Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters since Princess Diaries 1 & 2, and its characters are the property of Disney, Buena Vista, and Meg Cabot. I make no money from this work of fiction.
Two Quilts
Clarisse swept out of Parliament, not deigning to look at anyone. She couldn't believe the gall of Viscount Mabrey! How DARE he presume to even think of setting Mia's claim to the throne of Genovia aside for his nephew? And WHY did Lord Palimore have to wake up today, of all days, in order to back up the Viscount's mad scheme? What was she going to say to Mia?
Becoming aware of Charlotte trying to keep up with her while speaking hurriedly in a low tone, Clarisse stopped so abruptly that Charlotte almost crashed into her. Clarisse cut through her aide's embarrassed stammered apologies. "I need to be alone for a few moments before meeting with Mia," she said abruptly.
"Certainly, your Majesty," Charlotte nodded, falling back a few paces. "I told her to meet you in the throne room in an hour, which gives you fifteen minutes. If that's not enough ..."
Enough to what? was Clarisse's disgruntled thought. Enough to get over her fury? Enough to calm herself down so she could be the cool, reasoning sovereign she needed to be? Without answering Charlotte, Clarisse turned away and resumed her walk, not even seeing Charlotte's shocked then sympathetic face.
Feeling as if her life was crashing around her, Clarisse walked into the throne room and stopped dead, staring around at all the former kings and queens looking down at her reproachfully. "I did not expect this!" she said aloud, knowing it was ridiculous to defend herself against imaginary accusations. "It is the fault of that ... that ... that SNAKE! No one could have anticipated such a turn of events, not even a full-blooded Renaldi!"
There was, of course, no answer from the portraits. Clarisse sat on the throne and allowed herself to lean back and close her eyes to try to regain her equilibrium. How was she to tell Mia about this? What would her grand-daughter do, say, THINK? Clarisse sincerely hoped Mia would not think that this had been a possibility from the beginning and that Clarisse had deliberately refrained from mentioning it in order to lure Mia to Genovia.
Clarisse had never felt so overwhelmed and so alone, not even when Rupert had died, or when Philippe had had that terrible accident. She had felt all the members of Parliament watching her reactions closely, she had heard the whispers that King Rupert would have handled things differently had HE been the one on the throne instead of someone who had not been born to the role. Tears of helplessness pricked her eyes and clogged her throat, but Clarisse refused to shed them. If only someone cared how SHE felt ... Clarisse. Not the queen, but the woman.
The image of Joseph came to her, and Clarisse tried to force it away. She must NOT think of him that way! His intense demeanor and self-confidence gave him the air of one who could be totally trusted, one who would be of the utmost comfort to any woman ... but that was his JOB, Clarisse told herself harshly. Her heart fluttered as she remembered his kiss on her hand last night just before her entrance to Mia's birthday ball, and the look in her eyes when he told her she looked beautiful but that she was late. Oh, she simply MUST concentrate on Mia and this situation now ...
Suddenly Clarisse became aware that Maurice was sitting beside her, and had insinuated his head under her hand. She had been absently petting her beloved dog and had not been paying attention to him! Opening her eyes, Clarisse smiled as Maurice whined a little and pawed her skirt as if asking for more caresses. She scratched his head and tugged on his ears, saying, "Oh, Maurice, thank you. You care, don't you? I'm not alone. Thank you. You are such a comfort. It's a shame you can't talk ..."
Then the door was flung open and Mia stormed in. "Grandma, I can't BELIEVE what happened! How could they?"
Clarisse quickly stood and almost hugged Mia before biting her lip and deciding that the girl would probably reject her embrace. Taking a deep breath, she began to carefully explain about the law and to stress that whatever decision Mia made, it was HERS to make. Clarisse's pride in and love of her grand-daughter grew when Mia quoted Philippe's definition of courage. Nodding, Clarisse said, "Spoken like a true queen!" when Mia vowed to do whatever she had to do to have her chance to make a difference as a ruler.
Then Mia was gone, whirling out of the room in search of comfort in the form of ice cream and her cat. Clarisse looked around the throne room again, smiling to see Maurice lying by the throne, head up as he watched her closely. "You heard Mia say she was looking for Fat Louis, didn't you?" she said to him, and his tail wagged slightly as he jumped to his feet and came to be petted again.
Clarisse began to pace the room, and Maurice kept at her side, his head under her caressing hand and whining slightly when she stopped touching him. Plans and possibilities were whirling in Clarisse's head and she was almost growing dizzy with the strain of trying to keep up appearances. "A queen must always be in control," she spoke softly to Maurice, "but, oh, I long for a time when I can just be myself and ask for and accept comfort from anyone."
"Anyone including me?" a husky voice stopped her in her tracks, and she whirled to the side door.
"Joseph!" Colour rushed to her face, then receded, and her hands began their usual nervous movements as she gripped them together in front of her.
"I'm sorry, your Majesty, but I overheard you speaking with Maurice, and thought you should know that I was here." He drew nearer, and smiled at her, then took her hands firmly in his. "I heard what happened in Parliament, and I saw from the security room your talk with Princess Mia. If it is your wish, I will have the Viscount and his miserable nephew hung by their toes in the courtyard!"
"Oh, Joseph!" Clarisse chuckled, shaking her head. "How do you do it?"
"Do what?" he asked innocently.
"Make me laugh and forget my troubles."
"It's my job," he reminded her, then he grinned. "One little girl informed me once that my job was to be your quilt."
An image of Joseph on her bed and lying over her raced through Clarisse's mind and she gasped and involuntarily tried to pull her hands free.
He refused to release her hands and continued speaking as if she had never moved. "When I asked what she meant, her mother looked rather embarrassed and said that the child meant 'comforter' but got the word wrong. I am your Head of Security. It is my job to provide comfort and a safe haven for your Majesty so that you can continue to do YOUR job of running Genovia."
Clarisse sternly admonished her errant imagination to behave, and said, "Thank you, Joseph. I ... You saw and heard Mia and I?"
"I did. She does indeed have the makings of a true queen ... like her grandmother."
"Yes, I think she does, too. But ..." Clarisse hesitated, her eyes clouding again. At that moment, Maurice nudged her leg and whined again. "Oh, Maurice, it's all right. Really, I'll be ..." She stopped, horrified, when her voice broke.
Instantly Joseph released her hands, and his arms were around her, holding her close to him. "My dear," he whispered into her ear as she allowed her body to rest against his, "Let me do my job. Let me comfort you as best I can. Let me bear some of your burdens for you. Please, Clarisse, let me ... love you." The last two words were barely breathed, but Clarisse heard them clearly.
She didn't hesitate at all before turning her head, pressing kisses on his cheek and arching her neck for his mouth to touch her throat. "You DID turn off the cameras before coming here, Joseph?" her question was barely audible.
"Of course," he managed to say before capturing her mouth with his, more demanding than she had expected.
Her mind fogged and she was melting and eager under his kisses. She was a woman rather than a queen in his arms. His lips were skillful, tenderness mixed with insistence. The scrape of his
moustache and beard as he trailed kisses across her cheek and down her throat was more erotic than anything she had ever felt. Against her collarbone where he had pushed her jacket aside, he paused, his mouth hot, and a shudder racked him. His fingers bit into her arms for a moment, and then he lifted his head.
Hoarsely he said, "I think this is the moment to say that my job is finished for now."
She couldn't help herself; she made a small sound of protest. She saw a muscle jerk in his cheek. She wanted to beg him to kiss her again, but of course he was right. She trembled with her desire.
"Are you cold?" he asked, his hands gripping her upper arms.
She shook her head, then again felt Maurice leaning on her leg. Gathering all her acting ability, Clarisse smiled at Joseph. "No," she said, softly. "No, I have TWO quilts to keep me warm."