it is. You stupid girl! You ought to listen to your sister!' Sophia slightly smacked Colette's head and Colette bowed her head, ashamed.

"I am sorry. I truly am! I had to see you know you were safe, wherever you were traveling!" Colette cried before a slightly manipulative glint sparkled in her eyes. Coyly she asked, "But where are you going, sister? To get married."

Sophia frowned. ". I am going to Scotland. That's all you need to know. The rest...I don't see why it is your concern." Sophia did not understand why she sidestepped giver her answer. This was her sister.

But after all the betrayals Colette put her through, her mind urged her to proceed with caution.
"Such distrust, Sophia?"

"I still don't believe you jealousy has healed."

"I assure you, it has." Colette cried, and then slightly brightened as another tactic to coax an answer out of her sister, sprung to her mind. "I presume you are going to Gretna Green?"

Sophia hesitated a moment before answering truthfully. It seemed as if Colette was fine now, though an unusually feeling still stirred in her stomach. "Yes. That is where we can get married the fastest. And Blake has an old friend in the country, an old family friend or rather priest. He would bind our marriage."

"I see. Which church?" Colette's eyes glittered up at her, wide and innocent.
"I don't see why that information is important-"Sophia's answer was cut off when she spotted a carriage trotting silently around a corner and heading towards her. She gasped in delight and excitement. The moment of the beginning of her adventure, her dreams had come!

Carriages, in general, made a lot of noise and so did the horses, but this was wrapped in the tendrils of silence and night. This just increased Sophia's anticipation.

"Goodbye, Colette. Leave tomorrow morning and take care of your siblings. I'll be back within two weeks at the latest," Sophia chastised right as the carriage slowed to a stop and a tall, broad frame popped out.

Blake.

He gave her a small smile and a tiny salute to Colette. "Sophia. Colette."

"Blake," Colette chirped back. Sophia just curled her lip into a small grin.

"Shall we go?" Blake whispered, hoisting Sophia's small clothing chest on his shoulders and unceremoniously dumping it into the carriage.
"Yes."

This was echoed by Colette's, "No."

The couple stared at her in surprise. What tricks did she hold up her sleeve now? "I... I just wanted to say that you deserve this. And don't deserve what is to come."

Sophia had brightened at her first line but her eyes glowed dangerously at the second. "What is to come? Colette, what are you talking about?"

Colette had barely even registered what she was saying. She hadn't even realized that those words had spilled out of from the recess of her mind to form into words.

Silently cursing in her mind, she tried to backtrack. "Nothing, nothing. I just meant the journey... that's all. A journey Scotland can be harrowing in your conditions, and the fear of thieves and brigands would not rest easily on your light, carefree souls. That is all."

Both Blake and Sophia looked unconvinced. Colette gave them a brilliant smile and shook her head, her blonde curls flying everywhere. "Forget I said anything. I was just being superstitious and depressing." She pulled Sophia into an embrace. "I wish I could be there in Gretna with you. Travel safely."

Colette knew her sister most likely wouldn't be caught unaware by brigands. Only by her own father, though Sophia didn't know that.

"I know, Colette. Farewell now." Before Sophia left, Colette pressed a small, embroidered handkerchief into Sophia's hand. "Keep it as a token that I am there with you."

Sophia nodded. "You really do like embroidery. What is it about that is so fascinating?"

"I could ask the same thing about books!"

Sophia grinned, her pearls gleaming in the minimal light. "Touché, sister. Like I never leave without a book, even on this journey, it seems you cannot part with your embroidery kit."

"It seems so. Goodbye, now!"

Sophia clambered into the carriage... or tried to. Her foot slipped on one of the steps, as its presence was hidden by shadows and its outline much too difficult to discern, but Blake caught her from behind. Both of them shared a lovestruck look and Colette's own heart panged. If only they knew what awaited them. If only the knew how short-lived their love would be.

The carriage trotted off, the darkness of the night tightening its claws around it till it disappeared into the gloom.

Colette slipped back into the shadows of her own home, her heart heavy with despair.

Father, they are going to Gretna Green to get married and will be back within the week. I do not know what church, but I am sure my lord can figure it out. If you were to ride out tomorrow morning, it would be ample time to stop them and do what your conscience urges you to do.

However, now that I am successful in doing my part, I shall cease to continue and wish for no harm to me, nor my siblings. I will, of course, keep my silence on this whole matter too. Thank you, Father.

-C

The Earl of Conway crushed the letter in between his fingertips. It did seem his daughter, despite her foolishness in the early stages of their plan, had managed to tie up all her loose ends and produce a favorable outcome. Of course, she would still be needed though she believed she wouldn't be so Her importance wasn't over with yet.

He thrust the letter up in the air, cackling with glee. He looked at the Duke of Cambury and his bastard who was frolicking with a brothel whore, where the three men were currently lodging. The couches were made of soft and satin and the room smelled of spiced lavender. It was one of the Earl's older establishments, before he had lost it in a losing deck to the Duke.

Darius snapped his head up from between the woman's breasts that were like cushions sat the Earl frantic movements while the Duke, who was sullenly sitting, unmoving, and just continued to stare at him. "My fellow men conspirators, your grace and Mr. Kent. It seems our plan was successful. Colette managed to get Blake to elope with Sophia. And made it in such a way, that they both believe they are going to get their happy ending and not suspect anything! Now we, or I, more especially I can do what is need to be done."

"Damn right." The Duke growled under his breath, his stormy grey eyes flickering with something that resembled a thirst for revenge.

Darius then chuckled, his protruding teeth nibbling his lips. "Well, she did it after all." His finger traced the woman's; chest and she giggled, echoing Darius, giggling to a point when it became irritable. When the Earl fixated a hot annoyed glare on her, she shut up, her face flushed red. With a quick nod of his head, she left, understanding she had been dismissed.

Darius pouted. "What was that for, my lord?"
"We need to discuss how we are going to do this. She doesn't need to hear it."

"We'll all go. Nothing to discuss. We will all part tomorrow morning." The Duke drawled out. "My Lord Conway. You are the only one who has a 'valid' reason for going after this man. I don't. But I till want to see the blood ooze from his body, the light to die from his eyes as retribution from what he took for me. My honor, my pride. My legacy."

Darius grunted his approval.

The Earl sharply nodded. It was decided then. The duke then produced a small handgun from the coat he wore and placed it on the table The Earl froze.

It was small and rimmed with gold. A handgun which had an excellent shooting range. The same gun his father had used to take his life.

His slightly drunken haze disappeared as the Earl peered at the sinister and cold looking gun. He let out a sharp exhale. He was immediately transported to the moment when he was fifteen.

His father had been pointing a gun, very much like this at him. Threatening to blow his head off for being the heir and not doing his duties and studying. He had played with his friends for far too long, he recalled.

And in a rage, too cowardly to kill his son, the former Earl of Conway had beaten his son up so badly, that out of guilt later that he killed his son with his physical blows, alcohol and a senile mind, he had shot himself.

The Earl could shake that image of his mind. The blood, the skin. The gun in front of him, an exact replica of his father's was an antique, something the Earl supposed he would never see again. But he did now. However, he was determined not to show the Duke and his son this weakness, and he quickly hid the shock behind a layer of cold professionality.

That event was a nightmare, but ever since then, he felt displaced, odd. Like someone else taking their life thrilled him. Even now, some dark reproachful part of him awed at the trajectory of his father's life. Awe that a life was lost, that he was the cause.

Which explained why he felt no reproach at killing a living, breathing man.

However, his father's suicide was not his kill to count. The Marquees would be though. Just thinking about that man brought a pungent rot to the Earl's heart and he shivered in disgust his shoulders hunching in revulsion.

Revulsion kept him all night or rather early morning, the idea of revenge that tempering in his heart. When a servant cameat dawn to announce that a carriage was waiting, ready to depart to Scotland, he could notice the shadows that hung like bags of black shadows under The Earl's red-rimmed eyes. Because the Earl did not sleep.

He would not sleep till that man lay at his feet. Dead. A corpse.

Which he soon would be.

A very dead corpse.

A/N: Hey guys! What do you all think of the story so far? Like it, Love it, Hate it?

I tried to give you all a little insight into the Earl's early life, the one event that transformed him for good, to perhaps have you sympathize with him or hate him even more for his vile thoughts! Let me know what you think!

And anyone else get the fairytale reference here ;)?

Also, please do check out a new book/ collection of stories I published! I would love your comments, reads, and votes on it! Link as an inline comment ;)!

Readers! Thank you for taking your time to read this chapter! Be sure to vote, comment and share it with others! Every single thing means the world to me! I love you all!