His frown deepened.
“And is he eligible to become one of your suitors?”
“Certainly not!” Rissa exclaimed. “Well, that is, he does probably have enough Royal blood in his veins,” she backpedaled. “But I don’t think the Steward would seriously consider him.” She lowered her voice. “He has a dreadful reputation.”
“In what way?” James asked. “I thought it was only females who were concerned with their reputations on your planet.”
“Well, a female reputation is much more easily sullied and ruined,” Rissa told him. “But there are some things that can sully a male reputation as well.”
“What things?” James asked. “What has he done to, er, sully his reputation?”
Rissa’s cheeks got hot and she looked around the room, trying to make certain no one was listening to them.
“The…the maids will not go to his room at night,” she murmured.
The big Kindred raised his eyebrows.
“Why not?”
“Is it not obvious? Because he tries to…to kiss them. On the mouth,” Rissa hissed. “And you know what that leads to!”
She could feel her cheeks getting even hotter. She could not believe she was discussing such things—especially with a man. But then she reminded herself again that James was just a kind of robot and he was only trying to understand the customs of her planet. Still, it was quite embarrassing to be saying such things aloud.
The big Kindred’s frown deepened.
“So…he has tried to force his attentions on unwilling females?”
“That is the rumor, yes.” Rissa nodded.
James’s face was like a thundercloud now.
“Then you’re never dancing with him again!” he growled. “I won’t have such a male anywhere near you, Princess!”
“Oh, he would never try such a thing with me!” Rissa protested, shocked at the idea.
She had a fleeting moment of unease, as she thought of Prunella, but then she pushed it aside. Prunella had not been heir to the throne of all of Regalia Five. Duke Grabbington would certainly not dare to try kissing Rissa, the way he doubtless had the other poor girl.
“Such males will try anything they think they can get away with.” James’s face was dark with what appeared to be anger and disgust—though he wasn’t supposed to have any emotions. “I don’t want him anywhere near you,” he went on, frowning at Rissa.
“I can hardly help being near him if I have to dance with him,” she pointed out. “And anyway, he can’t try anything on the dance floor.”
“He was holding you much too tightly and making you uncomfortable,” James pointed out. “What makes you think he won’t try something worse if you dance with him again?”
“Because we’re in public!” Rissa exclaimed, nodding around the room. “Just look at this—the entire Court is nothing but a rumor mill. He cannot do anything to me with so many people watching.” She sighed as she spotted the approaching figure of the Duke. “Speaking of which, here he comes again. I suppose he thinks I have had enough time to cool down and now chooses to demand I dance with him again.”
“The Seven Hells he will.” The look on the big Kindred’s face was positively dangerous. He rose to his full height and took Rissa by the hand. Pulling her close to his side, he put an arm around her shoulders possessively and glared at the approaching Duke.
For a moment, she wished she could melt into his side and press her face to his broad, muscular chest, but that was absolutely impossible.
“Sir James, no!” she exclaimed, shrugging off his arm and taking a step away to put a proper distance between them. “You must not touch me so—it is most improper.”
He frowned.
“I’m trying to protect you—to show the Duke that you’re m…” He trailed off for a moment, frowning. “That you’re not free to dance,” he finished at last.
Rissa wondered what he had been going to say, but at that moment, Duke Grabbington arrived. He made another sweeping bow and said, with a smirk on his moist red lips,
“My dear Princess, you appear much refreshed—no longer overheated at all. I trust I may engage you for the next dance or three?”
Rissa’s heart sank but she opened her mouth to agree politely—after all, what else could she do? But before she could speak, James said,
“I think not. The Princess will be dancing with me for the next dance.”
“What?” Rissa stared up at him but he was already sweeping her onto the dance floor. “I thought you said you cannot dance!” she protested as he moved her into position and the music began.
“I couldn’t before the ball,” he said shortly. “But while watching you earlier, I analyzed the dance patterns. They’re not difficult to copy.”
Indeed, he was doing an excellent job, moving her expertly around the floor, not missing a step. He was remarkably light on his feet for such a large man, she thought.
Rissa danced automatically herself—she had been taking lessons from the age of two and could have done any of the popular dances in her sleep. But she couldn’t believe that the big Kindred had learned so quickly, just from watching!
“Is it because you’re a robot that you can learn just by watching?” she asked, as he twirled her and then brought her in close to his broad chest.
“The implants and enhancements in my brain certainly play a part in my rapid acquisition of knowledge,” he agreed equably. He frowned down at her. “But…am I breaking a social custom, as I did when I drew you close to my side? Should I not be dancing with you?”
“Well…It’s not usual for a girl’s chaperone and Constant Companion to dance with her,” Rissa said hesitantly. “But then again, most chaperones are older ladies like Lady Mildew—not, er, robots. Or cyborgs, excuse me. And I do not believe there is any social law actually forbidding me to dance with my Companion.”
“Good,” James said shortly. “Because I intend to dance with you the rest of the ball. That will keep the Duke away from you.”
“Oh, you cannot do that!” Rissa exclaimed. “It would be most improper for you to monopolize me in that way all evening.”
He frowned.
“Fine. Then I will be sure to end this dance across the ballroom from wherever the Duke is and you can take another partner there. One who will not attempt to molest you,” he added, frowning like a thundercloud. “When you are finished with that dance, I will dance with you again and make certain you end up away from the Duke long enough to choose another non-threatening partner.”
“But I don’t choose my partners—the man must ask the lady to dance,” Rissa objected.
“Then if no one asks you, I will dance with you whether it is proper or not,” he said, frowning. “But under no circumstances will you dance with the Duke again!”
He seemed so certain that Rissa hardly dared to contradict him. And besides, she really didn’t like the idea of dancing anymore dances with Lord Grabbington anyway. James’s plan seemed like a good one. If it worked, she would dance every other dance with her new bodyguard and all the other dances would be with inoffensive partners, keeping her far from the sticky fingers of the Duke.
“Very well,” she said. “We shall do as you say—though I am afraid it may cause some talk among the Court.”
“I don’t care what people say as long as you’re safe, Princess,” James said, frowning.
It was the second time he’d said such a thing and Rissa couldn’t help thinking how very refreshing it was to hear such sentiments from her new Constant Companion. All her life she’d been in the public eye, groomed to appear the perfect Princess in every way.
Even when she got overheated, ill, or mentally stressed, she was still expected to keep on dancing, keep smiling, keep on keeping up appearances. How many times had Lady Mildew harangued her into “doing her Royal Duty,” even when she felt bad?
But now James was saying the exact opposite—that she must put her own health and well-being before the all-importan
t appearance of propriety.
He is saying that I as a person am more important than my Royal image, Rissa thought. The idea was both novel and refreshing and she liked her new bodyguard for expressing it.
In fact, she liked him for more than his unique ideas, she had to admit. The big Kindred was so strong and tall and when he held her close to dance, she smelled his cologne—a clean, icy scent that reminded her of winter winds whipping through tall, craggy mountains.
His scent was very different from the thick, oily fragrances used by most of the Court. The men’s scents, especially, could be peppery and musky and overpowering—they often made Rissa sneeze. And of course, the big Kindred’s cologne was infinitely preferable to Duke Grabbington’s miasma of alcohol and smoke.
Before her thoughts could carry her too far, though, Rissa realized that she was being ridiculous. The big Kindred might be tall and handsome, but he was still just a robot—or rather, a cyborg, as he had called himself. He had said several times that he had no emotions—that was the very reason he had been chosen as her chaperone and Constant Companion.
I must not let any foolish thoughts come into my head about him, she lectured herself sternly, as he spun her effortlessly around the dance floor. He is my only my guard and it is just for a little while, until I find a husband and ascend to the throne.
So she told herself as they put James’s plan into action. She danced every other dance with an inoffensive partner and every other dance with James, who always contrived to set her down somewhere away from the Duke, so that another man had the chance to lead her to the dance floor before Grabbington could get anywhere near her.
Once or twice, Rissa caught a glimpse of his face in the crowd—it grew redder and angrier as the night wore on. His dark scowl made her uneasy and she wondered if maybe she ought to dance at least once more with him before the ball was over. But somehow, she never seemed to get around to it and before she knew it, the ball was over and everyone was saying their goodnights and filing out of the Grand Ballroom.
“Well, I suppose that’s done,” Rissa remarked. She had to admit that besides her one dance with the Duke, this had been the most enjoyable ball she could remember. And that was certainly because of her new Companion, who had proved to be such an excellent dancer.
“Is it?” James was still watching alertly as people filed out. “Come, Princess—I don’t want you out in the open during this confusion,” he added, before she could answer.
And taking her by the arm, he led her out of the ballroom—or attempted to, anyway. For just as they reached the archway that led toward the wing of the palace that housed the Royal apartments, Lady Mildew was suddenly blocking their path.
9
“Lady Mildew,” Rissa said blankly. “Er, how do you do?”
“I do very poorly, my girl,” the older woman snapped. “Very poorly indeed, when I see you making a spectacle of yourself out on the dance floor all night, ignoring everything I’ve ever taught you!”
“I beg your pardon,” Rissa said icily. “I have not the pleasure of understanding you. I was simply dancing, which you have often told me is my Royal duty.”
“You danced almost all the dances with that…that new Companion of yours!” Lady Mildew motioned derisively at James, who was standing at Rissa’s side.
“No, she danced exactly half of them with me,” James corrected her mildly. “Unless you count the first two dances, in which case, she danced four-tenths of the dances with me. Or two-fifths—whichever you prefer,” he added.
Lady Mildew glared up at him.
“I know your game, you blackguard! You just want to get the Princess alone and do improper and immoral things to her!”
“I have told you before, I have no sexual desire for the Princess, no matter how aesthetically pleasing she is,” James replied blandly. “I have no emotions and no sexual urges—I am a Dark Kindred.”
“You say that now, but I’m sure you can’t wait to get her undressed and see her naked in her bath!” Lady Mildew accused him.
“Lady Mildew!” Rissa was horrified by the older woman’s words. “How dare you accuse Sir James of such impropriety? Of course he will help me to undress and bathe me—he is my Constant Companion now. But it will be the same as if…as if one of those shiny, silver butler droids was helping me!”
“It will not,” Lady Mildew said stoutly, still glaring at James. “For none of them has male parts between their legs!”
By now Rissa’s face was so red and hot with embarrassment, she wished the grey marble dance floor would open and let her sink into it. How could her old Companion and chaperone act in this manner and say such humiliating things in front of her new guard? How could she be so horrid?
“You’re only being angry and spiteful because Sir James has replaced you!” she snapped at the older woman. “I refuse to hear any more of this nonsense. Sir, James, please be kind enough to take me to my apartments,” she added, turning to him.
“With pleasure, Princess,” the big Kindred rumbled, holding out an arm to her.
But Lady Mildew wasn’t to be put off so easily.
“You just remember that I still hold the remote to your Chastity Wire, my girl” she snarled at Rissa. “The Steward allowed me to retain at least that much control! So don’t get too comfortable together. I shall be in later to remove it for your bath and then I shall put it right back on again!”
Rissa’s heart sank. Would she never be completely rid of the controlling old bat? But she refused to show her disappointment and anger.
“Very well,” she said frostily. “I shall expect your knock at my door, Lady Mildew. Until then, I am tired and wish to retire to my rooms. I bid you good evening.”
She dropped a chilly little curtsy to the other woman and swept away down the hall on James’s arm, without a single backward glance.
10
Rissa wanted to go straight into her apartments and relax. She was longing to take off the heavy brocade gown, her tightly cinched corset, and the towering wig. It was giving her a terrible headache in her temples due to the tightness of the skull cap and the pins digging into her scalp and pulling her natural hair.
But James would not allow it.
“Wait—let me go in first and make sure everything is secure,” he growled protectively, just as Rissa was reaching for the doorknob.
She thought of protesting, but then she remembered the attack in the library and nodded.
“Very well. I shall wait here.”
“It won’t take long to check,” he promised. Opening the door to her rooms, he looked inside and inhaled deeply.
Rissa watched with interest. The big Kindred reminded her of a hound scenting the air.
James sniffed again and frowned, as though analyzing the odors he had picked up.
“I detect your scent and the scent of Lady Mildew,” he said to Rissa. “As well as the scent of another young female.”
“That will probably be Liza, the maid who tidies my rooms and makes the bed.”
James nodded.
“All right. Let me check the rooms just in case and then you may enter, Princess.”
He made a quick sweep of her Royal apartments and then returned with another nod.
“It’s safe. No one else has been here and I don’t smell any males at all.”
Rissa was amazed.
“Is your nose that sensitive, then?” she exclaimed, as she was finally allowed into her rooms. “Is that part of being a robot? Er…a cyborg?”
“No, it’s part of being a Kindred,” James said. “Our senses are much stronger and more finely tuned than most humanoids.”
“I see.” Rissa thought of how he’d described her own scent when she got overheated as “the smell of burning sugar.” “Bad smells must be almost overpowering for you, then,” she said. “If your senses are as strong as all that.”
He shrugged.
“I don’t usually characterize smells as ‘bad’ or ‘good’—though
I confess I find some scents more pleasant than others. Your scent, for instance, Princess, is certainly…intriguing.”
“Oh, er…” Rissa wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I like your cologne as well,” she ventured, thinking of the clean, cool mountain wind fragrance she smelled when she was dancing close to him.
He frowned briefly.
“I do not wear cologne. Come—show me what I need to do in order to help you. I have, er, never undressed a Princess before. Or any female, for that matter.”
Rissa started to say that she had also never been undressed by a man—but she managed to stop the improper words from coming to her lips just in time.
“This way,” she said instead, leading him to her dressing room. “I cannot wait to get this wig off—it’s positively crushing my temples!”
James helped her pull out the hairpins. Then he lifted the heavy, elaborate wig off her head and placed it carefully on a wig stand in a row with the others as she directed him.
Rissa sighed in relief as she stripped off the tight skull cap, letting her own long, bouncy curls fly free.
“Oh, it feels so good to get that heavy monstrosity off!” she sighed, running her fingers through her natural hair which fell like a curly, caramel waterfall over her shoulders and back.
Then she became aware that James was standing there behind her, staring at her as she sat at her dressing room table. She could see his eyes in the mirror, flashing blue as he studied her.
“Er…is something wrong, Sir James?” she asked hesitantly, looking up at him.
“No. Nothing is wrong. Only that your true hair is…well, it is very different from the false hair you’ve been wearing all night,” he said, frowning.
“Oh, do you prefer the wig, then?” Rissa put a hand to her natural curls, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
“No, absolutely not,” he said immediately. “Your true hair is much more aesthetically pleasing. It is…I suppose it is what humanoids call ‘beautiful.’”
He sounded thoughtful, as though he had never considered anyone’s hair beautiful before. Coming forward, he lifted one of her curls and ran it through his fingers gently. His light touch sent shivers down Rissa’s back and she could feel her points growing hotter for some reason.
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