Chapter 13
Her bosom against my chest.
The taste of wine on her lips.
Her hand at the nape of my neck...
Lying in bed alone I replayed the scene of our first kiss including the moment when she'd broken it. I'd feared to hear words of regret and it was with reluctance that I'd opened my eyes.
A look of love had lightened her beautiful face.
It had made me moan.
She'd risen, extending her hand: ´Let's dance.´
She'd initiated a foxtrot. I'd been glad for it: too much physical contact might ruin the romantic mood we were in. This time she hadn't looked away from my admiring glances. There was a promise in her eyes, in her blush. I sensed that it was too soon for the promise to be fulfilled, but when I kissed her goodnight, as was my habit, that kiss was no longer chaste.
I fell asleep with a smile on my face but the next morning I started to worry. I'd had sweet dreams, but she might have tossed and turned in bed, wishing she'd acted differently. Daylight has a habit of making people see things from a different perspective.
When it was time for our Latin class, I took my note-book and a pencil but I couldn't find the book. It annoyed me for today of all days I couldn't be late. I didn't want her to think that I was sorry for our kiss, that I was weary of her company. There was a knock on the door.
´Enter,´ I cried out, ´Leclerc, where's the Latin book?´
´You're cold...´
I turned around sharply.
With her hands behind her back Clarisse closed the door.
´You're getting warmer,´ she said as I approached her.
The twinkle in her eyes made me grin like a moron.
She smiled knowingly and showed me the book she held. ´I asked Mr Leclerc to get it for me. But rest assured: I only used it for repetition. We are on the same level.´
I took her free hand.
´We are, aren't we?´ I said, not referring to our Latin class.
She turned serious and nodded, pressing my hand.
We stared into each other's eyes.
It wasn't until Leclerc knocked on the door that we seated ourselves.
As we noted down new verbs the air between us sizzled with anticipation. Something needed to happen to relieve the tension. Perhaps I might tell her about the interview?
OoOoOoO
Twelve years and some weeks ago a drug addict swayed a knife near King Rupert. Though the attacker claimed not to have wanted to hurt anyone, a guard was rushed to hospital in vain. Clarisse had visited the young man's grave every year on his dying day. She would never have expected a reward for that: comforting his kin was all she hoped to do. As of yet she didn't know that the guard's father had contacted a local rag. It had resulted in an interview, which had also made its way to the rag's internet page.
My hiking tour had not stopped me from executing my daily tasks, one of them being to check the world wide web for news about the lost Queen of Genovia. I'd initiated for the mourning father to be interviewed by a local broadcaster after which I let things runs their course.
As it happened things run into an MP. Living in the same area as the late guard's father he'd seen the broadcast and he had mentioned it to a journalist from an esteemed paper as proof that only the dumb and naive spoke for the Queen. This act was proof of his own stupidity: the journalist had written an article about the interview, and as a result thousands of people had seen the broadcast on the internet. The guard's father was a homely man and he had not been gifted with a silver tongue. It made the whole thing very authentic.
OoOoOoO
Clarisse was reading aloud a text about Roman citizenship and I stopped her by kissing her.
´I love to hear you talk,´ I whispered.
´So why do you seek other employment for my lips?´ she softly replied. I didn't have time to answer her: she cupped my face and kissed me. Thus ended our class.
In the cause of the day I made some calls to find out how the interview had been received. My sister is one of Her Majesty's subjects who like to rely on other people's opinions. She'd believed her big brother when he'd stated that the Queen was innocent, so in that respect she didn't represent the average Genovian. I was curious to learn what she'd thought of the interview.
´He's the first in a long time who said she's innocent. Of course you said that too Andy, but he said so on TV. My friend Bernice says that he has no reason to lie. I guess she meant to say that you do, because you're the Queen's friend and all. She just felt like insulting me I guess, because she then said that the guard's father looked genuine. As if you aren't genuine! Well, I just won't invite her for my coming dinner party. Have you seen that man looking at the camera as if it was going to eat him? Haha! But is was moving,´ Val checked herself. ´Oh, that poor man. Losing your son, and he was so young. If one of my boys would... Oh no, I don't even want to think about it!´
I heard a sound in the background and I knew that Val was knocking on wood. I let her chat about losses, knowing that eventually she'd return to the subject on hand. ´And as that man stood by his son's grave, which had a lovely headstone by the way, I wonder whether the royal family paid for that? Anyway, I realised that she had lost her husband and her son. And now this! I told everyone I know about the interview so they will hear that the Queen is a kind compassionate lady who wouldn't hurt a soul.´
My cousin wasn't pleased with the broadcast: ´Some people are dumb enough to believe that idiot,´ he complained. ´He reasoned that because that woman told him she was grateful that his son had saved the King's live, she couldn't have killed him herself later on. I mean!´
Charlotte Kutaway sounded as if she was on the verge of a breakdown. ´I was so glad someone finally stood up for her,´ she told me, ´Why didn't I do that? I feel horrible for just sitting here, working for her son as if nothing happened.´
´I think she would be happy to learn that you're the prince's aid,´ I assured her.
´The prince had his mentor come over from the abbey. And then there's Mabrey and his ilk. I can't influence the prince sir... I don't have any proof that she didn't do it, apart from just knowing that she didn't. Even Joe hadn't found evidence who had killed His Majesty so how am I suppose to find it?´
´You're the conscience of the Castle Charlotte,´ I told her.
She didn't reply.
´How did Her Majesty's servants respond to the interview?´
´Some of them recalled aloud how she personally picked the roses for the young guard's grave. They're talking about her again.´
The royal servants weren't the only ones who now recalled that once upon a time they had a beloved Queen. In a few days' time the support for the guard's father's words rose from sixteen to twenty-five percent, though a small number of the posters merely acknowledged that the Queen hadn't always been evil.
Where would it lead to?
Since plotting Romero's death the idea of helping Clarisse to return to her country had entered my mind. The small advertisements reading 'she is innocent' I had placed in local Genovian papers would not very likely result in Clarisse taking possession of her throne. Should she become Queen regent again the adds would serve to silently prove that I'd supported her even before I'd became her lover. The TV interview with the guard's father was another cup of tea. When I'd arranged for it I had acted on impulse. I wasn't going to scold myself for that though: the timing had been right and I might as well allow myself to be spontaneous when it concerned her. I need not be afraid that I was losing my wits for most of the time my mind worked in ways not befitting a romantic lover.
OoOoOoO
We were watching an old James Bond film. I loved the way Clarisse comfortably settled herself against me. I loved caressing her upper arm with my fingers. I loved her ironic comments on 007's actions. I loved the fact that the adventures made her laugh.
´These past months I came to love you,´ I softly lied, ´For years we'd been friends though I think you know that I had a bit of a crush on you.´
She softly chuckled because of my teenage phrasing. I moved my arm around her waist, resting my hand on her hip.
´Ever since... you know... I came to admire your strength. And one day I realised that I – a private man- had come to love your daily presence.´
Perhaps one day it would be convenient if she realised that a man who loves might be capable of a lot of things to conquer his love whereas a man having a crush merely visits his beloved as often as he can, bringing her presents and flowers.
Clarisse placed a hand on my arm.
´I think there was no way not to love you after I read the birthday present you wrote me,´ I continued.
´Really? Why?´
´It moved me Clarisse.´
She shifted to look at me. A lover stared back at her. She swallowed hard and cupped my cheek. There was an explosion on the TV screen, but neither she nor I cared. I gently pulled her toward me.
Holding and kissing Clarisse... I could do it all day long. My hands longed to be glued to her shoulders, her waist, her back. My lips wanted to caress her skin.
Had she reminded me in between kisses about my promise to allow her to roam the yacht, I might have said: ´Right now´ without giving it a thought. I was glad that it was not her style to take advantage of a situation. She had brought up the subject during lunch and though I'd enjoyed the way the sunlight had danced on her hair I'd calmly said that I would make arrangements.
Once I allowed my love free access to Triple V I would have to prevent my crew from contacting the outside world. The fact that the Genovian Queen had found refuge aboard my yacht should remain a secret for now.
OoOoOoO
Two days later on twenty-eight point seven percent of those who'd commented the TV broadcast agreed with the guard's father. Things moved slowly in Genovia. Aboard Tripple V I found myself in a current: my caresses had become bolder and my darling had not stopped me.
Any day now I would be able to open my best bottle of cognac.
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Author's note: in the coming chapter Andre will prepare the crew for the revealation of the Queen's presence. He continues to court his beloved Clarisse.