Burning for Love

by Evangeline Anderson

  “It absolutely is!” Duke Grabbington exclaimed. “How am I to win in a fight against an enormous alien robot if we do not level the field a bit?”

  “Maybe that is something Your Grace should have considered before challenging Sir James to a duel,” Rissa said tartly. “Or maybe challenging him was the only way you could think of getting out of the situation you had created when you threatened me, with your head still on your shoulders.”

  “Why, you—” the Duke began, glaring at her.

  “Enough.” James raised his metal hand to silence them both. “Can we please get on with the duel?” he growled. “We need to get this finished so that Princess Ka’rissa can appear before the Steward and announce that she is formally rejecting the Duke’s suit.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Duke Grabbington snapped. “I am ready to fight you at any time, Sir Robot!”

  James gave him a look of contempt.

  “Just like you were ready to fight me in the Princess’s rooms, right? Well, just try not to piss yourself this time, Your Grace.”

  Grabbington’s face turned positively purple but he only nodded at his second, Lord Flobberton. The other man nodded back and held out the pistol case again.

  “Each shall choose a weapon,” he intoned. “When you are ready, gentlemen, we shall begin.”

  The Duke and James both picked up their pistols and then the two of them moved to the center of the dueling grounds. It was a long, grassy corridor between two stately rows of trees which had been used for contests of honor for centuries. Rissa stood in the shade of one of the trees, her heart pounding in her throat. There was ice in the pit of her belly and she still felt instinctively that something was not quite right…

  “Now then, gentlemen,” Lord Flobberton intoned. “The rules of dueling have remained unchanged for hundreds of years. Nevertheless, I shall state them here. Starting back-to-back, the two of you shall walk ten paces as I count them out. When I call out the last number—‘ten’—the two of you shall turn and fire at each other, each of you shooting to kill. May the best man win.”

  Both men nodded and neither one said a word as they went to stand back-to-back. Rissa couldn’t help thinking how very mismatched they were. The top of Duke’s head barely came up to James’s shoulder blades, despite the four-inch heels His Grace was wearing.

  The Lord Flobberton began to count.

  “One…two…three…”

  As the men paced away from each other, Rissa clasped her hands together nervously.

  Oh, let James be all right! Let him win! Keep him safe! she prayed to the Goddess of Mercy. Do not let the Duke do anything awful to him!

  “Four…five…six,” Lord Flobberton counted as the men continued to pace steadily, further and further away.

  The feeling that something was not right was growing in Rissa, swelling inside her like a feeling of doom. Should she try to stop the duel? But what could she say that would keep them from fighting? What could she do to halt the deadly contest?

  “Seven,” Lord Flobberton counted loudly. “Eight…Nine…T—”

  Duke Grabbington turned and fired, hitting James directly in the center of his broad back.

  Without a word, the big Kindred crumpled to the ground and lay still.

  38

  “James? James!” The shriek that burst from Rissa’s throat felt like a knife tearing through her flesh. She ran to where the big Kindred lay, facedown in the grass. He didn’t seem to be breathing. She couldn’t bear to look at the hole in his back—it wasn’t much larger than a coin, but it was so close to his spine and, most probably, his heart.

  The bullet must have hit his heart and torn right through it, Rissa thought numbly, as she stroked the copper-toned velvet coat that the big Kindred wore over his usual uniform of monochrome black. Oh, Goddess, he’s dead…he’s dead and it’s all because of me!

  “James,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “Oh, James, I’m so sorry…”

  “A simple mistake. I had thought you said ‘ten’ Flobberton,” she heard Duke Grabbington say, as the two men approached James’s fallen form. “In fact, I am quite certain you said ‘ten.’ So let’s hear no more about it!”

  “But…but this is an affair of honor!” Lord Flobberton was protesting. “Your Grace asked me to act as your second in order to make certain all the rules were properly obeyed. And then you shot the man in the back!”

  “I most certainly did not!” Duke Grabbington denied angrily. “And if you go saying anything of the sort anywhere around the Court, you’ll be sorry, Flobberton. As far as you’re concerned, the duel went off as planned and I shot on ‘ten.’”

  “No, you didn’t!” Rissa looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. She might have expected this kind of stress to cause her Heat Cycle to kick up but strangely, she felt ice-cold instead. “You didn’t shoot on ten,” she said to the Duke, glaring up at him. “You cheated! You are a liar and a cheat and a coward!”

  “Now, now, my dear,” the Duke said, smirking at her, his mustaches twitching. “Is that any way to speak to your future husband?”

  “I shall never marry you!” Rissa spat at him. “You killed the man I love!”

  “The man you love? Oh, ho! Now we come to it!” the Duke exclaimed. “So you’ve fallen in love with your guard, have you, Princess? But it was my understanding that Sir Robot there was…nothing but a robot.” He nudged James’s limp form with one foot and made a grimace of distaste.

  “Do not touch him!” Rissa flared. She was dimly aware that other people were approaching the dueling field—which was not far distant from the palace—but she didn’t care. “Yes, I love him!” she snapped at the Duke. “He is twice the man Your Grace will ever be, for all that he is part robot.”

  “Why, you little tease!” the Duke snapped. “And after the way you’ve been leading me on…”

  “I never made any secret of the fact that I want nothing to do with you!” Rissa snapped at him. “You are a loathsome little man who reeks of Port and wet cigarillos. It turns my stomach even to look at you!”

  This statement provoked a murmuring behind her and she was vaguely aware that the people coming from the palace had reached them. There weren’t too many—a few lower servants and Lady Manderly’s personal lady’s maid—but that was plenty enough to spread the word of what had happened here today.

  She turned to them, her eyes still streaming tears.

  “Listen to me, all of you,” she shouted. “I hate Duke Grabbington and I will reject his suit. He shot my guard, Sir James, in the back, in cold blood. He is a murderer and a coward!”

  “How dare you say such lies!” The Duke’s face had gone purple as he reached for Rissa to try and shut her up. He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her up, though she fought to be free.

  “Let go of me! Unhand me,” she exclaimed.

  The servants and the lady’s maid all had eyes as big as saucers as they watched this, but of course none of them could do much considering her attacker was a Peer of the Realm. To even lay hands on the Duke would be a hanging offense for any one of them.

  “I say, Grabbington, you must not accost the Princess in this way,” Lord Flobberton protested, frowning. “She is a Royal, after all.”

  “I shall be a Royal too, as soon as we marry!” Duke Grabbington snarled. “I shall take this little minx to the Steward this minute and she will accept my suit or I shall tell everyone that she has been compromised! Not by me,” he added quickly. “But by that huge Kindred robot—whom I had to shoot in order to save Her Highness’s honor.”

  “You lie!” Rissa shouted. “You lie with every breath you take! Unhand me!”

  “You heard the Princess.”

  The deep, familiar voice seemed to stop Rissa’s heart in her chest. Looking down, she saw that James had rolled over and was sitting up.

  Alive! He’s alive! But how?

  “James!” she gasped. “How…I don’t understand!”

  “I’
ll explain later,” the big Kindred growled. “Right now, I believe it’s my shot.”

  And lifting the antique pistol, which he still held, he shot Duke Grabbington directly in the heart.

  39

  There was a loud ping and Lord Flobberton, who had been standing not far from the Duke, gasped and clapped a hand to his side. He pulled his pearl-pink frock coat aside and stared down at himself with a stunned expression on his face. His pristine white waistcoat was growling an ominous crimson stain.

  “What happened?” someone—Lady Manderly’s maid, Rissa thought—asked loudly. “Sir Robot shot at Duke Grabbington, so he did! So how is it that it’s Lord Flobberton who’s bleeding?”

  “Body…armor,” Lord Flobberton choked out, pointing at the Duke. “Wearing…a chest…shield.”

  “What? Of course not—I would never dishonor a duel by wearing such a thing! The bullet merely went astray,” Duke Grabbington denied at once. But Rissa noticed that he was clutching his frock coat closed around himself as he backed away from his second.

  “Lies!” Lord Flobberton gasped, falling to his knees and pointing accusingly at the Duke. “Deceit and treachery! You have killed me with…your cowardice!”

  Then he fell over onto the grass, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

  “Lord Flobberton!” Dr. Dowdy had finally pushed his way through the servants—who were still watching, mouths agape—to kneel by the fallen Lord’s side. He turned the wounded man over and began examining him, a grim look on his face.

  “Dowdy! Come away at once!” Duke Grabbington exclaimed. “We must be off!”

  “I cannot leave a wounded man, Your Grace,” the physician protested. “I believe the bullet ricocheted off Your Grace’s chest plate and has pierced Lord Flobberton’s lung.”

  “For the last time, I am not wearing a chest plate or any kind of armor!” Duke Grabbington screamed, his face purple with rage.

  “Oh, no?” Unexpectedly, James lobbed the antique dueling pistol straight at the Duke’s chest. It struck him with a metallic sounding thunk, before falling to the ground.

  “Bless me, he is wearing a chest plate!” Lady Manderly’s maid murmured. “What until my Mistress hears about this!”

  “Wait until the entire Court hears about it,” Rissa said.

  “What are you talking about?” Duke Grabbington exclaimed. “You must not go spreading untrue rumors about me!”

  “They won’t be rumors—they’ll be the truth,” James growled. “You shot me in the back. If your bullet hadn’t hit the neural net that runs under my skin around my enhancement, I would have died just as Lord Flobberton is dying now. Luckily, you only stunned me for a bit and my nanites were able to repair the damage.”

  “And even if you had given James time to shoot, his bullet would have bounced harmlessly off your concealed armor,” Rissa said. “You never meant for this to be a fair contest of honor at all, did you, Duke Grabbington?”

  “Nonsense!” the Duke blustered, his face going even darker. “How dare you say such things to me?”

  “I dare because they are true!” Rissa glared up at the Duke. “Your Grace is exposed as a coward and a cheat. I suggest you absent yourself from this place of honor where you do not belong at once!”

  “You…you…” But Duke Grabbington seemed to have no way to refute her allegations. He pointed a trembling finger at Rissa. “You’ll be sorry for this, my girl, wait and see. I shall have my revenge!”

  Then he ran back to his gleaming, off-road sedan and motioned for his driver to go. For a moment, Rissa thought that the huge vehicle was actually going to hit them—and indeed, she thought the Duke would have been glad if it did. But it swerved at the last second, just as James was pushing her out of the way and then the Duke was gone—hopefully for good.

  “Oh, James,” Rissa whispered, clinging to the big Kindred as the servants dispersed and an emergency medical team came to transport Lord Flobberton to the nearest House of Healing. “Oh, James, I was so worried about you! I was so certain you were dead!”

  “It would take more than a single bullet to keep me from you, sweetheart,” he murmured, as he carried her into the shadows of the trees where they could be alone.

  His words stirred something inside her so strongly that Rissa couldn’t help herself. Reaching up, she pulled him down and took his mouth in a kiss that was as sweet as it was forbidden.

  It was her first true kiss—as she did not count the one that Duke Grabbington had stole from her—and Rissa found it to be perfectly delicious. James seemed unsure at first, but then he kissed her back, winding his arms around her and bending low to ravish her with his mouth, which tasted of some exotic spice that set her entire body on fire with need.

  At last she pulled away, panting, her lips feeling bruised and tender from the passion of the kiss.

  “James,” she whispered, looking up at him. “I know it isn’t right but I can’t help it—I love you.”

  “Oh, sweetheart…” He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “I…I have never experienced this emotion before, but I believe I love you too,” he murmured and kissed her again.

  Rissa felt as though her heart might swell until it burst.

  He loves me! He does have emotions and they are all for me!! a little voice sang joyfully in her head over and over.

  And then someone behind her exclaimed,

  “What is the meaning of this? Unhand the Princess at once!”

  40

  Gentle Reader,

  Who could have predicted the mayhem and confusion of the past few days? Duke Grabbington—of whom this author has never been particularly fond—has been shot in a duel. Well—a sort of duel, anyway. It is rather hard to sort out the fact from the fiction and there appear to be many different accounts of the process—often contradictory to each other. At any rate, we know that the Duke is not dead, thanks to his own treacherous and cowardly behavior. But there is much to discuss in regards to the duel, its origins and its consequences.

  Some say that the Duke attacked our dear Princess Ka’rissa and so her guard and Companion, Sir Robot, called him out for a duel. Others, however, maintain that it was Sir Robot who offended the Princess’s modesty and so the Duke called him out for it. Obviously both cannot be true, but it is difficult to know which account is accurate.

  Another bone of contention is the duel itself. Some are saying that the Duke fired before the count of ten and shot Sir Robot in the back. But this author has also heard it said that Sir Robot only pretended to be deceased and then turned when Duke Grabbington was close enough and shot him right in the chest! Either way, it is a scandal of the highest magnitude which had the entire Court in an uproar! How can one be sure of anything nowadays?

  At any rate, the bullet intended for Duke Grabbington apparently bounced off the chest shield His Grace was wearing and hit the hapless Lord Flobberton, who had agreed to serve as his second in the duel. Lord Flobberton survived, but has lost part of his left lung as a consequence and swears he will never see the Duke again—and who can blame him?

  But then again, it seems that none of us is destined to see His Grace again. Duke Grabbington has apparently fled to The Second Court to avoid scandal here. To this news, this author can only say, “Good riddance to bad rubbish!” The Duke has never been a favorite of anyone at Court and now that he is gone, we may all breathe a collective sigh of relief.

  But though Duke Grabbington is gone, the Steward is most seriously displeased with the whole business, which cast rather a shade upon our poor Princess Ka’rissa’s heretofore unsullied reputation. It is said that he has rescinded Sir Robot’s status as the Princess’s Constant Companion and given the spot back to the long-suffering Lady Mildew. Sir Robot is now only her guard, without access to her rooms or her Royal person and that, presumably, is how things will remain until she is married.

  The Steward has yet to name a new suitor for our Princess—indeed, there is little interest in the p
ost since the Princess turned the first two down and the third had fled in infamy. But it is expected that she must and will name the next man named to the post as her Royal Consort. Her Heat Cycle continues apace and her points have been seen giving off a tell-tale glow once more. She will have little choice but to accept the very next suitor who is proposes to her—unless she wishes to go up in flames, just like her dear, lamented Mama.

  Continue to follow my Crumbs for more on these developing scandals!

  Your humble servant,

  Lady TittleTattle

  * * *

  Rissa was rereading the last issue of the Breadcrumbs for what felt like the tenth time when she noticed that droplets of moisture were wetting the printed page. Reaching up, she felt her cheeks and realized that the droplets were tears, pattering down on the parchment like rain.

  She crumpled it up and tossed it away from her, wincing as she did so because the sudden motion caused her new Chastity Device to dig into her.

  “Oh James,” she whispered, swiping at her face, which was as hot and miserable on the outside as she felt on the inside. “Oh, James—I miss you so!”

  After the ill-fated duel and the forbidden kiss she had shared with the big Kindred, gossip had torn through the Court like an unchecked wildfire. And while most of it was detrimental to Duke Grabbington, enough of it cast Rissa herself in a questionable light that her Uncle, the Steward, was exceedingly displeased.

  He had announced that Lady Mildew would resume her post as Rissa’s Constant Companion and chaperone and that James would only be a personal guard, relegated to standing outside Rissa’s rooms and keeping her safe from afar. Once more, Lady Mildew was sleeping in the small bedroom at the front of Rissa’s apartments, which meant that there was no way she and James could spend any time alone together at all.

  To make matters worse, the very first night of the new arrangement, Lady Mildew had realized that Rissa’s Chastity wire was broken.