Chapter 7

"Why are all of you lollygagging about when there's work to be done?" Miss Parker boomed, clapping her pudgy hands twice. "I'll not be letting my queen and her new husband come home to a reception for someone else and this sort of confusion and disarray- not while I'm still breathing on me own two feet!" She spun around to face the printer, who was opening the last box of embossed napkins. "We need eight hundred napkins with a 'C' and 'J' intertwined on them," she demanded, "and five hundred cards with today's date and names of Their Majesties, along with the royal crest."

The printer turned beet red and sputtered. "But that's impossible!"

"We'll use the palace napkins for the luncheon," Miss Parker continued, ignoring the apoplectic man, "giving you three hours to get them printed and delivered for this evening's reception."

"But-"

"If they aren't, I will personally track you down and find out why." Dismissing the still-fussing printer, she fixed her gaze on the baker brought in from Paris. The man stared down his nose at her.

"Find a way to disguise those 'J's on those petty-fours," she ordered, hands on her hips.

"And just how do you propose one goes about changing decoratives on five hundred cakes?" he sniffed. "They are edible works of art."

"One squirts icing on 'em," Miss Parker shot back. "Make them into flowers or bells."

The man nearly fainted. "One does not squirt-"

"And," Miss Parker continued, "that groom's cake…what is it?"

He glared at her as if she were an ignorant peasant. "Traditionally, the groom's cake is a smaller cake-" the man began with exaggerated patience, but she had none of her own and abruptly cut him off.

"No, I mean what kind is it?" Miss Parker gave him the look she reserved for a fly in butter.

"Lemon."

"Mr. Coraza isn't overly fond of lemon cake or pies…or lime punch, for that matter," she mused. "We will need a new one."

The baker drew himself up and huffed, "I cannot possibly prepare a new cake-"

"I can," Gerta said, giving the man a withering glance. "You leave the groom's cake and the punch to me, Miss Parker." The two women exchanged understanding nods before Gerta hurried away to her kitchen.

Miss Parker gave the baker a contemptuous glare and gestured to the dozens of trays filling the racks. "Get going." She rounded on Her Majesty's maids.

"Priscilla, make sure the sheets on Her Majesty's bed are fresh ones and put extra towels in the bath. Olivia, clear a bit of room in the casual closet and a drawer in the tallboy and bath vanity. Mr. Joseph will need space to put his things for the night. You can rearrange to suit them later."

"Yes, Miss Parker," the two lady's maids chimed in unison before hurrying away. The dragon-lady cast a sharp eye over the flower arrangements. Behind a huge potted plant, the floral designer shuddered.

"There should be more roses," she murmured, her eyes narrowing.

"Miss, I can have a fresh cut rose and fern spray on each table- not from Her Majesty's garden, but from a florist in Pyrus," Manuel, the head gardener, offered quietly. "A short, round vase would look best, I think," he added, waiting for her approval.

Miss Parker took a long look at the sun-bronzed man, his glossy black hair slicked back, just barely touching his collar, and at the sharp cut of muscles under his rolled up sleeves. An eyebrow rose. She smiled. "An excellent idea," she said, not entirely referring to the roses. Manuel nodded, giving her a small bow of acknowledgement, and walked toward the door. Miss Parker's gaze lingered on his lean backside as he did, her smile widening. "Most excellent, indeed!"


"I stopped by the queen's suite," Joseph explained, as he stepped into one leg of his tuxedo pants then the other. "It was filled with an inordinate number of women giggling and whispering, so I thought it best to…"

"Escape?" Shades offered. They were in a short lull of activity after the private, late luncheon and before guests began arriving for the evening's formal reception, so the agents had gathered in the basement headquarters to grab a quick bite and double-check their assignments.

"Yes. Exactly," he agreed, hooking his suspenders to his trousers. He reached for his cummerbund. "Retreat is sometimes the better part of valor where women are concerned. Besides, all my clothes are here."

When the laughter died, Shades cleared his throat. "Boss, we're really pleased for you and Queen Clarisse."

"Thank you," Joseph replied.

"Been a long time coming!" Anton added. The others nodded agreement.

Buttoning his shirt, Joseph shrugged. "She's a lady worth waiting for."

There was a murmur of consensus, with Lionel's voice rising above the others. "Yeah, it's been so long that all the dates in the betting pool had passed except one," he chirped brightly, pleased to be adding to the men's conversation. For some unknown reason, he had found he wasn't often allowed in the men's conversations,.

Joseph's hands stilled, the ends of his tie dangling at his throat. "Betting pool?" he asked carefully, his gaze raking across the group of men. They all looked away, anywhere but at Joseph.

"Uh…You see, sir…It was like this…" several voices ventured.

Joseph peered at Lionel just long enough. Under the intense stare of Colonel Joseph Coraza, about whom Lionel, in his short stay at the palace, had heard dozens of exciting tales, the boy hurriedly explained.

"It was a pool to predict when you and the queen would…" Lionel wagged his head from side to side and grinned. "…you know!"

"Would what?" Joseph asked slowly.

"Well, when you'd get married. Kind of like the bets about how many propositions you'd get from women at a ball or a reception." The other agents groaned, but Lionel was warmed up now; he'd never had the chance to discuss such manly things, and everyone's attention was completely on him. He laughed. "Oh, man! It is so cool!"

Despite himself, Joseph had to ask why.

"I mean, here you are, an old guy," Lionel explained, his voice cracking and jumping an octave in his excitement, "and the women -young ones!- are still hitting on you." He shook his head. "Amazing!" He laughed again, his expression one of pure admiration and awe.

To a man, the palace security staff tossed their badges on the table and started removing their weapons, fully expecting to be fired on the spot.

A smile tugged at the corner of Joseph's mouth as he deftly looped his tie over and under. He allowed just a hint of pride to color his words as he replied, "There must be a good reason why- don't you think?"

There was a moment of surprised silence before the room echoed with laughter. Shades grabbed Lionel by the neck and held him in a death grip. "You and I need to talk later," he growled through gritted teeth that almost looked like a grin. He pushed Lionel as far away from Joseph as possible.

"I would appreciate it, however," Joseph continued, "if no one mentioned that to my wife…and if there were no further betting on my personal activities." The group nearly fell over themselves assuring him there wouldn't be.

"Now, I believe you all have positions to take?" He silently bid Shades to stay as the agents filed out of the room, dragging Lionel with them.

"Sir, I'm very sorry," Shades said earnestly, as soon as the door swung shut. "No harm was meant."

"Who won?"

"Well, Anton won the pot at the last ball. He edged out Pearson when the Countess Du-"

Joseph waved a hand impatiently. "No, I mean the wedding."

Shades smiled broadly. "I did, sir."

"You bet the very latest month possible? Why?"

Shades shifted from one foot to the other. "The latest year, sir."

Pulling his jacket from the hanger, Joseph rolled his eyes.

"See," Shades hurriedly explained, "I knew there was a very strong attraction between you and the queen- it was obvious to everyone."

Joseph brushed a piece of lint from the material and then slid an arm into a sleeve. "Go on."

"And, I knew you loved each other, but Her Majesty is very…dedicated to her role as sovereign. And you never appeared to put any pressure on her…you were simply her friend."

Joseph smiled as he shrugged on the black jacket.

Shades took a deep breath. "So, I figured it might be a long time before the two of you quit circling each other and-"

"I get the picture," Joseph interrupted, holding up his hand. "Good observing…even if your subjects were myself and the queen."

Shades reddened, despite the lack of ire in Joseph's words.

Joseph checked his watch then clipped on his waist holster and gun without thinking. "I should go see if the queen is ready for the reception. Stay close- and keep that mop-haired disaster away from us."

"Yes, sir, I will." Shades answered, deciding Lionel was best used guarding the kitchen entrance. "Uh, sir, do you think it necessary to wear…" He gestured to the gun.

This time it was Joseph's turn to be embarrassed. "I suppose," he answered slowly, "that it might not set the right tone for the bridegroom to wear a gun."

"Probably wouldn't," Shades agreed without a trace of humor, noting the former Head of Royal Security's expression.

"I've worn a gun for so long," Joseph said, taking off the holster, "every moment alert for any threat..." He placed the gun on the desk, his hand remaining on the worn leather, and let his breath out in a rush. "I might still wear it on occasion, when out with Her Majesty."

"Sure. If you feel it necessary, I have no objections," Shades concurred. While he believed he had Joseph's trust, he knew that old routines were hard to change. His boss was going to have to make some major adjustments.

"Not that I don't have confidence in your abilities," Joseph continued sincerely, "it's just that I still feel responsible for her safety. And after all these years, always watching…"

"Understandable." Shades shrugged a shoulder.

"I'll try not to get in your way." Joseph smiled, shoving the weapon toward Shades. "Even so, if I am interfering with your security arrangements, don't hesitate to speak up."

"Fair enough," Shades answered, taking the gun and locking it up. Joseph knew the combination, so had access at any hour. He turned to face his former boss. "Sir, may the men take an opportunity to congratulate you and Her Majesty?"

"Yes, certainly. See that they do- and the rest of the staff as well. The queen- Clarisse would like that very much."

Shades opened the door for them then paused and turned to Joseph. "Sir, you always knew when your mike was on and we could hear the ladies, uh, hit on you…didn't you?"

Joseph grinned. "Well, I had to keep the respect of the young guys somehow, didn't I?"

Laughing, Shades followed Joseph down the hallway. "You certainly have that!"

Barely able to resist swaggering, Joseph went to find his bride.


But for his wife, the queen's apartment was empty when he returned. Clarisse was breathtaking in a shimmering deep blue gown, one she had worn to a ball two years before. He wondered if she knew it was his favorite. He said nothing, but stared at her.

"I'm sorry there were so many people in here earlier," Clarisse said haltingly, clasping her hands nervously. "When you left, I thought… Joseph, I hope you're not angry."

Slowly, Joseph crossed the room to take her hands in his, and then lifted them to his lips. His eyes darkened as they had in the carriage. "You are beautiful."

He lowered his head, barely brushing his lips against hers. "I seemed to have broken my promise about touching you," he whispered, his lips a breath away.

"Promises were made to broken," she countered softly. With an effort, he straightened.

"My dear, there are four hundred and sixty-seven guests waiting downstairs," he reminded her. "And as much as I want to stay here with you..." He kissed her again, quickly. "When we finally have time to ourselves…I don't want there to be any interruptions."

Clarisse sighed. "I suppose so," she reluctantly agreed, looking away, missing his satisfied grin.

"But, here's a promise I will make- and keep." Then, leaning close, he whispered soft words in her ear. Clarisse smiled and sighed again.


Charlotte glanced at her watch then at Shades and frowned. All the guests had arrived and were waiting for the newlyweds' entrance. A jovial King Gustav had offered to go upstairs and see what was keeping the couple. The trouble was Charlotte wasn't certain if he was serious or just joking- or what he would find, if he did.

Normally, if the queen were late, someone would go knock on the apartment door- usually herself. This time, however, there was no way she was going up there. Shades pointedly looked at his watch and lifted one eyebrow. Charlotte fought back a nervous giggle.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the queen and Joseph rounded the corner. Their clothes were unwrinkled and not a hair of the queen's hair was mussed, she noted. That, at least, would cut down on the speculation of why the couple was late.

"We are ready, Charlotte," the queen said, blushing as she met the younger woman's gaze despite her business-like tone. "You may have the doorman announce us."

"How should we announce Joseph, Your Majesty?" Charlotte asked looking first to Joseph then the queen. "Properly, he is now Prince Joseph."

Clarisse beamed at her husband. "You're quite correct, Charlotte. He certainly is."

Joseph shook his head. "No, I'm-"

"Or, we could use his military rank- Colonel Coraza," Charlotte offered. Thoughtfully, she tried out the sound of it. "Her Majesty and Colonel…"

Joseph held up a hand. "Really, I don't want-"

"We will use both!" Clarisse declared, ignoring her husband's protests.

Charlotte made a note of it and turned to walk away. "Very good. I'll inform-"

"No." Joseph's voice was low, but unyielding.

"But, my dear, you're-"

"I'm Joseph Coraza," he stated firmly. "Just that. Joseph Coraza."

The two women looked at each other.

Clarisse gave in and nodded. "Very well. Tell the staff we are ready, please."

Charlotte hurried away, and Shades went to take his place inside.

"I can't believe we are standing here together," Clarisse said, taking his arm, the realization hitting her that he would accompany her, not just follow.

"I have accompanied you to many balls, Your Majesty," Joseph replied somberly, in his best official voice.

"Yes, but this time I will enter on your arm, and not alone."

"True, my queen," he replied softly, touching her cheek. "And I won't have to watch you from afar, wishing I was holding you in my arms."

"Every time the door opened, Joseph, I knew you would be there, waiting. I always looked for you- did you notice?"

"I thought you were simply checking up on your Head of Security, my dear," he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"I knew you would be close by, watching over me." The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled.

"Any excuse to be near you."

She looked up at him, wondering how she could have denied her love for him for so long. "Stay with me, Joseph. This evening, I want only you."

"I will be at your side, my love," he answered softly, leaning towards her to seal his promise.

Just as he pulled his bride into a passionate kiss, mussing her hair, the doors flew open with a flourish.


The palace staff, which had waited years for the moment when their very own Joseph would enter with the queen on his arm, furtively crowded the edges of the doorways and stairs to get a glimpse. A whispered discussion raged among the lady's maids and housekeepers about how the couple would be announced. Finally, a hush fell over the ballroom as the doorman banged his staff three times.

"Announcing," he called out grandly as the doors swung open, his voice carrying to every corner of the room and beyond, "Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Coraza."

The staff nodded approvingly at the sight of the couple kissing and at the introduction. Not a technically correct introduction for a royal, but entirely appropriate, they all agreed. As for the kiss…it seemed Joseph was a man of many talents, without a doubt. In that moment, Miss Parker found the inspiration for her next book.

On the ballroom floor, everyone but security personnel bowed or curtsied as the couple entered the ballroom. Shades could barely contain a grin as the newlyweds passed him. He glanced at Charlotte; tears were spilling down her cheeks. Without a word, Shades pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and passed it to her.

"It's like a fairytale," she sighed between sniffs. Shades gave her a tolerant smile, and then moved to follow his queen and her husband.


After an evening of receiving hundred of wishes for happiness, dancing, and toasts by Gustav, Stefan, Prime Minister Motaz and a dozen others, Clarisse found her husband's arms around her just as the lights in the garden dimmed. In anticipation of the fireworks to come, the guests were milling about the garden paths as the Genovian Grand Orchestra began playing, filling the garden with glorious music. In the dim light, the newlyweds shared a tender kiss.

"This has been wonderful," she sighed, leaning against Joseph's chest, content.

"The night has only begun, my love," he whispered, pulling her away from the crowd, and up the steps. Behind them, a grinning Hans and Anton smoothly moved to block anyone following.

"Joseph! We can't just sneak away!" She glanced back to see if everyone was staring at their obvious getaway, but saw only the backs of the two huge guards.

"We most certainly can…and are," he replied firmly, leading her quickly through the open French doors and along the passageways. Sneaking away- at her age! Clarisse couldn't help but laugh. They did not run, but it was surely the quickest trip up the stairs she had ever made.

Entering their apartment, Joseph let go of her hand to shut the door. Clarisse moved to the center of the room, becoming conscious of the fact that they were alone. She touched the necklace of sapphires and diamonds at her throat nervously. Oh, really, Clarisse! You are not a young, inexperienced bride! But, that was exactly how she felt. With Rupert, there had not been passion; but, with Joseph… She lifted her gaze to her husband.

Leaning against the door, he was watching her. Slowly, he walked toward her, his gaze still locked with hers. Without a word, he took her in his arms and lowered his head to press his lips to hers, first gently and then more urgently. "Amor de mi corazon," he murmured, trailing kisses across her neck. "Love of my heart…. how I've longed to hold you."

His embrace and kisses were much more intimate than the closeness they had shared after wedding, and Clarisse suddenly realized she could touch him anywhere she desired. It was a heady feeling, as intoxicating as the chilled champagne they had sipped earlier. She hesitantly placed her hands on his chest and felt hard muscle underneath the stiff shirt of his tuxedo. Her hands slid down, to his sides…then further to his hips, pulling him tight against her.

"Now that you have me, don't ever let go," she demanded, as the light of red and gold fireworks flashed through the window.

"Never, my sweet. Never!"