A/N OK, finally another chapter! This one took a bit longer to write, mainly because I've had to plan out the whole story, and all the plot lines before beginning this one, just to make sure they all fitted! I'm afraid it's going to be tough sailing for the next few chapters (hence me playing with Ain't Misbehavin' to lighten the mood!!) but, I promise, it will all be hugs and kisses again soon. Thanks for your wonderful reviews – they are THE best incentive to keep going ;o)

Aware of how tired Amelia and herself would be upon arrival in Genovia, Clarisse had changed her mind about their arrival arrangements in Genovia and pre-arranged for there to be no official welcome or press conference at the airport. Instead, Amelia would be introduced to the Genovian public at the end of the week, starting with a visit to parliament, and a photo call afterwards. Sitting back in the limousine, her head resting on the cool leather, she sighed with relief. As much as she relished her role as queen, occasionally it was good to postpone duty. She slipped her shoes off, and stretched out her feet a little. She'd always hated flying, for as long as she could remember, and the relief she felt upon arrival always tended to make her a little drowsy.

This time, Joseph and Amelia were travelling together and, for once, she was relishing the solitude. The privacy screen was up, and she yawned loudly, screwing up her eyes. Her back was still a little stiff, and she squirmed around rather ungraciously, trying to get comfortable. Turning up the air conditioning a notch, she slumped back in the seat. As the car wound through the Genovian countryside, in the evening light, she looked out through the one-way glass. She was humming to herself, thoroughly contented, pleased to be home.

All in all the trip had gone better than her wildest expectations. Amelia, despite her occasional moments of clumsiness was every bit the beautiful young lady she had hoped to find. She had learnt fast and shown true courage. Best of all, she had forgiven her for the years of absence. Clarisse was so proud of her.

And then there was Joseph. They had arrived as friends, each as cautious and guarded as the other. They had burnt each other so very badly, caused scars they had both believed too deep to heal, that friendship had been all they had dared to hope for. She saw that now. For months they had danced around each other in an elaborate waltz, neither willing to truly open themselves again the danger. The words had already all been spoken. And yet they had chosen to grow deaf.

And then he had taken her hand, and they had danced together, for the first time in over a year. That night, they had both listened. That night, she thought, with a wry smile, she had not cried.

But now was not the time for such sombre thoughts of what might never have been, she scolded herself. They were together now, and it was enough. More than enough.

The cars arrived at the palace at around seven thirty, and, once Amelia had stopped bouncing, Clarisse gave her a tour of the main sections of the castle. Dismissing the immediate staff, and suggesting everyone take the evening off, she led her granddaughter around the private family quarters. In spite of her disapproving looks, truth be told she was as thrilled as Amelia by the whole thing, who simply couldn't see or touch enough. Leaving the new princess in her suite to settle in, and probably to try on every item of clothing in there, she chuckled to herself, Clarisse headed towards her own rooms.

As she washed her face, and put on a little light makeup, she was pleased to notice that Charlotte had clearly got there first, and that the maids had managed to unpack all her clothes. She found a pair of dark blue linen trousers and a simple, long-sleeved shift top. Hardly regal enough to open parliament in, but smart nonetheless, and they would do the business. Slipping into them quickly, she ran a hand through her hair, and headed for the door. Wandering down the corridors, it struck her how very claustrophobic the embassy in San Francisco had been in comparison. No wonder she had started to get cabin fever. Here she could wander around relatively undisturbed. Of course, she knew that cameras would be following her every step, but it was not the same. She didn't have to greet them, and ask how their children were. Not that she minded that, of course. But sometimes it was nice not to have to notice those around you.

Out through the doors of her study, she arrived in the gardens. The sun was just beginning to set, and the summer air was heady with the scent of roses. She was in heaven. She wasn't tired any more, indeed, if anything, she was invigorated. She walked through the rose garden, and out onto the great expanse of lawn. Then down to the trees, and around the pool that lay behind them. It always amazed her how quickly nature calmed her, how it made her forget herself. She loved this pool, it was deep and somehow majestic. White marble sculptures were arranged around its banks, and they reflected magically in the still water. In the dying sunlight, they took on an eerie glow, glistening red almost, as their crystals sparkled. She adored the sculptures, but, she reminded herself with a smile, it had not always been so…

After their meeting in the vaults, Joseph and herself had tried desperately to see more of each other without arousing suspicion. All of a sudden, her driver would have to be somewhere else, and Joseph would be called on to take his place; sometimes she would want to go riding, and since Joseph was the only competent horseman in the security team, it would be he who had to accompany her. Likewise, with surprising frequency Clarisse would find herself in need of a hot drink, long after the general palace staff had gone to bed, and would chance upon him in the private kitchen.

Little by little, Clarisse managed to convince her husband that she should know more about the running of the palace, and more and more, her instruction would require Joseph's presence. Indeed, the more she began to consider her days, the more she realised how little she saw of her husband. His routine was fine-tuned: breakfast at eight, then paperwork until eleven. Then he would hold meetings with various aides and diplomats, generally running into lunch. After eating, which he always preferred alone, he would retire to his private library and study, closing the door firmly behind him. Until around seven, then he would read and work by himself, mainly on historical research of his own family and their activities, but sometimes also on matters of state. At seven-thirty sharp, dinner was served. If there were guests, they would entertain, if not, they would talk about the day's events. Usually, he would wish her goodnight at around ten, kissing her cheek, and disappearing into his suite.

Almost every evening, around six o'clock, Clarisse would walk in the gardens and across the lawns. Emboldened by their meeting in the vaults, Joseph even suggested to King Rupert that she should be accompanied, for security reasons. He had agreed, and thought nothing more of it.

It was on one such evening stroll, about two months after their first proper assignation in the vaults, that she had led them down to the lake. It was summer then too, and the air was warm. There was no breeze, and the water of the lake was like a mirror. He had taken her hand in his own, and was stroking his thumb across hers, relishing the peace and quiet, a moment alone.

"Rupert's going to London next week, for a fortnight." Her voice was matter-of-fact, betrayal nothing.

"I know."

"You do?" She turned to look up at him, wondering how he could have known already. Rupert had only told her that morning.

"Mmm…" He slowed his step, gazing out over the water. "Isn't it beautiful this evening, so quiet." She smiled, moving to stand in front of him, taking his other hand.

"Don't change the subject." He looked at her now, and smiling back, dropped a quick kiss to her forehead, and pulled her into his chest.

"I'm not…" wrapping his arms around her as he protested his innocence.

She looped her arms round his neck and scrutinised his eyes,

"So how do you know?"

At this he grinned smugly, and, moving his face to within a centimetre of her own, whispered, seductively,

"Because, my love, I'm not going with him…and he wanted me to arrange security now, in advance."

"You're not going?" She too was whispering now,

"I'm not going…"

Although nothing further was said on the matter, they both realised what this meant, what it could mean. Opportunity.

They had walked in silence for a long time after that, circling the lake. After a while, Joseph had suggested they sit and watch the sunset, as it dropped down over the hills in the distance. He had sat on the grass, and she had lain with her head in his lap, his hand stroking her hair. As the oranges turned to deep reds, and then to pinks, he had asked her which sculpture she liked the best.

"To be entirely honest, I've never really understood the attraction of sculpture…I mean, I know that sounds desperately philistine, but I just don't understand it…"

She turned a little, to look up at him, worried perhaps that she'd disappointed him, only to find him smiling.

"How do you look at the sculpture, Clarisse?"

She smiled back, puzzled by his question.

"Um…in the usual way, with my eyes?"

He brought his hand down to rest on her cheek, caressing it lightly.

"And there we have the problem…you're looking at it in the wrong way."

She giggled, surely he was pulling her leg, "The wrong way….so, pray do tell, how might I look at it the right way?", her voiced laced with sarcasm.

He tutted softly at her flippancy, and slowly traced a line from her forehead, down her nose, and around her lips. "This, my dear, is how one should look at sculpture, with the hands…and with the heart. Every time you see it with your eyes, a sculpture should be speaking to your fingers, tempting them to reach out and caress it." His finger continued its slow journey across her features, as he spoke, "the light also caresses the sculpture, it dances with it, changing it."

She looked up into his eyes, her own a little teary from the beauty of his description, and she understood. And now sculpture was one of her passions too.

Rousing herself from her daydream, Clarisse wondered what time it was. She was beginning to get a little peckish and decided to head in the direction of the palace. Wandering back across the lawns she wondered where Joseph had got to. She knew that he had wanted to debrief all the security staff on arrival, and that that would have taken at least an hour, and then, most probably he would have gone to unpack. She hoped he would have tried to sleep, especially given he hadn't slept at all on the plane, but, knowing Joseph, it was unlikely. She wondered what would be the arrangements for this evening…in San Francisco it had all been so easy, no bad associations, less staff, more time…now it would be different. They would need to talk, she knew that, but she hoped, in the meantime, that they would slip once again into the routine that had become so comfortable abroad.

To her surprise, she found him sitting on a bench in the rose garden. He smiled as she approached.

"Your majesty"

She laughed in spite of herself at his overt formality,

"Joseph"

"Would you care to join me?" He shuffled across, making room for her next to him,

"I don't mind if I do." She laughed again, leaning in towards him slightly as she did. Their backs were to the palace and, safe in the knowledge they were out of sight, she brought her hand down to rest on his knee, stroking him gently.

"Did you have a nice walk?" He fought the urge to slip his arm around her, and contented himself with bringing his hand down to rest on hers.

"Mmm…very peaceful. I was thinking about you, actually…" He smiled, touched by her frankness.

"Really?"

"Yes. That evening when you educated me into the merits of sculpture. It was most…enlightening." She traced her fingers over the fabric covering his thigh. "What was it you said… every time you see it with your eyes, it should be speaking to your fingers, tempting them caress it?"

He swallowed, stilling her hand with his own, replying in a slightly husky tone, "Yes, my dear, I believe it was something alone those lines…"

"You see, I am a very attentive pupil…" Her innocent smile was betrayed by her voice, dripping as it was with sarcasm.

"Indeed."

She sat back in the seat, laughing, removing her hand and stretching both arms out in front of her. "Have you eaten, Joseph?"

"Yes actually" he replied proudly, "for once I actually managed it all by myself." She chuckled again, and, getting to her feet, straightened her shirt a little.

"I, on the other hand, have not…I think I'm going to go in search of Marcus. Do you want to come?"

He looked up, and then out across the gardens and sighed. "You know…if you don't mind, I think I might sit here at bit longer…it's so good to be back…I've really missed this place, you know" She smiled, understanding entirely his sentiment.

"Of course, darling…um…" for a moment she faltered, not quite sure how to ask. She looked up at him, relaxing when she saw he was smiling too. She took a deep breath, "Will I see you later?"

He nodded, tapping the cell phone in his pocket. "Just let me know…"

And with that she left in the direction of the kitchens.

He watched her walking across the remaining section of the garden, admiring not for the first time her posture and bearing. She was a queen…God, she even looked regal when she slept. Not, he thought with a smug smile, that the majority of her subjects would know that…

When she had entered the palace, he looked back out over the lawns. It was such a beautiful evening, so calm, so, so…unlike San Francisco. He remembered the last time he had sat on this bench, a week or so before they had left. How different things had seemed then… Yes, they had been friends, but nothing more. He hadn't dared let himself think of anything more. Too many times he had nearly crumbled and taken her in his arms, but he had always resisted, too afraid of what it might mean to fall that hard again. And then it had happened…as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They needed to talk, that was for sure. Here it would be different, and old wounds would resurface without a doubt.

Without even knowing it, she had done as much this evening, mentioning that walk around the lake. Of course, she couldn't have known its significance, that it was the first time he'd kept something from her, the beginning of the end, in a way, but he did. That night he'd made the decision that had nearly cost him the love of his life…

It had been just after four when King Rupert had summoned him to his office. At the time, it had struck Joe as rather irregular that the King wished to see him alone but, given the confidential nature of security, not that unusual. They had sat down, exchanged pleasantries, and then Rupert had outlined his trip to London. He would be going for two weeks, for talks with the British PM regarding trade arrangements, and then to stay at one of the royal estates, most probably Windsor, for a week's shooting. Joe had nodded, and, as usual taken notes on the itinerary. The description over, they had stood, and he had readied himself to leave.

"Will that be all, your Majesty?"

"Yes Joseph, thank you."

He had walked towards the door, almost reaching it before King Rupert called him back,

"Joseph…"

"Yes, your Majesty?"

"You won't be coming. I want you to stay here and look after the Queen."

Joe looked up at the older man, and their eyes met. In that brief instant Joe realised just how much Rupert had seen, how much he knew. And there was no anger in his eyes. For a moment Joe felt ashamed, like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar…and then, lowering his eyes, he marvelled at the other man's dignity. Nothing was said, there was no need. And so it was not said.

Joe bowed slightly, and moved towards the door.

"Take care of her Joseph, please take care of her."

He turned and, again meeting the King's eyes, nodded, "I will, your Majesty"

He had met Clarisse in the garden later that evening and they had walked down to the lake. Initially he had planned to tell her everything, to let her decide what to do. But, as he held her in his arms, he realised that it would destroy everything. She could deceive her husband only so long as she could keep it separate from her marriage. She maintained her pride and strength in the knowledge that, at least for Rupert, nothing had changed. If he told her, they would both be destroyed. And so he didn't.

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. These were not the thoughts to be having now. She had forgiven him, and he had forgiven her. The past was the past, all that remained now was for them to bury it once and for all.