Burning for Love by Evangeline Anderson
26
Gentle Reader,
What an exciting time we are having at Court! All of the Lords and Ladies are wearing their natural hair and some intrepid ladies have even abandoned their corsets!
This daring new fashion has been advanced, of course, by our own dear Crown Princess Ka’rissa. Who would have thought that our shy little wallflower would blossom into such a lovely, bold rose? Might our dear Princess’s transition have to do with her new Companion, Sir Robot? Or is it simply that she is finally out from under the thumb of the contentious Lady Mildew?
Whatever the cause, this author can at least predict with great certainly that the happy change in our Princess has not been caused by her latest suitor, Duke Grabbington. Regular readers of this publication will recall that the Duke’s reputation is not the best or least tarnished at Court. Indeed, one is tempted to wonder what in the world His Stewardship was thinking when he named the Duke as a suitor for our soon-to-be Queen. For who would want a person of such questionable character upon the throne, even as only the Royal Consort? Not this author, Dear Reader—no indeed!
But never fear—it seems we will not have to suffer such an indignity after all. For somehow the Princess had managed to bring her Heat Cycle completely under control! No longer do her points shine bright and the smell of burning is completely absent from her lovely person. And since there is only one day left in Duke Grabbington’s courtship month, we may assume that the Princess will throw him over soon enough. Indeed, rumor has it that she cannot wait to turn him down. Might this author delicately suggest that His Stewardship take a little more thought before he names her next suitor? Royal blood is not enough to make an adequate ruler and the Princess needs a man who is both her own age and as serious about ruling our lovely planet as she is.
Keep following my Breadcrumbs to hear more as this volatile situation develops!
I remain your most humble and devout servant,
Lady TittleTattle
The latest issue of the Crumbs certainly had almost everything right, Rissa thought to herself as she whirled through the last dance of the evening with Duke Grabbington. She had been reading it with James before the ball that night and she was glad that the anonymous writer seemed to hold her in high esteem.
What would she think if she knew what you’ve been up to with James almost every night this past month? whispered a guilty little voice in her head. The way you’ve been touching your forbidden places and letting him touch them too, letting him make you “come”all the time…
Rissa pushed the guilty voice away with a bit of difficulty. But really, the things she and the big Kindred were doing were literally saving her life and keeping her from bursting into flames! She told herself firmly that she refused to feel bad or shameful for doing what was necessary to survive. Besides, James was right—it was her body and she should have the right to touch it any way she liked.
Ah, but it’s not just you who is touching your body, whispered that persistent little voice. You’re letting James touch you too in the place that only your husband is supposed to touch you! How can you justify that? Hmm?
On this score, Rissa had to admit, she was on rather shaky moral ground. But the fact was, she couldn’t seem to reach the pinnacle, or “orgasm” as James called it, before she overheated. So she had to turn to the big Kindred and ask him to help her finish, usually with his mechanical hand which buzzed and hummed so beautifully and always pushed her right over the edge almost at once.
Yes, but you don’t stop there, do you? the guilty voice asked. You don’t just come once a night. You let him use his hand on you to make you come three or four or more times each evening. Then you sleep naked, right up against him with his thigh between your legs and your points pressed to his side.
Well, that was true, Rissa acknowledged to herself, as she moved mechanically through the steps of the dance. She could not deny it. But though she herself was naked, the better to feel the contact with his big body, which he cooled every night just for her, James himself never removed his trousers. And Rissa was positive nothing bad could happen as long as there was no kissing and at least one of them kept their forbidden areas covered.
Though she had to confess, she was a bit curious as to what exactly was beneath those tight black leather trousers of his. Often, when he had been stroking her and sucking her points to help her come, a large bulge rose in his crotch, which led Rissa to wonder what was happening there.
This part of the male anatomy was, of course, as mysterious to her as her own forbidden area had once been. She had heard rumors from her friend Alyssa about a “one eyed snake” which men kept in their trousers. And sometimes she’d heard the maids giggling together when they were talking about men and saying “you mustn’t let his snake into your garden!”
But what all this meant, Rissa didn’t know. She had thought about asking James about it, but though she felt increasingly curious, she was also feeling increasingly guilty. She and her new guard were already doing enough forbidden things together—she didn’t need to add more illicit knowledge and naughty acts to the list.
The last dance was coming to an end and Rissa was vastly relieved. Every minute she had to spend in the Duke’s arms was a torment and a trial. Now that she had her Heat Cycle under control, he could no longer make her angry or upset enough to overheat—but it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. He talked of vile and offensive things constantly and it was difficult sometimes to drown him out, though Rissa did her best, returning his coarse speech with nothing but icy silence.
Still, tonight was the very last night, she reminded herself. Tomorrow was a day of rest with no balls or social functions and the next day she could go before the Steward in the throne room and formally reject Duke Grabbington’s suit. And then she would never have to dance or dine with the vile man again!
“So you think you’re shut of me after tonight, do you not, Princess?” he asked now, as they spun to a finish and everyone bowed to their partners. “You think that ball is over and that the day after tomorrow you can throw me over and reject my suit.”
Rissa inclined her head stiffly, a fraction of an inch—a bow meant to convey acknowledgement without saying anything.
“Yes, that is what you think, but we are not done yet!” the Duke exclaimed. Raising his voice he shouted, “Tell me—who has heard of the ‘Hide and Seek’ dance?”
People stopped bowing to their partners and froze, frowning at the Duke. It was unseemly to shout out in the middle of the ballroom and he was not in the best favor with the Court, owing mainly, to the negative reports of him in Lady TittleTattle’s Breadcrumbs.
But Duke Grabbington seemed unperturbed at being the sudden center of so much negative attention. Indeed, he seemed to positively relish it.
“The ‘Hide and Seek’ is a new craze from the Second Court and only the most fashionable people know it,” he said loudly, smiling around the room. “It’s rather like a quadrille. Four people dance to a merry jig and then—at the break in the music—the ladies run to hide while the gentlemen carry on dancing, with their eyes closed. When the music starts again, the gentlemen must try and find their ladies. And if they do,” he continued. “If they are successful in finding their lovely dance partners, the gentleman may claim a kiss of the lady—on her cheek or her hand, of course,” he added, as shocked murmuring began among the crowd.
At first Rissa hoped this impromptu speech would only make the Duke more of a pariah. But then Lord Buttheadington shouted out,
“I say—that sounds like jolly good fun! Why do we not try it, this, ‘Hide and Seek’ dance?”
Several more gentlemen agreed, which scandalized the ladies into blushing and giggling at the idea that if they were found, they must pay their partners with a kiss. The whole Court—except for Rissa of course—seemed much intrigued. After only a moment of debate, the orchestra struck up a lively jig and another dance was in the offing.
Rissa could have screamed in frustration. All night long she’d been telling herself that this was the last dance she would ever have to endure with the disgusting Duke. And now he had gone and inveigled another! She only wanted to be back in her rooms with James, letting the big Kindred bathe her and stroke her body until she came for him again and again, but now her pleasure must be put off in order to suffer through one more stupid dance with Duke Grabbington.
“Come my dear—it is our very last dance—you cannot deny me,” Grabbington said. Taking her gloved hand in his, he led her into a quadrille with another couple and they began dancing around the ballroom, though Rissa thought there was nothing she would rather do less.
At least the dance was a lively one, she thought to herself. It was a group dance with lots of ducking under the other couples’ arms and twirling and whirling without touching your partner at all. That was much better than a waltz, which Duke Grabbington always used as an excuse to hold her much too tightly while he said unspeakable things in her ear.
There was a break in the music just as they reached the far end of the Grand Ballroom, which signaled the ladies to run and hide. Rissa shot a glance towards James and saw that he was at the opposite end of the large room. It was a pity, since she would have liked to go and “hide” behind the big Kindred. That way, even if the Duke caught her, he wouldn’t be able to do anything but kiss her gloved hand. James certainly wouldn’t allow anything else.
But the big Kindred was too far away and she knew she would never make it in time. Instead, Rissa ducked behind one of the many vast, black marble pillars that lined the far end of the Grand Ballroom. These were as big around as a man was tall and stretched upwards to the three-story ceiling with the awesome majesty of ancient trees. Rissa had heard it said that trysts were sometimes carried out behind their massive round curves, something which was only possible when the music was loud enough to drown out all other sounds.
Now she ran and hid behind the farthest black pillar. The gentlemen were still dancing in place to the sound of a single flute, their eyes solemnly shut as the ladies scurried to hide, muffling their giggles behind their fans.
Rissa, however, stayed perfectly silent. She had no wish for the Duke to find her. In fact, she was hoping to skip the last part of the dance entirely and simply make her way back to the other end of the ballroom where James was doubtless waiting for her.
She waited a long breathless time, hearing the shouts of, “Ah-ha! I have found you!” and, “Do you not know that you cannot hide your beauty from me, my lovely?” from various gentlemen as they “caught” their ladies and demanded a kiss. The ladies complied with nervous giggles, holding out their hands or offering their cheeks, depending, Rissa supposed, on how much they liked their dance partner. She watched all this from behind the vast curving side of the pillar she had chosen as her hiding place, just waiting for the dance to be over.
Since she detested the Duke, she was very glad when it seemed that he could not find her. The music had started up again and she was breathing a sigh of relief when someone seized her by the arm and spun her around.
“So, you think you’ll be rid of me!” Duke Grabbington snarled. His eyes were blazing and his mustaches were twitching in agitation.
“Unhand me, Sir!” Rissa gasped, tugging at his grip. “How dare you touch me in this manner?”
“Oh, I’ll do more than touch you, Princess,” he snapped. “You’re not getting away from me as easily as all that!”
And then he pressed her up against the cold marble pillar and kissed her full on the mouth.
Rissa gasped and spluttered, trying to get away from him. But his grip on her was like iron and before she knew it, his slick, slimy tongue had found its way between her lips and deep into her mouth. The taste of stale Port and wet cigarillos invaded her mouth, turning her stomach with sudden, fierce nausea.
She gagged and was nearly sick, but the Duke withdrew just in time, though he didn’t release his hold on her wrist—not yet.
“There you are, Princess.” He was leering at her triumphantly. “Just try and throw me over now! You’ve been compromised—you gave me a kiss full on the mouth and so you must choose me as your Consort!”
“What? No!” Rissa gasped, horrified. “I would never—you are the one who kissed me! In fact, you forced yourself on me!”
“And who do you think would believe that?” The Duke smirked at her in a self-satisfied kind of way. “You’ve had my tongue in your mouth, Princess dear—I’ve been inside you. If you do not marry me now and words gets out, your reputation will be severely compromised—if not completely ruined.”
“No!” Rissa protested weakly—but she knew it was true. A lady must not ever allow a man to kiss her on the lips—much less to put his tongue inside her mouth. And everyone knew why.
Because that’s how you get pregnant, Rissa thought, feeling ill and horrified. And Alyssa says it happens every time. Why, I might have a baby planted in my belly right this very minute—the Duke’s baby! Ugh!
It was a horrible, distressing thought and once more she wondered if she might be sick.
“The day after tomorrow in the Throne Room, you will stand before the Steward and announce me as your Royal Consort,” Duke Grabbington told her, still smirking and twitching his mustaches at her. “And I will expect written confirmation of that fact from you. If I do not have it, I shall reveal to the entire Court that you allowed me to give you a deep kiss on the mouth and your reputation will be completely ruined!”
Then, with a final, self-satisfied smirk, he left Rissa to lean against the pillar, wiping her mouth weakly and wondering how everything in her life had gone so wrong so quickly.
