Ohhh and it gets worse before it gets better! Please don't hate me, or Joseph for that matter. He has it reasons they're just difficult to explain...

Part 2

Joseph was used to waking alone now, in fact he'd fallen into a routine. Many nights he would stay up late reading or watching television, a pastime he never usually indulged in, then he'd wake late into the morning. Clarisse as always would be up and around early, walking Maurice, dealing with any issues that had arisen the previous day before continuing with her usual schedule. Only this morning when he turned over she was watching him, on her side, one hand tucked beneath her face so she could see him clearly. He hesitated before speaking, the previous nights events creeping in as sleep cleared.

"Morning."

"Hello." She sounded alright; calm enough, so he continued.

"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday. If I caused you any problems..."

"The 'problems' i can deal with, I'm used to dealing with other people's problems. What i can't deal with is the fact you're obviously keeping something from me."

He turned onto his back, hoping to avoid her gaze.

"I know it hasn't been easy so far, but we both knew the changes would be huge and the adjustment period a little rocky."

"I never said anything was wrong."

"You think I can't tell when you're keeping something from me Joseph, I've known you for long enough now. Why don't you just talk to me, I could help..."

He sat up abruptly as she reached for his hand. "Nothing is wrong. I told you, I'm fine, just... just feeling a little useless that's all. I'll snap out of it." He dropped his legs out of bed and was about to get up when she moved behind him resting a hand on his shoulder.

"You can come to me, you know that don't you."

"Yes, I know."

He said nothing more and disappeared into the bathroom for a shower, the last thing he wanted was to drop his feelings of inadequacy onto her shoulders. He'd never been the one who wasn't in the driving seat, he'd never felt weak in his life - it was something he wasn't used to and he was sure as hell struggling to get through it.

Clarisse came to speak with him as he stood beneath the hot water, letting it unfold his muscles and quiet his mind.

"Joseph..."

"Yes."

"I have to go now, my first meeting is at 10."

"Your first meeting?"

"I have a few planned, I was going to suggest lunch together but, well, I've been scheduled in already."

"It's alright, I'll occupy my time I'm sure."

"I'm sorry, you could come along, if you wanted..."

"Not a great idea after last night do you think."

"Possibly not," he sensed a smile in her voice. "Why don't you relax and enjoy your day of freedom and I'll see you later tonight."

"That late?"

"I should be back for 6:30, 7 at the latest."

"Right, ok, well, have a good day darling." he tried to sound sincere but somehow the thought of her going off and attending to all these things without him there watching over her was a little disconcerting.

"Alright, you too." She had hoped for a kiss goodbye, which obviously wasn't forthcoming.

Joe ate breakfast in the lounge downstairs, surrounded by the rich and famous, though he was hard pressed to name any of them. Still he couldn't fault the food and he rather enjoyed sitting there listening to all those upper class gents with their morning papers and proper English accents. Perhaps in time he would get used to this way of life afterall, decadence, luxury, no worries, no pressing engagements or big decisions to make, other than organising his new sock drawer of course.

The offer had been there for him to visit The Houses of Parliament, which he decided to do mid-morning. Sitting in the Lords and listening in on the drawling of old men he found more interest in taking in his surroundings. So much gold, so much history, he had the guide book on his lap and read about what he was seeing. Though nowhere in the guide could he find a reference for men who fell to sleep or those who arrived late, stayed for ten minutes and then disappeared again. Perhaps there was a different guidebook for them.

He soon bored of it all anyway, sure it was historic and monumental but when you don't follow another countries laws as closely as your own it becomes a little difficult to keep track of what was happening. He left after an hour or so and ventured back out into the cold London streets, at least the rain had ceased. The city moved at an amazing speed, everywhere he turned there was traffic queuing and people rushing, usually he would have been part of the rush, not a casual observer. Deciding to have a coffee he located a Starbucks and made the most of the warmth, sitting and flicking through the paper as he drank.

They'd been home a week and still he was on a high, some natural buzz that he got simply by saying to himself, "She's my wife." He'd actually never dared to even dream that it could happen, that the future he wanted so badly would occur. Some part of his mind still wanted to pinch himself each and every morning, just to be sure it was true, it was now his reality.

Stretching in Clarisse's oversized bed – he had yet to think of it as his own – he looked up at the embroidered drapes, the heavy wood panelling across the bed, the attention to the smallest detail, the bed of royalty. He wondered how old it was and how many Kings had roughly taken their wives in the hopes of producing royal heirs. How often had this bed actually witnessed real lovemaking, not procreation? It was thoughts like this that would get him into trouble, he never mentioned it to her, she was sensitive enough as it was about her less than exciting sexual past without him bringing up the subject of the bed's memory.

He happily got up and headed for the bathroom aware of water running and Clarisse's voice. She had taken to humming in the shower, sometimes even a full song complete with the wrong words, but usually she just hummed. He liked it; it reassured him and got the day off to a good start. He made it into the room without her noticing and stripped himself of his trousers before creeping up behind her, opening the shower room door and stepping in. A hand on her back and she screamed into the water, coughing and spluttering as he expertly turned her around.

"Joseph, what are you doing in here... people will talk."

He pressed her back against the wall, cupping her waist and holding her as close to his body as possible. "Let them talk." His kiss was long and slow and she moaned into his mouth almost immediately. They'd been home a week and she'd avoided making love to him, being back on royal ground had lessened her appetite somewhat – or made her more aware of herself. It was time to remind her just how good the honeymoon had been.

"Sir... Sir!"

A hand gripped Joe's shoulder and shook him out of his reverie. "Sorry." He mumbled.

"I said would you like anything else only we're closing soon."

Looking around and noticing the café was empty Joe shook his head somewhat embarrassed. He hastened to stand and quickly pulled his coat around him, throwing a couple of notes down on the table.

"Sir you don't owe any money."

"Think of it as a tip." He retorted with a wink before quickly leaving.

As he approached the hotel he knew instantly something was wrong. The doorman, a Scottish man of about Joe's age, came rushing towards him as soon as he turned the corner.

"Sir, I thought I should inform you, her Majesty..."

"What about her?" Joe gripped the man's arm. "Is she alright?"

"She's fine but she was, well there was an incident earlier."

He didn't stop to hear anymore and raced past him, the lifts were occupied so he took the stairs. He still thought of himself as fit but running up that many flights of stairs would be hard going for anyone. When he burst into the suite he found two gentlemen in suits chatting with Toby in the lounge.

"Where is she?" He breathed, realising he must look a real sight with his red cheeks and haggard expression.

Toby indicated the office and in he went. She was sitting quietly by the window, china cup in hand.

She glanced up calmly at him as he hurried towards her. "Joseph dear you look terrible, have you been running?"

He went to his knees and took her hands. "I thought something was wrong, they told me..." He tried to breathe evenly. "They told me there was some incident."

"Mmm." She nodded her head and gently rested a hand on his shoulder. "No need to worry though."

"No need to worry – what is this damn 'incident' and who are those men?"

"Policeman, it's silly really." She put her teacup down. "I was leaving the restaurant earlier today, and I left my bag inside, Toby went to collect it and I went to the car. I was at the door already and it was a step away and this man – he must have recognised me. Well he, erm, approached me shall we say."

"Approached?"

"Got a little too close for comfort."

"What? Where the hell was George?"

"Right behind me, a step away, got caught up at the door. It was my fault I rushed ahead and didn't think and this man just said a few odd things and held my arm and then George leapt at him and he ran. Which is how he broke his leg."

"Who?" Joe could feel the anger just waiting to boil over.

"George, had to be taken to hospital."

"So you were attacked and you've spent the afternoon here with laughing boy out there who couldn't protect a peanut."

She had to laugh.

"Clarisse this isn't funny."

"I'm sorry dear but yes you're right, he isn't very good. Awfully willing to please though, still only his second day."

"Second day! I told you we needed more security."

"Joseph there are only the two of us here."

"One, I can protect myself." He got up abruptly. "Nobody thought I might like to be informed."

"We didn't know where you were."

"And this guy who touched you, where is he now?"

She shrugged and returned her gaze to the window.

"You're telling me you don't know, he got away."

"I told you George tripped and broke his leg, well I think its his ankle. Anyhow Antoine was really very good and organised everything..."

"Who the hell's Antoine?" Was it only him who was getting frustrated!

"Chef at the restaurant, he's been there for years, lovely man – excellent salmon rolls."

"Fuck George's leg and fuck Antoine's salmon rolls."

"I don't care for your choice of language."

Joe was about to launch into a tirade but stopped when there was a cough behind him.

"Your majesty." A young well-groomed man stood at the door.

"Yes officer." She replied standing up. "You'll have to excuse my husband, he's a little upset by it all." She touched Joe's arm as she passed him.

"Understandable. We've finished here now Ma'am, thank you for all your help."

"Oh you're very welcome."

"We will do our best to apprehend the fellow, officers are doing street to street searches now and witnesses have come forward." The young man was visibly shaking before her. She placed a reassuring hand on his arm to calm him somewhat.

"Thank you, I'm sure you'll do a fine job." She smiled in that grand way she had and Joe turned away, even more annoyed now than he was before.

"Well, shall we have some more tea?" She said turning back to him.

"Tea?" Joe shook his head and shrugged his jacket off. "I think I need a shower."

Clarisse turned again in bed and tugged at the sheets collecting around her body. Sighing she threw them off and stared up at the ceiling, she couldn't sleep and if she didn't sleep she'd look terrible tomorrow and if she looked terrible tomorrow on the press call with Prince Andrew then what the hell...

Perhaps she'd read for a while, that always made her eyes feel heavy. Sitting up and turning on the lamp she plumped a pillow for her back and searched for her glasses. It occurred to her that she could no longer hear the television, when she'd left Joseph over an hour ago he was watching some crazy film that left her head spinning. Car chases and fast action she could do without. Deciding to find him and perhaps order herself some warm milk she put on her robe and went out into the lounge.

It was empty, as was the office and the bathroom and the dining room. She panicked just for a second, a split second, when she noticed the entrance door to the suite was ajar but then she clearly made out Joseph's voice – a very angry voice as it turned out.

Quickly she pushed the door fully open and found Joseph with Toby held up against the wall, his fist gathering the shirt under the young man's throat and almost lifting him from the ground with it.

"You should god damn protect her, that's your job..."

"Joseph!" She shouted, glad their suite was the only one on this floor.

He turned quickly to face her, registered the shock on her face and dropped the boy. She stepped back and leant against the door holding it open as he skulked past her, never daring to catch her eye.

Somewhat shaken by the scene for once Clarisse struggled to find composure. Tightening her robe she levelled her gaze at Toby as best she could and took a deep breath.

"Why don't you go take an hour, no two, for yourself, have something to eat – try and relax."

"Ma'am." He nodded, relief flooding his face.

"Oh, I thought you did very well today, difficult for a trainee." She said curtly before turning inside the room and closing the door.

Mentally preparing herself for the inevitable argument that was about to follow she stopped for a second and rested her hand on the back of the couch, taking a few deep calming breaths. She wasn't used to this, she'd never witnessed Joseph's anger before, she'd heard years ago he could have a temper but never, never had she seen it.

"Well, are you going to chastise me?"

His voice broke into her thoughts harsh and deep.

When she slowly lifted her head to look at him she was stunned by the hardness she found to his expression.

"There was no need for that, no need at all."

"He should do his job."

"He's been with me for two days, he doesn't even know exactly what his job is."

"To protect you, at all costs, nothing less."

"And he did that, for goodness sake Joseph he's just a boy, you scared him to death."

"Maybe he'll learn."

"You think ripping his throat off will help him learn?"

"I hardly ripped his throat off."

"Only because I was there. What's wrong with you?" She was doing her level best to keep her voice under control as she moved closer to him.

"You could have been seriously hurt, you know that."

"But I wasn't, and I already told you it wasn't their fault it was mine."

He turned from her as she got closer.

"So if you want to blame anybody then blame me, it's what you want to do anyway isn't it – this is all my doing."

He swung round and gripped her wrists in his hands, his eyes met hers and he let go again.

She could have let him go then but she didn't, instead she followed him through the dining room and watched as he fiddled with the lock on the balcony doors.

"What are you doing?" She finally asked.

"I need some air."

"Why won't you talk to me, this isn't just about today, there's more to it."

"Bloody thing." He said shaking the door.

"It's me isn't it – something I've done, or haven't done..."

He chose to ignore her questions.

"Joseph... "She went towards him again and reached for his arm. "Joseph." Her voice was soft, attempting to ease the tension.

"Don't, I can't do this now. I need some space."

Her block fell and the rage came to the surface. "What has happened to you?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." He spat, shrugging off her hold on his arm and stalking out of the room.

He wasn't prepared for the vase that hurtled across the room and splintered on the wall in front of him.

"That was probably very expensive – but I suppose you can afford it." He was digging a deeper hole but right then it seemed easier to fight with her than turn around and beg for forgiveness.

"How dare you!" She was shaking violently, torn between wanting to throttle the man or simply have him make it all better.

"Queen's aren't used to criticism I suspect."

Straightening herself and recalling her dignity she walked towards him. "I've taken plenty of criticism over the years, but never from my husband."

"Then I guess Rupert was a better man than I."

"I would never compare you, how could you think that?"

The truth was he never had thought that, but at the moment he was seizing at anything he could find to throw at her sensibilities.

"You shouldn't have done it Clarisse, you have more sense than that, you shouldn't have put yourself in that position. Haven't you had enough years to realise it isn't safe everywhere you turn." His voice was softening, his anger not.

"This isn't about today, this is about something more. Don't you think I deserve to know."

"There's nothing to know." He dropped onto the couch.

"Then don't you think that maybe I would like a little comfort after a day like this."

"You never ask me for anything."

"Fine, then to hell with you Joseph."

"And to hell with you too." He shouted as she slammed the bedroom door shut.

After a few minutes he got up from the couch and found a waist bin, collecting up every piece of fine china he scooped it into the bin before stripping his clothes off and finding a blanket.

"A night on the couch then old man." He said to himself as he closed his eyes, the banging in his head started instantaneously.

!!!I told you it would get worse!!!