PART TWO
Later the following evening, after the State dinner the night before and Clarisse's eventful day with Mia in San Francisco, the queen of Genovia found herself in her room, unable to settle down enough to do her needlework. She sat with it before her, sipping on the tea her lady's maid had brought her and thinking about Joseph and his anger over how she and Mia had spent the day alone. Clarisse gazed at the colourful pears on the canvas, but didn't see them. She found that her emotions were stirring, that tears, anger, frustration seemed closer to the surface than she had ever allowed them to be in Genovia, and she tried to excuse her weakness by telling herself firmly that meeting her grand-daughter and trying to groom her for the throne was the cause. It simply could not be that she was ... falling in love for the first time in her life. Impossible!
Although Rupert hadn't been the romantic husband of her girlish dreams, he had been good and kind. She realized that, buried deep inside, was a small defiant part of her that wished she had not bent to her parents' insistence that she marry the young king. She had hoped that, after they had married, their affection would deepen into love, but that had never happened. How many times had she wanted to shout to Rupert, "LOOK AT ME! Look at me and see ME, not just the sons I have borne you! Make me love you, because friendship and respect cannot be enough for either of us! Make me love you!" She never had, of course, but the traitorous thoughts had been there all through their marriage.
If she had never met Joseph, Clarisse could have gone on pretending to be content, convincing herself that she did not yearn for love or sweet words or a quiet touch in the middle of the night. Yet she HAD met him, and since Rupert's death, she had grown to know Joseph much better than she had ever known her husband. With Joseph, Clarisse was sure she would be loved tempestuously, thoroughly, and delightfully. They had only danced together that once. They had never touched each other in passion, but she was sure the ache was in both of them, not just her alone. She had learned how much passion there could be in silences and in long looks. With Joseph, she was convinced there would be passion and love. With him, it would not simply be a duty ... cold, silent and soon over. And yet, there could be no place in her life for romantic fancies and sinful dreams. She had made vows ... vows to Rupert, vows to her sons, vows to her country. She should not even think of being with Joseph like that. It could never be.
Clarisse sighed and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. Then, at a tap on her door, she sat up straight again, putting her hand to her needle as if she were busy. "Come in."
Charlotte popped her head in and said, "Excuse me for disturbing you so late, your Majesty, but you asked to have invitations for the Independence Day Ball sent to the policeman and the, umm, trolley driver from this afternoon. I just wanted to say that they were sent out by courier."
"Thank you, Charlotte."
"Would you like some more tea?"
"No, thank you. This is fine. It's rather late, and I suppose I should go to bed."
Charlotte nodded. "Very well." Then she smiled. "From the sounds in the basement when I went past just now on my way up here, there's another basketball game going on. At least, I hear the ball bouncing a lot. No talking or laughing, but I DO hear the ball. You'd think those men would get enough exercise during the day, wouldn't you?"
Nodding her agreement, Clarisse said nothing.
"Your Majesty? I also wanted to say that I'm sorry about ... well, about encouraging the princess when we were watching the game yesterday. I know you weren't very happy with us ..."
"Oh, tush." Clarisse got to her feet and smiled at her assistant. "I suppose I need to relax a little more, myself."
"And what a way to do it!" Charlotte's eyes sparkled as she remembered. "Did you see Frank, the tall blond man on Joseph's team? I almost drooled while looking at him."
Clarisse raised a delicate eyebrow, and Charlotte blushed. "I'm sorry, your Majesty. I'm doing it again. I'll just leave you now."
"Good night, Charlotte." When the younger woman had gone, Clarisse looked down to her needlework in faint distaste. She hadn't noticed anyone but Joseph yesterday. What did that say about her powers of observation?
Her hand reached out for her robe, then stopped. Her heart suddenly pounding, Clarisse made a spur of the moment decision. She would go down to see if Joseph was in on the basketball game. She would manage to contain her drooling, and perhaps learn something about the game ... Stealthily, Clarisse crept out of her room and made her way down the stairs, avoiding the guards as they patrolled the hallways. She slipped through the basement doorway, pulling it partially closed behind herself. The sound of the ball bouncing met her ears, and she realized that Charlotte had been right, there wasn't the talking nor the laughter that had accompanied yesterday's exuberant game.
Peeking through the partially opened door, Clarisse saw that it WAS Joseph, bare-chested as before, bouncing the ball and throwing it into the basket – perfectly every time. He had a scowl on his face, one that had appeared the moment Clarisse had been delivered back to the consulate by the police this afternoon and had not gone away since. Obviously he was still trying to work off his anger from the day. Clarisse smiled to herself. She had thoroughly enjoyed her day with her grand-daughter, and felt that it was good to keep Joseph on his toes!
Lost in her thoughts as she feasted her eyes on the half-naked man in the room, Clarisse didn't have a chance to draw back when he suddenly turned towards the door and growled, "You may as well come in, because I know you're there."
Biting her lip, Clarisse raised her chin and stepped into the room. "Joseph."
"Your Majesty." It was obvious that he was still annoyed.
"I thought you needed more people to play this game."
"If you're going to play the game, yes. I am just shooting baskets."
"Shooting baskets?"
"Throwing the ball and trying to get it through the hoop." he explained rather curtly.
"You're very good at it," she said, trying to keep her eyes on his, and not let them wander down his body.
"Thank you. I asked you yesterday if you would like to play. Would you care to try tonight? It's a good way to relieve any stress you might have."
"Just throwing a ball at a hoop?" Clarisse asked incredulously. "Does everyone try to get it through the same hoop? Or just the one closest to you?"
He asked rather reluctantly, "Would you like for me to explain the game briefly, your Majesty?"
"If you would."
Handing her the basketball, Joseph picked up another from by the wall, and began bouncing it, saying, "A basketball game is played by two teams, usually consisting of 5 players each at any one time. The object is to get the ball through the other team's hoop." He held up his ball, then threw it towards the hoop on the far wall. It went through.
Clarisse smiled. "Sounds easy enough." She began to walk closer to the hoop herself, getting the feel of the ball in her hands, and wondering if she could get it through the hoop as effortlessly as Joseph did.
"Of course, usually the other team is trying to stop you," he said, blocking her path and stopping her in her tracks. "Also, you can't just hold the ball and walk. You have to bounce it while you move. The only time you can actually HOLD the ball is when you're standing still." He reached out and tapped on the ball she was holding, and it fell out of her hands. "And even then, the other team is trying to get it away from you."
"Oh!" Clarisse grabbed at it, laughing a little as she missed and it bounced away.
Joseph, still unsmiling, picked it up and handed it back to her. "Here, your Majesty. When you are given a free throw, you stand here ..." he showed her the place on the floor. "Then you hold the ball like this ..." he picked up another ball and positioned his hands correctly. "Then you toss it in." His ball arched up and went through the hoop, barely touching the netting as it passed.
Clarisse copied his motions and threw the ball. It hit the hoop and bounced off at an angle. "Oh," she murmured in chagrin. "It is harder than you make it look."
"I have been practicing and playing for years. This is your first time." He fetched the ball for her, and she bounced it once, experimentally, then tried throwing it again. Once more, she missed.
As he went after the ball, Clarisse said quietly, "Why are you still so upset about today, Joseph? Mia and I just ..." She broke off when he came back, tossing the ball away, and took hold of her upper arms to pull her closer. Their bodies bumped. Joseph watched her eyes deepen in confusion. "What do you think you are doing?" she demanded tightly, her body stiff against his.
"Testing a theory." He looked down at her mouth. Her lips were full, slightly parted, and incredibly tempting.
"Don't you dare." She meant her challenge to come out as an order, but her voice shook. Surely he wasn't planning to ...
His eyes came back to hers and held. "Are you afraid, your Majesty?"
The question was just the one to stiffen her spine. "Of course not! It's just that I'd rather be kissed by a toad." she lied.
She started to pull back, then found herself tight against him, eyes and mouth lined up, warm breath mingling. She hadn't expected his mouth to be so hot, so hard, so hungry. She had thought the kiss would be easily resisted and easily forgotten, but she had been very wrong. Even as she gasped for air, he deepened the kiss. She tried to shake her head, but succeeded only in changing the angle. The hands that had reached for his shoulders in protest slid possessively around his neck. Their kisses were demanding, frustrating and delightful, all at once.
Clarisse's world, so beautifully secure, tilted under her feet. She couldn't breathe, couldn't even think. All of the weighty and worrisome cares she carried within vanished, and in their place, rioting sensations grew rapidly. It had been so long since she had been touched this intimately, so long since she had wanted any man. But she wanted Joseph now. The sheer power of that want ripped through her, tearing a sobbing moan from her throat.
Joseph released her so quickly that she stumbled back even as her hands slid away from him. "Your Majesty, forgive me! I lost my head ... I don't know why I kissed you ... I'm truly sorry ..."
Her eyes darkened with emotion and wide with shock, Clarisse was unable to say anything. Feelings, too many of them, clogged in her throat. Instead, she made a helpless gesture with her hands, and just stood there, feeling lost. Finally she found her voice. "I'd like you to leave me alone." Never in her life had she been more moved, or more devastated. He had just opened up a door to some secret world for her, then slammed it again in her face with his apology.
"I will escort you upstairs ..." he began.
"No!" Clarisse whirled away from him and escaped the room and his presence. She hadn't wanted to love him, and naturally he had never asked her to care for him in that way. He had only kissed her on impulse, she reminded herself as she hastened quietly up to her room, probably just as a dare to himself. There couldn't possibly have been affection in his kisses, or softness, or romance. The fact that they had stirred her so powerfully was strictly chemical. She had learned to do without such things as affection, softness and romance, and could continue to do without them.
If only she hadn't responded to him so blatantly! She had thrown herself at him, clinging to him, answering those demanding lips with a fervour she had never been able to show her own husband. She had humiliated herself, demeaned the crown of Genovia. If only she couldn't still taste him!
Slipping into her room and closing the door behind herself, Clarisse leaned back against it, her eyes closed as she relived the moments in Joseph's arms. Tears gathered in her eyes and seeped from beneath her lids. If only things were different. If only she were not the queen of Genovia, but merely a woman ready to accept love for herself. If only dreams could come true ...