Chapter 3

Rupert leaned against the balustrade, letting the cool night air calm him. He shook his head and chuckled softly at his actions moments before. He had thrown Clarisse into Joseph's arms and he knew from Joseph's expression that the other man was well aware of his pressing problem. It wouldn't surprise him if Joseph ended up with an equally pressing problem after he danced with Clarisse.

It was strange how his wife had no idea the effect she had on most of the male population. How most of the men that interacted with her wanted to have her in their bed. How they wanted to feel her skin under their hands and taste her lips. How they wanted to hear her cries of passion as they drove into her body.

There were times it took all his self-control not to slam his fist into the faces of those pompous jackasses as they ogled her! And there were times he wanted to shout at the top of his lungs 'SHE IS MINE…EYES OFF!'

He knew that she was comfortable with her sexuality when she was with him. She would tease and tempt him easily without being blatant and he knew that this ease stemmed from the safety she felt from within their relationship. But it still amazed him at how naïve…no innocent she was.

The sound of laughter drifted toward Rupert and he glanced back into the ballroom seeing his wife's head tipped back, laughter escaping from her at a comment made by Joseph.

'Probably called her on her teasing,' Rupert watched as the two danced their movements' fluid.

From his vantage point Rupert was able to see Clarisse's expression as Joseph twirled her in his arms. She was relaxed, enjoying the dance and the conversation coming from Joseph. 'He always could get her to laugh, even when she was angry,' thought Rupert before straightening abruptly.

'Why didn't I see it before,' he thought as he watched Clarisse and Joseph dance. The answer had been staring him in the face. 'Joseph! It is Joseph! He is the one,' thought Rupert, almost giddy at the revelation that the man he had been looking for; the one that would ensure that Clarisse was protected, supported and loved after he was gone was in fact a man that Rupert trusted above all others.

As Rupert continued to watch one dance end and another begin with neither relinquishing the other as a partner he recalled a conversation with his grandmother, the Dowager Queen, years ago.

~*~*~*~*

"Rupert, mon loup, comment ca va?"

"Bien, grand-mere., et toi?" Rupert answered, bending down to kiss her on the cheek.

"I am doing well also, mon loup," his Grandmother answered. "Come, sit with me," she said," I have something to speak to you about."

Sitting down on the sofa next to his grandmother, Rupert was surprised when she took his hand in hers, turning it up to stare at his palm. He said nothing as she traced the various lines on his palm. He had heard the stories about his grandmother; about her Romani blood and how her grandmother had married a gadjo, a non-Gypsy and had been disowned. He had asked his grandfather once about the rumours but his grandfather neither confirmed nor denied them. He had simply said, "She is who she is, the love of my life." His father was even less forthcoming, simply replying that she was the Dowager Queen.

Rupert hadn't pursued it further but there were times that he was sure there was more to his grandmother than simply being the Dowager Queen. Shaking himself free from his musings he looked up into his grandmothers' eyes.

"Her eyes will draw you, mon loup," she began, her voice strong and firm. "Her soul will sing with yours," Rupert heard his grandmother say as he stared into her eyes. "Love her as no other, mon cher. But it will not be you who must protect her, mon loup. For that, you must find another," his grandmother instructed.

"Her protection is paramount to the future of the Renaldi line," his grandmother continued, her voice seeming to come from far away. "She will be loved by both wolf and leopard. Mon loup first, el leopardo second. Find the leopard, mon loup and protect the line, your love and the Crown."

~*~*~*~*

The conversation had all been forgotten until he had met Clarisse. His parents had been arranging his introduction to suitable candidates to marry for months and Rupert had grown tired of the tedious meet and greets that seemed to fill the summer months. But all that changed when he had met Clarisse. The moment that they had been introduced he had been smitten. So much so that he refused to even consider any other candidates for his bride.

The row that erupted between he and his father, the King had been spectacular. As King, his father hadn't been impressed with Clarisse. A few of his nicer misnomers had been klutz and passable looking. If it hadn't been for his mother, his grandmother, and his uncle, Rupert would have abdicated his right to the throne, married Clarisse and left Genovia. It wasn't until after their wedding that his father finally accepted that Clarisse was the correct choice for Queen and wife to Rupert. Laughing softly, Rupert recalled exactly what had caused his father to accept Clarisse.

~*~*~*~*

Clarisse walked down the hallway, her heels clicking on the marbled tiles, her speed the only outward indication of the fury she felt. Inwardly she was ranting at the King, her father-in-law.

'What does he think I am? A broodmare,' Clarisse fumed. 'How dare he make such a comment to Parliament!' Clarisse seethed, crumpling the paper in her hand.

Arriving at the door of the King's office, Clarisse ignored Marcus, the King's aide and threw open the doors. Striding across the office, Clarisse ignored the surprised looks from the various officials including her husband at the table. Placing the paper down on the table, Clarisse pointed to it while whispering in the ear of the King. Whatever she said was between her and the King but she made her point well, if the expression on the King's face was any indication.

Offering her apologies for the interruption, Clarisse turned to leave. The King's voice stopped her exit.

"Six months, my dear?" asked her father-in-law.

Clarisse turned, tilted her head in consideration and answered, "Ten at least, Your Majesty."

"Ten?"

"Yes," Clarisse responded. "After all, practice makes perfect," she added before exiting.

As she walked down the hall, she could hear the King's answering laugh.

~*~*~*~*

Watching Clarisse and Joseph end their dance and Clarisse excuse herself Rupert thought, 'Joseph is who grand-mere referred to all those years ago.'

As Clarisse crossed the dance floor toward one of the small salons accompanied by Anton, a member of Joseph's security team, Rupert eyes narrowed.

"First things first," growled Rupert, re-entering the ballroom; it was time to speak to a certain Italian representative about his manners.