Title: The Lady Doth Protest- The Eighth Day of the Lusty Month of May

Author: zephiey

Rating: T

Pairing: Rupert/Clarisse
Category: Romance

Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Princess Diaries and its characters are the property of Disney, Buena Vista, and Meg Cabot. I make no money from this work of fiction.

Summary: Rupert begins his courtship of a reluctant Clarisse.

The Lady Doth Protest

Rupert watched Lady Clarisse Gerard as she waltzed around the ballroom. She was beautiful, witty, intelligent and admired. There were few, Mabrey and his cronies notwithstanding, who after meeting her did not actively seek her company. She was kind, which made even the shyest comfortable, and she gave her whole attention to whomever she was speaking with. She was perfect, in every respect, and he had fallen in love with her. However, while he loved her, she held him in low regard. 'Who was he kidding', he thought. She hated his guts!

Although hate was perhaps too strong a word for what she felt towards him; strong dislike might be a better description. Regardless of how it was termed, Lady Clarisse definitely did not enjoy his person or company. This, if it had been any other woman, would not have been a problem. He would have simply shrugged, and moved on. Unfortunately, in this case, that was impossible. He was in love with her and had informed his parents that she was the one he was going to marry. Their Majesties were ecstatic, at least until he had informed them that one, he had not approached Lady Clarisse or her parents yet, and two- Lady Clarisse seemed to hate his guts.

King Anton coughed, to cover the laugh threatening to escape at his son's declaration. "That is unfortunate," he said.

"Extremely," agreed Queen Margaret, fighting the urge to giggle.

Rupert did not notice their amusement. Instead, he stared out his father's office window, deep in thought. By the time Rupert had finished speaking to his parents, Their Majesties were hard pressed to control their mirth. They had waited a few minutes after his departure before succumbing, their laughter filling the office. When they finally regained a measure of control, they agreed this situation would benefit their son.

"I do hope she doesn't break his heart," Queen Margaret said. For all her son's faults, he was a good man, a fine prince and capable of great love.

King Anton took his wife in his arms. Placing a soft kiss to her hair he replied, "She won't. But she will lead him a merry chase."

Margaret looked up at her husband. "As I led you?" she asked.

"Yes," Anton answered, capturing his wife's lips in a passionate kiss. His last thought concerning his son was if Lady Clarisse was anything like his Margaret, his son would be a very lucky man.

The waltz had finally ended. Rupert knew this was his chance. Excusing himself, he made his way over to Lady Clarisse, his progress accompanied by soft whispers. By the time he stopped behind Lady Clarisse, the whole of the ballroom was buzzing.

Clarisse knew the minute he stopped behind her. She had been watching Prince Rupert all evening. Secretly, of course. It would not do for him to realize she was watching him. She watched as he danced with woman after woman, performing his duty dances with aplomb and ease. She had watched as he danced with only three women more than once. One was Lady Nicole, his cousin. She was married to Lord Thomas Fallon, a childhood friend of Rupert's.

'His Highness Prince Rupert,' Clarisse chided herself. 'Not Rupert…His Highness…you have to stop calling him by his first name.'

The second was his mama, Queen Margaret. Clarisse liked Her Majesty. She was kind, considerate and witty. Clarisse was never nervous when she spoke to her. In fact, Clarisse often had to remind herself she was the Queen. Clarisse was so comfortable with her she found herself talking to her as she did her own mother. The first time she had spoken to Queen Margaret like that Clarisse had been mortified. But Her Majesty had simply laughed delightfully, squeezed Clarisse's hand and told her she loved Clarisse being comfortable enough with her to address her as she would her own mother.

Clarisse was extremely careful never to address Her Majesty informally in public or in the presence of anyone other than His Majesty. Not even Rupert knew of their weekly teas, something that surprised Clarisse. Rupert was often in residence when she met his mama for tea but she never encountered…'Prince Rupert, Clarisse…or His Highness…not Rupert,' she corrected herself, again. Would she ever refer to him as anything other than Rupert?

The third was Lady Amanda, his godmother, better known as The Dragon, a moniker that fit the older woman. She was outspoken, cared little for most of the Genovian Parliament- she referred to them as self-important twits- and for some odd reason had taken an instant liking to herself. Clarisse still found it odd Lady Amanda liked her.

Clarisse took a breath, clasped her hands together in front of her and turned, calm and composed to face Rupert.

"Lady Clarisse, may I have this dance?" Rupert asked, smiling.

Clarisse knew she could not refuse. To refuse a dance with His Highness Prince Rupert would be rude, not to mention social suicide. Knowing she simply could not say no, a fact Clarisse knew Rupert was well aware of, she smiled sweetly in response, the smile never reaching her eyes. "Of course Rup...," began Clarisse, before clearing her throat and finishing with, "Your Highness."

Rupert fought the smile that threatened at her almost use of his first name. 'Evidently, she didn't dislike him as much as he thought.'

Rupert led her onto the dance floor, and the first strains of Genovia's traditional dance filled the air. Clarisse shot a glare at Rupert, which he responded to by smiling. He had planned this, she realized.

'Oh… how she hated him!'

They danced the traditional dance and before she could escape Rupert's presence he swept her into the waltz immediately following.

Clarisse did her best to appear as if she was enjoying her waltz with Rupert, but it took all her considerable acting skills, which were severely limited to do so. Rupert knew Clarisse was not happy dancing a second dance with him, and so he did not fight the temptation to waltz her toward the terrace doors. Stopping at them, Rupert tucked Clarisse's arm into his, and keeping a tight grip on her hand forced her to accompany him out onto the terrace and down into the garden.

Clarisse followed, fuming the whole way. Short of yanking her arm and hand away from Rupert, and causing a scene doing so, she had little choice but to follow him. However, once they reached the garden, out of sight and sound of the ballroom, the guests and his parents she would give him a piece of her mind!

Reaching a private section, as private as can be with security personnel stationed about, in the garden, Rupert relinquished his hold on Clarisse's hand and stepped back to wait. His wait did not last long.

"How dare you," seethed Clarisse. "How dare you force me to accompany you to the garden! Now everyone will think…"

"Think what?" asked Rupert.

"Think that you and I…that we are… that…," Clarisse spluttered angrily.

"That we are enjoying an assignation in the garden," offered Rupert.

"Yes!" fumed Clarisse.

"Would that be so bad?" asked Rupert.

"With you? Yes," seethed Clarisse.

"Why?" asked Rupert. He was enjoying this. Clarisse was even more beautiful when she was angry. Rupert was fascinated watching her.

"Because… because…," stammered Clarisse, trying to think of a reason why. Suddenly, she latched onto a reason and blurted it out. "Because you are an ass," she said, before whirling around angrily.

Rupert's laughter filled the quiet air of the garden. Reaching out for Clarisse, he turned her around, pulled her to him and bent his head toward hers. "The lady doth protest too much," he said just before his lips captured hers in a devastating kiss.

Clarisse tried to struggle. She truly did, but the feel of Rupert's lips on hers, of his arms holding her tightly and his hands caressing her back eroded all her protests. She simply surrendered to his kiss, revelling in the sensations that Rupert evoked. When he finally ended the kiss minutes later, Rupert looked down into the face of Clarisse, her eyes closed and a dreamy expression on her face. That changed almost immediately when Clarisse realized Rupert had stopped kissing her.

Angry at herself for succumbing to his kiss, Clarisse reacted in a manner that was unusual for her. She stomped on the top of Rupert's foot with her heel, and pushed him away. He landed on his arse in the damp grass. Not bothering to see if he was fine, Clarisse stalked away angrily.

Rupert sat on the grass, rubbing his foot, watching Clarisse stalk away, an idiotic besotted smile on his face. Evan, one of the guards stationed in the garden, who had witnessed the entire episode, walked over to His Highness and offered a hand up.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" asked Evan, once Rupert regained his feet.

"I'm fine Evan," replied Rupert, limping from the pain of Clarisse's well-placed heel to the top of his foot. "You saw?"

A short nod answered his question.

"I'm going to marry her," Rupert said to the older guard. Evan nodded once again. He was not sure what he was supposed to say to that announcement.

"But first," began Rupert, "I am going to invest in a few pairs of thick boots."

"That might be best sir," answered Evan, as he helped His Highness back to the terrace.

The End