Sir James seemed to feel her tightened grip because he looked down at her briefly.
“Don’t worry—I’ll protect you with my life, as I swore, Your Highness. You are safe with me.”
Rissa nibbled her lower lip.
“Why would you swear to protect me with your life when you just met me?” she asked, though she knew she should not. It was a rude question—doubtless completely improper. But if the big Kindred cyborg, as he had called himself, really had no emotions, he shouldn’t mind a bit of impropriety. She hoped, anyway.
He glanced down at her again from his great height.
“Guarding you is my mission,” he said shortly. “Your wellbeing and safety were assigned to me by my direct supervisor, Commander Sylvan. I obey his orders completely.”
“Oh.” Rissa couldn’t help feeling somewhat disappointed by this answer. After the way he had stared into her eyes and kissed her hand while vowing his devotion so beautifully in the Receiving Hall, she had hoped for something else.
What are you hoping for, though? whispered a little voice in her head. A romantic declaration of love? Don’t be ridiculous, Rissa! Just because you’ve been dreaming of him for the past month doesn’t mean that he’s been dreaming of you, too—or that he feels anything for you. In fact, you know for a fact that he feels nothing, for he has no emotions.
Or so he had said.
“Do you really have no feelings at all? No emotions?” she blurted, before she could stop herself. Again, it was a terribly rude question, but it just seemed to slip out.
Sir James looked down at her again, searching her eyes with his own, flashing blue ones for a long moment. Rissa seemed to feel the breath catch in her throat at the intensity of that stare. But then he looked away and said,
“None,” in that same, flat voice that seemed to ring with finality.
“Oh,” she whispered. “I…I see.”
But despite her disappointment in his answer, she still had one more question.
“How did you cool me down when I fainted?” she asked, looking up at him. “Your hands…they felt like ice. But your arm seems warm enough.”
She nodded down at his left arm, which was the one he had offered to her, though it was more usual for a lady to walk on the right side of a gentleman. But Rissa wasn’t sure how she felt about touching his metal right arm, anyway, so she hadn’t complained.
“Ninety-five percent of my DNA is Kindred but the remaining five percent is Z’ngu,” he replied, glancing down at her again. “Which means that I can control my body temperature at will. As to why my body reacted to yours so quickly to cool you down…I don’t know.”
For a moment a troubled expression seemed to pass over his strong features, but it was gone so quickly, Rissa couldn’t be sure she’d seen it at all.
“Maybe it was just your way of…of protecting me?” she asked hesitantly.
He nodded thoughtfully.
“Possibly. I felt attuned to you the very first moment I saw you—probably because your safety is my mission. At any rate, when I felt how hot your skin was, my body reacted and dropped my temperature in order to cool yours.”
“Indeed, it did. And I am most grateful, Sir,” Rissa murmured. She could still feel those incredibly strong arms holding her against his broad chest and the cool, delicious sensation of his left hand—the non-metal one—caressing her flushed and burning cheeks. It was the closest, physically, she had ever been to any man and she was certain it would have been quite improper if it were not for the fact that the “man” she’d been held by was actually a kind of robot.
At that moment, they exited the Solarium and found themselves just outside the main Ballroom. Sounds of murmuring could be heard from behind the tall, carved doors and Rissa realized suddenly that when she walked into the room on her new bodyguard’s arm, they were going to be the talk of the Court.
I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be alone with him, she thought. We went right through the deserted Solarium together, without a chaperone! Without even a thought for the propriety of the situation or my reputation! However could I have been so careless?
But then she remembered the Steward’s, sharp words of rebuke to Lady Mildew. He had said that it was perfectly fine for Sir James to be alone with her—indeed, to bathe her and dress her and act as her Constant Companion, too.
Because he’s a robot, she told herself again. A cyborg—he has no feelings, no improper urges like the other men Lady Mildew is always warning me about. So it is perfectly safe to be alone with him—and perfectly proper as well.
She would hold her head high when they entered the Ballroom, she decided. If she betrayed even a whiff of shame or self-doubt, the gossip-hungry Court would pick up on it at once and tear her apart like a pack of ravening dogs.