Those of you reading both versions, will notice a few extra details on this version - enjoy!
Chapter 3: Less than Perfect
Joseph wasn't sure that there was anything she could have said that would have surprised him more. Didn't all young girls dream of being a princess? He smiled at her, "Well you certainly have my undivided attention."
"I guess the more accurate statement would be…I didn't want to be queen if that meant marrying the Crown Prince."
"Ah…" He, also, was accustomed to waiting, so opted to not say anything further and let her continue.
Clarisse closed her eyes as she transported herself back to the time when she was a young woman, faced with the prospect of marrying someone she was just getting to know. Someone whose private side was far different than the public persona he portrayed. Her eyes opened and she looked directly into Joseph's, "What I'm about to tell you very few knew about and, with the exception of myself and one other person, no one else who knows is still alive."
Joseph's gaze never wavered, "Whatever secrets you share, Clarisse, I will take to my grave. I swear it to you."
She smiled slightly, "There was never any doubt."
The anticipation hung heavily in the air as he waited for her to begin. "As Rupert and I began to get to know each other, in the limited time we were given prior to our marriage, I was made privy to a side of him that only his family knew about. He had a vicious temper, one that would send him into a rage if it went unchecked or he wasn't provided with some relief from whatever was bothering him."
A negative swirl of emotion centered over Joseph as he heard her words and began to anticipate where she was going with the story. If the King had hurt her…if he had known about it… Taking a few calming breaths, he continued to wait for whatever would be revealed.
"My family had always been very level headed, calm individuals so I was unaccustomed with how to handle such outbursts. Normally, it just involved him gripping my arms tightly or a shove to remove me from the path he was set on…but there was one night…A night that will remain with me forever."
Joseph set his coffee cup down for fear his tight grip would shatter the fragile cup. His voice was low and he fought to keep the anger he was currently feeling towards his King under control, "What did he do, Clarisse?"
"It was early in his reign and he was eager to prove himself…to his father and to Genovia. This was prior to your arrival at the Palace. We had returned home after a rather stressful and non-productive trade negotiation with Spain. The liaison assigned to deal with us had been condescending to Rupert and acted as though Genovia were a third world country asking for handouts rather than a viable trading partner. Rupert was angry…angrier than I had ever seen him. I had changed for bed as exhaustion from the past few days had taken its toll on me as well. There was a vase of red carnations sitting on our bedside. I'm sure when the maids left them, they hadn't realized that a red carnation is the national flower of Spain. Seeing the flowers broke his remaining control. He threw the vase against the wall shattering it into several pieces."
Joseph exhaled the breath he had been holding. While the situation must have been frightening for Clarisse, it paled in comparison to the possibilities that had been swirling through his mind. As Clarisse started again, Joseph realized he had been wrong…so wrong.
"Apparently shattering of glass wasn't enough to appease his anger. He turned the force of his anger fully on me."
Joseph moved closer wanting to offer her some of the same comfort she had offered him earlier today. He kept his voice at a whisper to avoid shouting his anger, "If this is too painful…" This time he knew his imagination was right on target…
"No. I want to be able to tell someone. And…if we continue to deepen our relationship, you will have to know."
The swirling emotions picked back up again…what could she possibly be trying to tell him? The blood pounded in his ears as he interpreted her meaning. First, that she wanted more of a relationship with him and second…what happened that night could affect the relationship. "Tell me, Clarisse. Whatever you way, it won't change how I feel about you."
"Brave words for the unknown, Joseph." She paused a few minutes to let her words sink in then continued. "Rupert grabbed me, tore my nightgown and shoved me to the floor. He was on top of me before I could get away. I cried out and pain…probably even screamed as I beat against his chest to stop him. I could feel the glass cutting into my skin and pleaded with him to stop."
"Oh my god, Clarisse. He raped you! Why didn't you call for help, security, anyone?"
"He had sent them away, demanding some time alone. They were loyal to their King and followed his orders. It wasn't the first time he had demanded the use of my body; that I could handle. The glass, however…was less forgiving."
The scene playing out in his mind overwhelmed his heart with anger towards any man, much less the man he had served as King, who used physical power over women. So caught up in his emotions, he didn't hear her when she stood and spoke softly, "Will you excuse me for a moment?"
Joseph was fighting hard for control. His Queen. His Clarisse. His Everything. She had been systematically raped over the course of her marriage! If the King weren't dead, he would kill him with his bare hands. Taking a few calming breaths, he finally looked up. "Clarisse?!"
"Back here," she called from behind the closed door of her bedroom.
He stood and made his way to the door. Forcing a calmness in his voice that he certainly wasn't feeling, he asked, "Are you alright? Please, we need to talk more about this."
The door opened and he noticed she was in a pale blue silk robe. "Clarisse?"
"Please come in. There's something I need to show you." Her soft voice broke through his rising anger.
Under any other circumstance being invited into her bedroom to "see" something would have caused a chain reaction in his body that would have been unstoppable. Now, though, concern for his friend outweighed anything else. He stepped through the threshold of the door and closed it softly behind him.
Her room was painted in a muted ivory and adorned with lace at appropriate places. The four poster bed definitely made a statement in the otherwise subdued room as the satin comforter was the deepest of midnight blue. Joseph tried not to be distracted with the thought of her pale skin against such a magnificent backdrop.
Turning his attention to her, their eyes met before she turned her back to him and let the robe fall into a pool of satin on the floor revealing her body adorned in nothing more than black satin undergarments.
Her head turned towards him and she asked, "Please, come over here by me." Her voice was serious and there was an edge of nervousness to it as well. Not the good kind of nervous, but more of an 'I'm worried this will change everything…and not in a good way' nervous.
Moving to stand just behind her and to her left, he whispered. "I'm here. Show me."
She took his hand and guided it to her lower back. He was expecting the same smooth, satin flesh that covered her face, arms, chest and, as of earlier, he knew, her legs. Instead, it felt rough to his touch. He leaned down slightly to look, really look at the skin. The area was covered with tiny, jagged scars. Though they had diminished some with time, there were still visible lines and raised areas just above her hips and bottom.
She guided his hand under the lacy waistband and turned in his arms, tears stung the back of her eyes, threatening to spill. "Can you feel it?"
Trying not to think about where his hand actually was, he focused solely on the skin. The scar tissue was more prominent here: longer, deeper, and, he was certain should he ever be given the privilege to see, much more visible. He let his hand move slowly over the curve of her hips feeling the extent of the damaged skin. Drawing her closer, he whispered. "Shhh, please don't cry. I am so sorry you had to endure such a nightmare."
He held her for several minutes, waiting for both of their emotions to settle before they continued. Once he sensed they were a bit calmer, he released her and retrieved her robe from the floor, assisting until she was covered once again. He definitely could not have a serious conversation with her dressed in nothing but black lingerie. He moved over to the chaise lounge, sitting down and guiding her to his lap. "So the family physician is the only person still alive that knows about what happened that night?"
"Very perceptive. Yes, once the anger was spent, Rupert was truly remorseful."
"They always are." Joseph interjected.
She nodded with understanding. "This time was different, though. The physical proof of his anger was evident and it wasn't something that a maid could clean up. Some of my wounds were very deep and there was a fair amount of blood."
Joseph couldn't help it. His grip on her tightened as she continued to share what happened the rest of the nightmare.
"He called the doctor and brought him in through a secret passageway. He did what he could to get all of the glass out and treat the wounds, but he said the scars would remain."
"How did you keep the scars from covering your back?" His curiosity made him ask and he didn't want to use any mental space imagining Rupert (he refused to consider him a king any longer) raping Clarisse on a bed of glass.
"Once I realized he wasn't going to stop, I pushed away as much glass as I could with my hands and then kept my body propped up as much as possible to keep the damage minimal. Otherwise, there would have been no backless dresses for me." She smiled slightly at her last statement.
"Did he ever…" now that the anger had subsided some, he found it difficult to say the word rape. "…again?"
"Please understand, Joseph, with the exception of that time, it wasn't really as bad as you imagine. Once we had produced heirs to the throne, my desire to be intimate with him basically disappeared. I didn't love him and wasn't IN love with him. Add to that the occasional fits of rage I had to contend with, it just didn't put me in the mood, as they say. Whatever else he may have been, Rupert honored that part of his vows. So, from time to time, when his physical needs had to be sated, he would impress upon me the need for me to fulfill my duty."
"He actually referred to it as a duty?" Joseph couldn't imagine such a thing. Couldn't imagine sharing such an intimate experience with someone you didn't love.
"That's what it was, Joseph. My duty." She sounded sad at the admission.
"Did he love you? You told Mia you grew fond of him, but did he love you?"
Clarisse snuggled further in to Joseph's embrace. There was something about being in his arms that made her feel safe. "Honestly? I don't know. Maybe at the end?"
"Was that when you grew fond of him?" He needed to understand how they had progressed to that point.
"As I mentioned earlier, after…that night…he changed. He sought the counsel of the Archbishop to help him deal with his anger. It was a long time before he would even touch me again…not that I minded really. I had learned years before how to close that part of myself off…to not need. Emotions had only caused me trouble, so I avoided them when at all possible."
Joseph smiled, "Hence the persona of Ice Queen."
She sat up and looked at him, concern marring her already troubled features, "Did you think that? I know it was a term used by those in the palace, hopefully the people of Genovia never thought of me that way."
"The only people in Genovia who would ever think such a thing are the politicians; and we certainly don't count them." Joseph reassured with a quick wink.
"Some say you are grumpy," she shared with him in an effort to keep the playing field even.
He shrugged, "My guess is I'm grumpy towards those who think of you as an Ice Queen."
"And you? Do you think I'm an Ice Queen?" She hated to ask, but wanted to know.
Joseph knew she needed reassurance and it was important that his words and actions convey exactly that. His voice was deep and blue eyes locked with blue. "From the first time I looked in those deep, soulful eyes of yours, I knew that you were a warm, caring, vibrant, and passionate woman. No rumor would ever convince me otherwise. And…" he let the tip of his fingers caress her cheek and slowly move down the edge of her robe until he could trace the swell of her breasts. He watched as the heat flamed in those same eyes before closing to allow the sensations to wash over her troubled soul.
"And, from the first time I was given the privilege to touch you, I knew that you had just been waiting for the right man to bring out those needs and desires you had so efficiently locked away."
Clarisse opened her eyes and cast her gaze directly on him. "And are you the right man, Joseph?"
"Only one way to find out," he whispered before claiming her lips in a passionate kiss. She felt so good, cradled in his arms; the silk of her robe sliding easily against him. For the second time that day, his hand found the smooth skin of her thigh.
As Joseph's hand slid higher, a delicious heat spread throughout her body melting away the walls of ice that had been built around her baser needs and desires. His touch was not demanding, asking nothing from her except to bask in the warmth that skin to skin contact offered. So this is what it feels like to be with someone who wanted something more than sex…more than just to use your body for his pleasure.
Her tongue traced his bottom lip along the line of his mouth, tempting…asking…wanting, more. Who am I to deny a beautiful woman what she wants? He opened to her advances as his hand slid higher, now firmly cupping her satin-clad derriere. She tensed in his arms. He suspected it was because she was highly self-conscious about what she thought was ugly and marred her perfection.
They needed to get past this and he wanted to be the one to help her. Slowly, he ended the kiss, missing her lips the moment they were no longer touching his. "How about that massage?"
Her breathing was ragged from the passionate kiss. It was unfamiliar, yet desirable. She wanted more. More of his kisses. More of his hands on her flesh. More of…him. Not trusting her voice at the moment, she simply nodded. Slowly she extricated her body from his, hating the moment his heat left hers.
Her robe flowed gently in the breeze created by her sure steps. Moments later, she returned from the bathroom with a large towel and massage oil. "Monique uses this when she does my weekly massage. Will it suffice?"
Moving towards the bed, he took the towel and spread it out to provide protection for the comforter. He set the oil on the bedside night stand, "I'd like to remove my outer shirt so no oil gets on it. Is that alright?"
Stepping closer, she shook her head, "No."
"No?"
Her fingers deftly moved over the buttons, unhooking each one and then pulling the shirt from the waist band of his pants. She reveled in the fact his breath caught as her hands slipped under the shirt, smoothing along his chest up to his shoulders until she could remove the garment. "No, because I wanted to do it for you."
His grin widened, he loved seeing a more playful side of her. It was something that few had ever been privileged to see and he was honored that she felt safe enough with him to be herself. Returning the favor, he untied the sash that held her robe closed. His hands slid up her arms until they were holding the material at her shoulders, allowing her to disrobe with ease. Seeing the stark contrast of black against alabaster sent his heart racing and nostrils flaring. Down boy. Play your cards right and then maybe you can claim this precious gift you've been given. Perhaps your penance will finally be complete.
Clarisse felt slightly self-conscious as she carefully placed herself face down on the towel. Though she couldn't see Joseph, she could feel his gaze as he drank in the sight of her body being revealed to him. She was still nervous about him seeing the scars that he had only felt. She remembered the final time she and Rupert had been intimate. When he saw the scars, he had bathed them with his tears, begging her forgiveness yet again. She had forgiven him…again and comforted him. They had truly made love for the first…and last time. Less than thirty days later, a rare heart disease had claimed his life.
All thoughts of that final night with Rupert fled the minute she felt Joseph unhook her bra. The two pieces that held everything in place were now laying useless at her side. A moment later the smell of lavender filled the room and the warmth was back again as Joseph began to move his hands up and down her back. Slow. Rhythmic. Comforting. Similar to the stroke Monique used, but the results were so very different.
Slow. Deep. Breaths. In through your nose…out through your mouth was the mantra Joseph repeated over and over again to himself. As he wasn't sure where this would lead, he needed to keep his body in check and under control. Fingers kneaded the knots he ran across as his hands skimmed along the surface of her elegant back. Her height gave her body long lines accented by curves in just the right places. As if they had a mind of their own, his fingers slipped lower to cup around her sides as he traversed back down her body allowing them to graze the side of her breasts.
Clarisse gasped and stifled a moan as Joseph's touch grew bolder. Though the muscles in her back were being effectively dealt with, every other muscle in her body was highly attuned to this new sensation they were experiencing. She felt his hands move from her back to her arms. Each was massaged thoroughly down to the very tips of her fingers. Once finished with her fingers, his touch lingered on her back a few more minutes before moving to her legs and feet.
Over and over again Joseph repeated the pattern. He wanted to make sure she was relaxed before he pushed things with her. When he got to her feet, she couldn't hide her response in the bedcovers, "Oh Joseph…mmmm…" His groin answered for him, tightening to an almost uncomfortable level. Slow. Deep. Breaths.
Finally, he had worked over the back of her body…everywhere but where she feared the most. Without speaking, he slowly lowered the satin of her panties just an inch or so. He heard the sharp intake of a breath that was being held… He saw her hands fist the comforter, whether to focus her fear or keep her rooted in place, he could not be sure. "Trust me," he whispered.
She didn't speak, but he noticed a subtle nodding of her head. Considering that approval, he moved the satin lower. The smaller scars were similar to those on her lower back. A few scars, however were deeper and had left their unmistakable mark on her otherwise perfect skin. Though the redness was gone, the white scar was raised and resembled tiny threads wrapped around a small, thin wire. The smaller of the two rested mostly on her left cheek, spanning several inches. The larger was jagged and appeared as mountain peaks spanning the entire area hidden beneath the material. A cold wave of fury washed over him as he surmised the same large piece of glass must have cut into her numerous times as Rupert satisfied his lust, surging in to her again and again…
Tears slowly slipped out of Clarisse's eyes as she felt Joseph's scrutiny. Was he shocked by what he saw? Were the flames of desire extinguished when he saw the hideous flesh? Before she could continue down a path of self-recrimination, she felt it. The tip of his fingers was tracing each inch of the scars, sometimes swirling his own imaginary patterns along the permanent marks left on the canvas of her body.
Moments later, his mouth replaced his fingers, placing chaste kisses along the same path his hand had just taken. This time there were tears of relief slipping through her tightly held lids, defying her goal to remain in control.
"So beautiful," he whispered against her skin before placing a final kiss at the deepest part of the scar. Sliding her panties back into place and rehooking her bra, he then joined her on the bed and pulled her into his arms. "Hey, why the tears?" he asked as he started kissing them away.
"These…are…tears…of…joy," she answered between kisses. "Thank you…for not being frightened away by less than perfect."
He lifted her chin so he could look in her eyes, "You are still perfect as far as I'm concerned."
"You're definition of perfect must be a bit skewed then, my gallant knight."
His hand ran slowly from her chin, down her throat, over her breasts, along the smooth and gently rounded plane of her stomach, and finally to her side and over her derriere until it came to rest there, pulling her tightly against his body. "Oh I graded on a curve and your curves, my dear…are definitely perfect."
She rewarded him with a brilliant smile, "So very clever you are."
"And truthful," he added.
"And truthful," she concurred as she saw in his eyes that his appreciation for her had not diminished after seeing the parts of her that she kept hidden from the rest of the world. "Joseph?"
"Yes?"
"Make love to me."
~~10:00 p.m. ~~
tbc
