Burning for Love (Kindred Tales)

“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.

27

Something was wrong with the Princess.

That much was obvious to James, but she refused to tell him what it was. He wished he knew if something had happened to her when she’d been out of his field of view during that last dance. James had only lost sight of her for a few moments, when she had ducked behind a large black pillar, but that was too long as far as he was concerned. He had rushed to where he saw her last as quickly as he could make his way through the crowd, but there had been too many dancers on the floor for him to get to her quickly.

His mind had been filled with worst case scenarios—assassins and the like. But when he finally found her, Ka’rissa was simply leaning against a pillar wiping her mouth over and over and looking very shaken up indeed.

“Please, James, I feel truly unwell,” she had murmured, when he had asked what had happened. “Can we please go back to my rooms now?”

James had tried again to talk to her once they reached the rooms, but she had only shaken her head mutely. She had refused her bath, too, when Lady Mildew came, saying she felt unwell and simply wanted to go to bed.

After the odious old woman had left, James had asked again what was wrong but Ka’rissa only shook her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Please, Princess, tell me,” he begged. Was this strange constriction in his heart concern for her or something deeper? It was almost as though he could feel her pain—whatever it was—as his own. It was an uncomfortable sensation for someone who was just now getting used to having emotions but James wouldn’t have wished it away—it was an indication of him that something was wrong with the female he cared for.

But Ka’rissa only shook her head and said she was tired and wanted to go to sleep. James nodded, hoping that she would tell him in her own time.

“All right,” he’d said. “Let’s get undressed. Do you need help with your Heat Cycle?”

He was assuming she would—after all, she had refused to take her bath, which was still a vital part of cooling her down after a long night of dancing.

But the Princess only shook her head.

“No thank you, James,” she murmured, keeping her eyes down as she spoke. “And…I think I had better sleep alone tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“Alone?” James frowned at her. “But how will you stay cool, Princess? You haven’t even had your bath. If I’m not beside you to keep you from overheating…”

“I shall manage just fine, I expect.” She looked up for a moment, trying to smile but failing miserably. “I just…need a bit of time to myself. Please try to understand, James.”

The only thing James understood was that something was very, very wrong. But for some reason, she didn’t seem to think she could tell him what it was.

He tried one more time.

“Princess, if something happened to you tonight—”

“Nothing happened!” she exclaimed, a little too vehemently, James thought. “I just…I just need to be alone and rest,” she added, and ran a hand through her long, tangled hair. James wished he could offer to tend it for her as he usually did, but it was clear she wanted time to herself. He supposed she would tell him what was wrong when she felt like it.