Mixed Signals by Posh & Stoneygem

Part 13

They should not have been rescued. It would have made things easier. Had they not been rescued, they might have had a chance to make things right – to talk, to argue, to share, to love, to build bridges.

As it were they were rescued, and that seemed to have been the beginning of the end. Easter had gone by, March had gone by and now they were in the middle of April and life still didn't seem to take a breath. At least not for Joseph.

Clarisse sighed, standing once again by the window in her office. 'I should better step away from it; it always gives me those morbid thoughts,' she thought sarcastically. She didn't know exactly, where this mood had come from today. Outside the afternoon sun was shining brightly upon the lawn, even through the glass she could hear the birds and if she really tried she could smell spring in the air. Still, Clarisse felt a hint of depression.

They should not have been rescued.

At the time they were somewhat relieved to be taken from their slightly uncomfortable abode, snowed in and without sufficient food sources. Yet, they were sad to leave their haven, where it was just them, where only their relationship mattered.

Oh, they had been full of good intentions, planning to talk more, share more. They wanted to make a whole new start, to learn to know each other again as people – as a woman and a man strongly attracted to each other. They wanted to properly court each other, go through all its stages and to build their trust in each other again.

How good it had sounded and how easy she thought it would be. Clarisse covered her face with her hands and breathed deeply. It had seemed so easy.

Now, merely five weeks later she had to accept that they had failed in their plan.

In the anteroom of her office a phone rang and she jumped at the sound. Maybe, it would be Joseph calling her? She hadn't heard from him for almost two days now.

But the telephone on her desk remained silent.

Clarisse heaved another sigh, turned and sat down on her chair. Everything was so quiet. She had long since finished her work for the day and didn't know what to do with herself. Truth to be told, she was downright bored.

Of course, she was happy that Mia had grown into her role so quickly and was thriving on a wave of enthusiasm and success. Of course, she was relieved not to be forced to work through every trade agreement; those papers were positively dull. However, right now, Clarisse would have been glad about a trade agreement on delivering snow to Russia.

Naturally, she could call it a day and take a stroll through the gardens. Or she could choose a book from the library and indulge herself with a leisurely read by the fire with tea and her favourite chocolate. After all, Joseph wasn't there to tease her about her secret weakness. Or she could really pamper herself – a long soak in the tub and then taking her time to apply lotion to every inch of her skin.

Groaning Clarisse realized she was too restless to even consider one of those options. Besides, the evening would be long and lonely enough to do all of them.

To be honest, she didn't feel like walking all by herself, neither did she feel like beautifying herself – for whom anyway? And the book? She could read one while waiting another evening for his call and then during the sleepless night, if the call didn't come.

Oh stop it Clarisse, she chastised herself, the project is really important and it is good that he has something to keep him busy. Yes, but so busy? An annoying little voice in her head asked.

"Oh bother!" she exclaimed, utterly annoyed with herself.

"Excuse me?" Charlotte asked from the door, clearly taken aback.

Clarisse looked up. "Oh…erm…never mind, Charlotte. What can I do for you?" She asked slightly embarrassed.

"Queen Mia asks, if you would be so kind to take a look at the proposal she has drafted. She said, you might be able to erase the glitches."

The former queen brightened. "Of course, I will. I go through it and take it to Mia then."

"Very well, your Majesty." The aide bowed and left the office.

On her way to her own office, Charlotte reflected on the mood swings her former queen was going through these days. How hopeful they all had been, when the couple had been rescued from the snowed in hunting lodge. Everybody could see things were looking up again.

The couple had looked exhausted, but much more at ease with each other than the morning before. They were even holding hands, when they had walked into the palace. Of course, things were not back to normal, that much had been obvious. The former easy banter and palpable intimacy was not back and conversations still seemed to be strained, but at least they seemed to be working on it.

Everybody in the palace had hoped they would make more progress.

Who could have known that suddenly all Europe had decided that education was the topic of the season.

Months earlier, Sir Joseph had almost timidly expressed an interest in helping the National Education Board with their work. First minor contacts had been established and finally – though with more than one doubtfully raised eyebrow – he had been accepted as a member of the board, working in the group that tried to further vocational training in Genovia.

In March, seeing all those conferences and meetings across the continent, the board had realized that the husband of their former monarch was an important enough man to further their causes. From this moment on, Sir Joseph's involvement had suddenly grown in leaps and bounds. Suddenly, his schedule was overflowing with meetings, conferences, visits, observations and so on.

Joe loved it. Everybody could see that he throve on it. People were surprised how well thought his proposals were. His voice was heard, his opinion valued. The success was staggering.

The rate his marriage suffered through this success, however, was staggering as well. He was rarely home, three international conferences in the last two weeks alone. Right now, he was in Brussels for four days trying to negotiate the set up of a small but fine school for future high European officials in Genovia. The negotiations were hard and went on endlessly. Apparently they had gone on until four in the morning last night, but Joe was able to drive a wedge into the wall of refusal. Mr. Larain, the other board member had sounded clearly impressed on the phone this morning.

"Is she in a better mood now?" Shades question shook Charlotte out of her musings.

She snorted tiredly. "Yes, but I'm afraid it had more to do with the piece of work I gave her than anything else. She is bored, she is depressed. She misses him. I never thought I'd see the day, when you could see her feelings so easily."

Shades nodded. "I know. I really hoped that leaving them stranded in the lodge over night would do the trick. But it was only a short reprieve, it seems."

"Yes, whatever plans they made there, they clearly could not make them work. We are right back, where we were. They don't talk, they don't touch…"

"He never seems to be here enough for them to touch. Bloody politics. Who'd thought, the boss would enjoy this dog and pony show."

Charlotte chuckled. "He does important work."

"Still, he's so caught up in all that, he doesn't even realize that he's neglecting her. He's digging his own grave here and he doesn't even realize it."

The comforter was just too warm, and it kept slipping away. The sheets were bunched up. Couldn't they stay the way they were supposed to? And why was her pillow so flat?

Clarisse turned for the umpteenths time of the night and groaned loudly. No matter which way she turned, sleep just wouldn't come.

He had not called. Again.

The second day during which he had not called her. Yes, of course he was busy. Those negotiations were important. Of course, but couldn't he have found at least five minutes during a coffee break to say hello?

And she? She had stayed in their suite the whole evening. She had her dinner served here so she would be here in case the phone rang. She had barely dared to take a shower for fear of missing his call. And later she had barely paid attention to her book, all the while staring at the phone willing it to ring.

It never did.

Now she was tossing and turning in their gigantic bed waiting for sleep to come. Clarisse heaved a sigh. This led to nothing.

Sitting up, she contemplated her options. But nothing came to her mind. With a frustrated wail she threw herself over onto his side of the bed and groaned again. The pillow didn't even smell like him anymore. As a matter of fact, nothing in this bed smelt like him.

With a sudden inspiration, Clarisse leaped out of the bed and rushed over to the walk-in closet Joseph now used for his wardrobe. The drawer with his pyjamas was easily found. Her favourite pyjama shirt as well. Quickly removing her own nightshirt and donning his shirt, Clarisse quickly moved under the covers again. Settling herself she heaved another sigh, but this time with a smile. Finally, his scent enveloped her again. If it could not be his arms, then his smell would have to do. At least, she could dream of him now - if sleep ever came.

A few minutes later, her peaceful, even breathing was the only sound in the room.

Joseph was accustomed to sneaking about in the dark, occupational hazard, he could have hung around in Belgium for another night and got a flight back the following morning. Yet the way he figured it he might as well get a last minute flight home that evening, have a few hours sleep and extra time with Clarisse. They'd been apart far too often lately.

The palace was perfectly still and silent as he made his way along the lengthy corridors, just the way he liked it. Years ago it was his favourite pastime, to have the nightshift and enjoy the peacefulness, to wander the grounds on duty and have all that to himself – or as near as it was ever going to be. Then he found the days far more interesting, a certain lady stole his attention and things were never the same.

He nodded to the guards outside the entrance to their suite and entered walking the short distance down towards the main door leading into the lounge, loosening his tie as he went. The scent of her hit him as soon as he stepped inside; through instinct he moved to the couch and laid his jacket down throwing his tie on top of it. He stood his briefcase by the coffee table and made his way to the bedroom.

Clarisse slept on her side, one hand beneath her cheek, he bent to kiss her then thought better of it. It was 3:30 after all, best not wake her now. Instead he went to the bathroom and rinsed his face.

A few moments later, completely stripped, he gently lifted the bed sheets and slid in next to her. For a second he lay on his back sinking down into the familiar softness of the bed, nothing quite like your own bed. Then she murmured something next to him and moved a little.

He slid closer to her, resting a hand on her hip, feeling the warmth of her body so close to his. He could see her bare shoulder, her pale skin shining in the darkness. He couldn't resist leaning forward and kissing her there. She shivered against him, her head twisting a little, a hand coming up to touch him.

"Joseph?"

"Mmm, yes,"

"What… am I dreaming?"

"No, I took a late flight back."

"You didn't call."

"I know, I'm sorry, I haven't been getting back to the hotel until 2 a.m. some days."

He slid his hand down over her hip to her stomach and she turned over into his arms, her hands sliding over his shoulders.

"They don't have phones anymore in the limousine, or did your mobile fail?" She was sleepy, her words merged together.

He smiled. "I'm sorry, what can I say I'm a man and I got bogged down in work."

"Hmm…" She closed her eyes again and rested her head on his chest; regardless of the fact he hadn't called she was already melting against him now that he was back.

He stroked her back, kissed her head, happy just to be holding her again. He adored his new position, the challenges it was bringing, the fact he was being given some recognition at last. Yet he did miss her, missed their time together. Missed her wit and sharp comments, her laugh, her smile, her acute observations on things another might not even notice.

"How have you been?" He whispered gently.

"Lonely." She mumbled.

"I'm sorry, waking you up."

She lifted her head now, resting a palm on his chest and bringing her face to his. Her kiss was swift and fleeting.

"I don't mind that, you're home, now sleep a while we'll talk in the morning."

"Yes ma'am." He kissed her nose before she lay back down, and then closed his eyes quickly falling into sleep.

Joseph woke in bliss, the softest mouth imaginable was caressing his chest, a hand he knew so well skilfully teasing his lower body. In some respects this was the perfect way to begin the day together, making love, in another it just confused issues. In the cabin they'd made such plans, somehow those plans seemed to have been ignored and as time went on the gulf that was initially forming between them was now wider than ever.

Apart from now that was. When they were like this, alone, together, not thinking about another soul in the world. Everything was perfect. He'd not even opened his eyes, not even seen her face yet, but it was all perfect. The feel of her. The smell of her. The wonderful sweet desire already pulsing through his body. They fit together so well, their bodies hungered for the other, wanted to love… oh how he wanted to show her his love. To convince her of his love, to make her realise this was forever and would always be… why couldn't things be that simple?

He felt her hand slide into his and instinctively folded his fingers with hers, lifting her hand up to his mouth and kissing it. He heard her giggle and move on top of him, bringing her face to his. She was staring at him, waiting for him to wake and acknowledge her presence. He played along for a few seconds more, teasing her, feigning sleep. Her fingertips were sliding along his beard, her thumb touched his lower lip, he flicked his tongue out to catch it.

He felt her hair brush his forehead as her nose touched his, felt her breath warm against his skin.

"Joseph…" she whispered. "Wake up."

He groaned, slid his arm around her back then trailed his hand down her top until he reached the hem and felt her skin, he patted her backside and she wiggled against him.

"Your buttons are digging in my chest madam." He said slowly opening his eyes.

"It's your top." She smiled, taking her hands from his chest and lifting the pyjama top over her head.

He took it from her hands and threw it aside.

"Good job I left that one here then."

"Mmm," She kissed his chin, her eyes closed. "I missed you." She said gently.

"I missed you too."

She arched her neck looking down at him. "Too busy to call, too busy to miss…"

"Ahh, no, I never said that… it's your over active imagination again." He slid his hands up her naked back, loving the feel of her smooth skin against his chest, her breasts full and heavy against him.

One hand rose to her face and tucked her hair behind her ear, caressed down her cheek to her wonderful mouth.

"You look amazingly beautiful this morning."

"I slept well." She nipped his fingers with her teeth. "Besides its Sunday, and you're home, a nice lazy day together."

"Hmm. Do you have plans?"

"None that go further than this."

"What time is it?"

"Still early, about 7."

"And you wake me, I didn't crawl into bed until after 3."

"You can sleep more later." She kissed his mouth deliberately, pressing her lips heavily against his. "Love me." She said huskily.

"Oh I already do." Both arms went around her body, cradling her to him. "My darling."

"Mmm, say nice things to me."

"Don't I always?"

She glared at him then broke into a smile. "The majority of the time."

Her body moved up his and she kissed his forehead, he couldn't resist cupping her breast in his hand, licking her neck, so delicate and freckled. Sometimes he still couldn't believe he had left such a horrid nasty mark there, what was it, two months ago? How time passed so very quickly. All too soon it would be summer and they would be celebrating a year of marriage… an entire year and still he felt as if he were floundering in this relationship. Oh yes moments like this were all too magical and perfect, yet other times they seemed to have grown apart so very much.

He twisted her over, her legs wrapped over his welcoming him, her thighs soft and warm. Now he kissed her, with her hands trailing over his back and her tongue caressing his.

He was away so often now, and she never wished to join him. Added to that he was still somewhat scarred by the fact she'd so readily suspected him of an affair, so easy to accept he would be unfaithful to her. Her who'd he waited his entire life to find and love. Her who'd he'd watched from a distance for so many years, unattainable and uninterested, now she was his wife. The thought shot through him like a bolt of lightning, it still never failed to make his heart jump. She was his wife, his!

She moaned beneath him and he realised how heated the kissing had become, how her hips were pushing her body up to his. He pulled his mouth away from hers, looked down at her flustered face, the blush on her pale cheeks. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, the sparkle there breathtaking, the pale blue that looked through his soul.

Almost a year of marriage and his love for her continued to grow, so why was it so difficult? How could it be that his love for her was overwhelming and all consuming and yet they still argued so often, they still couldn't trust completely or depend on the other entirely or share everything. He would never admit to her that now doing this job, having this role and travelling Europe with something to say and people willing to listen, he finally felt important. He finally felt like he was making a difference. How could she accept that?

How could she understand that Joseph Romerro had grown up with little expectation in life and now he was a Sir, married to the dowager Queen and with some of the most important people in the world taking notice of him. How could he tell her that and expect her to understand that this wasn't an ego rush or a task to get him through retirement. This was now a major part of his life, just as she was.

"Joseph."

He felt her hand on his face and looked down at her.

"You seem somewhere else."

He shook his head and kissed her forehead. "No," he smiled at her. "No just considering how lucky I am."

He made love to her slowly and sensually, remembering exactly where she liked to be touched the most, whispering the words she loved to hear, saying her name in a rush of pleasure and completeness. If these months of married life had taught him anything it was that Clarisse liked to make love, in the beginning she'd been a little distant about it all, a little awkward about sharing her body with him after so many years without. But now she was passionate and adventurous, she was loving and sensuous and very often it was she who initiated their love making, just as she had that morning.

He remembered her attempts at seduction when he was so worried about his heart, the delicate garments she wore to entice him and how he had to turn away. He still had the red one, tucked away and saved for some special occasion. It was clear to him that Clarisse Renaldi had found the sexual, womanly side of her since their marriage. They couldn't resist one another, couldn't keep away from the other… it made it so damned hard for them to ever really talk an argument through. To sit and reach an agreement over something because each argument ended the same, with them making love, be it in the middle of the night when he woke her feeling terribly guilty. Or on the couch when she crawled next to him with tears in her eyes, or on the rug in front of the fire when they had shouted their voices hoarse and overcome with passion had simply fallen together then and there. It had to stop, they really needed to sit and talk their problems through not get over them with sweet instant moments of pleasure… however good they were.

Afterwards they lay tangled together whispering words of love in hushed voices; on their sides facing each other, their lips hardly ever parting, or if she dipped her head to speak he would kiss her face, her bare shoulders, the palms of her hands. Her toes tickled the bottom of his feet, and the sun was rising, it streamed beneath the door casting shadows over the floor.

"I don't want to get up yet." She said resting her head against his chest.

"Then don't, sleep."

"Mmm, that sounds good." She lifted her face slightly and kissed his throat. "Wake me to dress for dinner, family lunch."

"I know, I will."

He held her body half on top of his, listening to the sound of her breathing as it slowed and fell into a steady rhythm. He thought of what movement might be taking place elsewhere in the palace, the staff going about their duties, the chef preparing lunch, the maids putting fresh flowers in the dining room just as directed by Clarisse. Charlotte doing a thousand errands, Mo causing mayhem as he raced about eager to be let out into the fresh spring air. Come to think of it a walk might be nice.

He glanced down at the woman sleeping in his arms. There was no way she'd be ready for a walk for a couple of hours. With ease he moved her onto her side and slid out from the bed crossing to the bathroom.

When he returned a few moments later she still slept. He kissed her bare shoulder then covered her up and left the bedroom. Mo was in for a treat; Daddy would walk him this morning.

Clarisse groaned and twisted onto her side reaching across the bed for her husband, instead she found cool lifeless sheets. She opened her eyes and sighed, he was gone, either that or she'd dreamt he'd come at all last night.

She sat up and scanned the room. Damn that man! She threw his pillow at the door frustrated and more than a little angry.

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