Chapter seventeen

By now they would be searching for him. She had eyed the clock since her visit downstairs with Shades. She sure had not expected the revelation he disclosed to her. It did not surprise her though. Joseph was a strong willed man, and if he chose to not live without her, then his mind would be set as stubbornly as hers had ever been.

Yet here she was, safe and sound; injured, but on the mend. Clarisse leaned back on her chaise lounge, refusing any idea to leave her suite again. She just wanted to sit and think. That is what she needed to do. However her thoughts kept drifting to the worst case scenario.

It had been he that had walked off. Surly the guilt of lying to her once more weighed heavy on his heart and mind. It weighed heavy on hers. She should be able to trust her head of security, if no other. Yet, this was more than just a Queen and her head of security situation. It had become personal at some time. There had to be a line someplace that it had crossed, a fine line albeit, but a line nevertheless. Clarisse submitted herself to being clueless as to when and where things had changed, if ever they had been any different between them.

She remembered the first time she had saw him. She remembered their first conversation, if you could have called it that. The few words that had passed between them had been overtaken by the mutual attraction, and they had ended up talking more with their eyes than their vocal chords. As she remembered even more about him, the years with him being plentiful, she became restless.

Her body was uncomfortable, much as her soul. She had shifted back and forth in her chair, unable to find a suitable position for a woman in such turmoil. She pulled the pillow out from under her arm and tossed it across the room, figuring it might be of more use on the floor over there than it had been under her arm. Then she kicked the cushion out from under her foot, content that it might as well be on the floor too.

"Giving yourself a hard time?" A voice emitted from just outside her suite doors.

"Sheila!" Clarisse straightened herself up, a little relief settling upon her at seeing someone who wouldn't leave her feeling so...dramatic. "Please, come in."

"Well," she observed, "Sebastian said you needed some cheering up. It's the first thing he's got right in weeks." Both women giggled as Sheila took the seat Olivia had moved over beside Clarisse.

"May I bring tea ma'am?" Olivia enquired.

"Please," Clarisse nodded.

"When he told me what had happened, frankly I couldn't believe it. I mean you hear of things on the news..."

"Sometimes I think it was just a dream myself."

"So tell me," Sheila placed a hand upon her friend's, "how are you, really?" She knew Clarisse all too well. She knew she hid things from everyone, including those closest to her. Maybe those even more so.

"I'm coping."

"Coping. Just coping?" Sheila made eye contact, and that was all it took. "I can tell how you're coping."

"Oh Sheila, I didn't know..." Clarisse broke down. "He didn't tell me how badly things were..."

"He?"

"Joseph..."

"Ohhh. I see. Ever the bodyguard." Clarisse nodded, stifling the tears. "You know, you two really are stubborn." Clarisse gave her a questioning look.

"How long have you two been in love?

"Love?", Clarisse answered shyly.

"You can fool a whole lot of people, Clarisse, but some of us know you too well, both of you." Sheila quieted, watching her friend and Queen finally accept the facts; not only had she been in love with him for a long time, but there were a few who they could not hide it from.

Olivia sat the tray down beside them, nodding at her Queen as Clarisse excused her with the wave of a hand.

"So Joseph refused to tell you how badly things were." Sheila finally broke the silence.

"He should have told me...I needed to know." Clarisse shot back at the statement.

"He held back the devastating news because he was afraid for you, he knew you were not as strong, and he most likely couldn't handle seeing you so completely distraught right then." Someone needed to take up for him, and Sheila had seen the depths of his love for Clarisse on more than one occasion.

"He lied to me."

"Indeed. He protected you."

"He chose his duty over me."

"And you know nothing of that?" Sheila picked up her tea, and held it up to toast the Queen.

"Out there with him," her voice now soft and low, "we connected, I mean really came together. I thought we knew each other so well...we could see through each other...we had something so strong and open. When I finally get back here, I find out that he had kept secrets from me the whole time, that things weren't as I had seen them. He couldn't be honest with me. Sheila, he broke the trust we had in one another...again."

"Clarisse, Joseph was taking care of you to the point that he was willing to fore-go that trust. Can't you see that? Have you spoken to him?"

"He hasn't come back." Sheila eyed her with concern. "They are scouting the area now for him. It seems he went off alone."

"I see. I guess that speaks for itself."

He fought with the strength of ten men, but given how badly he was outnumbered, Joseph succumbed to his fate and stopped his struggling. "I can't believe she sent my own men after me." Several snickers echoed along the rocks until Joseph eyed the crew with his evil glare. They didn't have to enjoy this so much.

As darkness descended like a thief, Clarisse hobbled over toward her balcony doors, watching the perfectly timed lights spring to life among the garden paths. Sharps pains within her foot robbed her of any peace, and the throbbing in her arm refused to quit. Stubborn as she was, she refused to sit again, being over anxious at his return.

She watched the guards below exchange their positions to fresh men. She wondered how Joseph managed to perfect their art so precisely, so demanding of them. When it came to his job, he was as thorough and perfect as she liked to think she was. Nothing was amiss, and God saved anyone who had forged any likeness to being clumsy over the years in his midst.

Should she put up her cold front? Should she rid herself of all this agony and heart wrenching? Was it even possible to rid herself of him? Even now, as he was away, she felt her whole soul filled with his spirit. How many times had Rupert told her not to get personally involved with the help? It was one thing to be a good employer, and even friendly to those around you every day; but to get so personally involved that you let down your whole guard...He had brought down her guard from the very beginning. He was a constant warmth in the cold society that surrounded her daily.

She felt his nearness even before the knock on her door. "Come in," she called, a weary tone in her voice. If ever she needed more time to think, it might just be now.

"You should not be on that foot." His voice was stern, yet sympathetic at her condition. She did not turn, only looked out onto the vast grounds, finding anything that he had a part in, which included most everything, right down to giving the gardeners strict directions.

She had missed his voice. It had plagued her mind for the past few days. At times she could remember it so clearly, and others she could not. It had been another frustration to pass her time.

She turned quickly on one foot, and leaned against a wooden chair of her small table. "Well, where have you been? We expected you days ago." Joseph notched a quick jerk at her chipper mood.

Being sarcastic was something Clarisse did not show often. If this was what he thought, things were as bad as he imagined. For that reason, her lightheartedness did not comfort him like it should have.