Chapter 6

Queen Clarisse Renaldi stood, her arms enveloped around her security guard, and her lips pressed tightly against his. Earlier she had semi-decided to keep her distance, but now, now the gap between them had been crossed. With the kiss, her ability to think had vanished like the summer breeze in the midst of the winter storm. They had easily and naturally melted into each other in front of the burning embers of the stone fireplace. Neither one had the ability to realize the danger involved; the two boys just up the circular staircase, the two maids and cook who staffed the winter getaway, King Rupert's habit of appearing out of nowhere without warning, and the danger they imposed on themselves. For as good as it was between them, there was always an equal and opposite torture.

Breaking herself out of the reverie they had entombed themselves in, Clarisse pulled away from him. She could feel the warm air coming from him as he tried to steady his breathing. The air was awfully hot. It had been remarkable. No wonder she had lost herself. Realizing what she had done, she put her hand on his chest and pushed him away. Shaking her head, trying to deny her feelings, she spoke, "NO Joseph. This can't happen. How dare you...," she tried to finish.

"How dare I?" His eyes widely glaring the queen who stood before him, "May I remind you, YOU kissed me back." Joseph studied her look, not able to decipher exactly what her feelings were.

"You kissed me first. It's not proper for a security guard to kiss his queen, to say the least." She had shifted herself deep into her role. She stepped further back from him, trying to persuade herself that she didn't want him.

"It's nothing you didn't want, YOUR MAJESTY." Joseph stressed out his last words, mocking her as she played with his feelings. "Any time I can do anything for the crown...," he said, bowing low.

"How dare you Joseph! You cannot talk to me like that!" she fumed. "I am the Queen of Genovia!"

"I know who you are, probably better than anyone. You cannot look at me and tell me that you did not want to kiss me." He was daring her now, pushing her to reveal her true self.

"I did not," she hissed.

"You 'did not' what, Your Majesty?" He stepped forward, angry at her for denying her feelings yet again.

"I.."

"Yes?"

"I did not want to .." He had came so close, his body brushed hers. His mouth was only inches away, soft and alluring to her. "I..." Clarisse met his lips once again, the fighting now raging between their tongues. The battle was intense. Joseph squeezing his arms around her hips, as her arms pulled tightly around his neck. From a small distance, one could not tell where one began or the other ended.

Again Clarisse pulled away, breathing heavily. She shook her head slowly, but turned quickly, running for the stairs. She had no more taken three steps than he had her in his arms. Joseph scooped her up as she kicked and beat on his chest and shoulders. "Put me down! Joseph, right now, put me down!" When he didn't answer, but began walking, she questioned, "Where are you taking me? I demand to know." 1

"Very well." Joseph managed to open the front door, walking out into the night. "I am taking her Highness to cool off!" Eyeing the snowbank the boys had slid down earlier, Joseph hoisted her higher in his arms, and tossed her into the freezing snow drift.

She screamed. Joseph, watching from a few feet away, turned, and headed back inside. Greeted by one of the maids he offered an explanation, "Oh everything's just fine, thank you. The Queen simply wanted to cool off a bit. It was too hot in here for her." Joseph led the maid and himself inside, and shut the door.

Shocked by the ice cold, Clarisse layed sprawled in the snow. She had heard him slam the front door, and yet could not believe that he had left her here. Hell, he had thrown her out here. It was more than cold as she tried to move. Her hands sank in the snow, looking for something solid to push up against. "Damn that man!" she said to herself. "When I get inside I am going to..." she broke off. What was she going to do? Finally able to lift herself upright, she trampled through the high snow, back to the front door. Shaking some of the ice off, she realized she had cooled down. No one had ever done anything to her like that before. Joseph. Just the thought of him kept her warm inside. She opened the door and went in, shedding her wet shoes and dress jacket on the floor. Clarisse looked around for him, hoping he would be in sight. Not to chastize, for her anger was fading fast. She could not stay mad at this man. He was right. She had done nothing but tease him, then denied her feelings for him. She deserved what she got. Still the question lingered in her mind and on her heart, what was she going to do?

His door was partly open, although the only light inside shone dim. Clarisse slipped through the opening, careful to close it behind her. She glanced around, not seeing him. Walking to the fireplace, she made note of the several pictures on the mantle. "Must be his family," she whispered to herself. Then she noticed the main artwork hanging over them. It was her. It was a painting of her, sitting upright under the famous pear tree. "Funny, I don't remember..."

"Your hair is wet, as well as your clothes, you should get dry." Joseph spoke while handing her a towel. His voice was evident with concern. "I have a robe hanging in the bath, go put it on." She took the towel, nodding to him as a thanks.

"Joseph," her voice was low and filled with the love she knew she could no longer deny, "where did that painting come from? I don't remember having that done." She looked to him as she emerged from the bath. He patted the bed, motioning for her to sit beside him.

"I did it, that and several others. Rupert had them hung about the estates."

"YOU did that? Joseph it's wonderful!" She couldn't believe he hid such talent.

"Rupert caught me painting, and asked if I'd paint more. They are scattered about. That one is one of my favorites, so I had it hung here. The other is in my room at the palace. There is one of you and the boys also at the palace, in the main hall to the dining area."

"I had never noticed," she interrupted. Joseph snickered.

"Well, I'm not surprised, with so many it's hard to single out one."

"Why didn't you say something, when did you do this?" Her curiousity was getting the best of her.

"I do it in my free time, I don't like to make a fuss about it, it's just something I like to do. I saw you sitting under that tree one day, and I sketched you. From that, I did this," he motioned toward the painting. "There's one of you in the garden also, it's in one of the conference rooms."

"I had no idea...it's beautiful, if I say so myself." She smiled at him, her anger long gone.

"I wanted to make love to you out there, in the snow." Joseph confided in her. He watched her eyes, this time knowing she truely loved him as well.

"Why didn't you?"

"It would have been a little public, and besides, you deserve a soft, warm bed."

"Like this one," she motioned to his. He nodded, wrapping his arm around her. "I hope you came to stay awhile?"

"Joseph, I'd like nothing better than to love you, right here, right now." She had said it. It felt good, and she was proud of herself. Her lips moved to meet his.

"You're not going to tease me again, are you?" Joseph raised a brow at her.

"No," she smiled, "No more teasing. You realize I'll have to leave before morning?" Her heart sunk at the thought.

"I know, and I understand, love." His hand pulled in her head, aiming her lips for his. "You look so sexy in my robe.." His lips brushed hers. "What I really want is to see you without it." She took his obvious hint and untied the belt herself. His mouth began moving down, from her lips to her chin, to her chest, until he buried his face in her soft belly.

Moving her to the center of his bed, he climbed in next to her, pressing his body into hers. Joseph moaned as she held onto him for life. The closer they seemed to get, the tighter her hold on him became. It was pure bliss, a winter wonderland if he had ever known one.

They made love until the early hours of the morning, when finally Joseph had drifted off. She slipped out of his arms, noticing how innocent he looked as he slept. Clarisse pulled on his robe, not looking forward to leaving him. Tonight they had made love, and she did not want it to end. Smiling, she glanced at him once more, then to the painting of herself. Flicking off the lamp as she walked by it, she left.