Where does the passage lead them? Now we find out! (I wish I could promise you'll be surprised, shocked, blown away - but I'm betting there's a good chance you've figured it out.)
Thanks again for the reviews! I do appreciate them very much. I'm glad to have you reading along while I distract myself (and maybe you, too) from reality for a little while.
Clarisse blinked, staring into the room illuminated by one small lamp near the bed and by the moonlight flooding in. "Joseph," she breathed.
Joseph stood aside to let her exit the passage first. "Recognize this place?"
Slowly, she made her way out, then spun around to face him. "My room!" She took in the sight of him leaning against the doorway, and noticed for the first time that her bookshelf was not everything it seemed. It was tall and narrow, and she had always assumed the discreetly placed brackets were solely for securing it against the wall.
He grinned as he switched off the flashlight. "We have matching furniture."
"I see that."
He moved into her room hesitantly, as though not sure whether he should have waited for an invitation. "I know it will be hard enough to explain how we got here without coming in the conventional way, but I still don't want anyone catching us with the passage open." He pushed the shelves back into place. They didn't make a sound.
"They don't make a sound," she said aloud.
"No, I keep this path maintained. To make sure I can get in here in case of an emergency," he explained quickly. "David and I occasionally patrol all the passages that are still walkable – checking for structural integrity, and um, oiling hinges."
"Ah. So…thorough of you."
She was having a hard time remaining calm. The knowledge that her bodyguard sometimes passed by her bed, probably while she was in it, had altered life as she knew it.
From now on, loneliness and restraint and unrequited love could be rendered obsolete. Every dream, every longing, every fantasy she had dared to entertain, telling herself it was harmless to do so when it was impossible to fulfill them – every single one of them could be realized with nothing more than a flashlight and a ten-minute trip through a hidden passageway.
Suddenly, the room felt very warm.
"Clarisse? Are you alright?"
"What? Yes! Of course, just…surprised. So you...pass this way sometimes?"
He stepped closer, and his eyes were dark even as his voice stayed light. "I do."
She knew that he knew what she was thinking.
Even better, she knew he had thought it, too.
"No one else knows about this one?" she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Only David. Not another soul." He didn't say, Not Rupert, but it was heavily implied.
There was nothing between them now but moonlight. A few moments later, and there wasn't even that.
His arms wrapped around her and she let him pull her to him. She moved her hands over his shoulders and around the back of his neck as their lips met, softly at first, then hungrily. She barely registered the thud of the flashlight dropping to the floor. She was unsure who started walking them to her bed, but the moment she bumped against it, they collapsed onto it.
She could not recall the last time she had been so happy.
"Clarisse," he murmured as he trailed kisses along her jaw to her ear. "I have been so worried. These last few days –"
"I know. It terrifies me to think what you would do for me."
"It can't be any other way." He pushed back from her to frame her face in his hands. "I love you. I need you to know that. Everything I do is because I love you."
She blinked back tears that sprang from joy and fear. "I love you, too, Joseph." She said the words like a vow, an oath she swore as she reached to pull him closer again, so she could feel his weight against her.
He complied eagerly, and their words dissolved into passionate kisses.
What stopped them, she couldn't say. As quickly as they had come together, they were moving apart. He pushed himself off of her and paced toward the bookshelf as he rubbed his hand behind his neck. She propped herself up on her elbows and watched him lean back against the hidden door for support. There were things between them again – their ragged breath, a conversation still forming in the wake of their kisses, a long-stretching silence.
Finally, Clarisse asked bluntly, "What do you want, Joseph?"
His answer came without hesitation. "You. This. To love you."
She was quiet again, savoring his words in this place she was certain they would never return to.
"What do you want, Clarisse?"
"The same."
For the second time that night, he was on his knees before her. He grasped her waist and looked up at her adoringly as she straightened up and cupped his face in her hands. "I told myself once that I would be anything you wanted. That if you ever asked, I would be anything, do anything. Bodyguard, friend, lover – whatever you wanted and for however long you wanted it."
"Only I cannot ask."
"No, and I cannot do something that would cause you harm. Love like this could harm you." His face was strained with sadness as he added, "I could harm you."
"And you. If anyone found out –"
"Exactly."
"I need you, Joseph. I cannot be without you, even if I can only ever have part of you."
"You have all of me. I belong to you. Nothing will change that."
He slid his hands across her back so that his arms were around her, and lay his head on her lap. She stroked his cheek. They remained like that a long time, until at last she got up the courage to say what she needed to. He wouldn't want to hear it, but she had to say it at least once.
She needed him to know.
"I would do the same for you."
He knew what she meant. His arms tightened around her. "Don't," he commanded tersely.
"It's true."
"Please, Clarisse. I can't bear the thought. Besides, you're more than simply Clarisse. It's not an option. Promise me."
"Joseph, I -"
"Clarisse," he implored, lifting his head so his gaze bore into hers.
"But I love you. If I could do something - anything - to keep you safe –"
"I know you do, and I know you would. But you don't need to prove it. I would never survive in a world where you didn't exist, either as Clarisse or as Queen."
There were no words left. At least, none that he would listen to. She pressed a kiss, full of inexpressible things, against his forehead. He flinched. "Oh! I forgot."
"It's alright." He managed to smile, but there were still traces of anguish caused by his fears and her confession. "Your love is worth the pain."
"Very funny," she responded with a sorrowful smile of her own. "How does mine look?"
He surveyed the damage. "You're starting to bruise." He pointed to the spot just above her left eyebrow. "There."
"It's been an eventful evening, hasn't it?"
"Life with you," he said, pushing off his knees with another wince, "is never boring, my queen." He sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around her. She rested her head against his shoulder and breathed in the scent of him – soap and cologne and warmth. And dust.
She sneezed. He chuckled.
"I can't say you didn't warn me."
"It's only going to get worse. We have to go back through there."
"I suppose it would look strange if I came out of my bedroom in the morning after not appearing to have entered it the night before."
"A little strange." He stood up with a rueful smile. "Shall we?"
She would never know where she found the strength to rise up from the bed and do the right thing, especially since it didn't feel as though she were doing the right thing. She fought to stay ahead of the looming crush of loss for things that could not be. She could mourn them later, when she came back to her room in the usual way - alone and through the door. For now, she had to give herself over to the brutal guidance of duty.
She sighed. "If we must."
"We must," he said, his words and mood reflecting the same thwarted longing.
She followed him to the bookshelf, watching as he cast one last glance around the room. He was about to open the secret door when he turned back around and frowned at something he saw.
"What is it?" she asked, following his gaze.
Oh. Those. She'd forgotten.
"Are those...your...jeans?" Denim in her wardrobe was a rare sighting.
"It seems they are."
"What's underneath them?" He walked over to the corner of her bed and picked up the jeans that had slid to the floor unnoticed during their passionate embrace. "Boots?" He turned and stared at her, waiting.
"You don't really need to know."
"Oh, but I think I do."
"Let's just say, I've shown an admirable amount of restraint on two occasions this evening."
"Clarisse!"
"What?"
"You were sneaking out!"
"No! Alright, I thought about it. But I didn't do it! I went looking for you instead." She smiled sweetly. Really, he should be proud of her, although she doubted he was going to see things her way. "I told you, I was bored."
"Dios mio…"
"We should get going, don't you think?"
"What am I going to do with you!"
"Don't forget the flashlight. I think you dropped it over there somewhere."
He mumbled something nearly unintelligible as he threw the jeans onto the bed and bent to pick up the flashlight.
"I heard that!"
"You did not."
"Oh, yes, I did."
"Well, if you're expecting me to pat you on the back for not going through with whatever foolish plan you'd concocted –"
"I expect you to get this bookshelf open so we can be off. We need to get our stories straight, after all. People are going to want to know how we ended up with his-and-hers bruises."
With a roll of his eyes and a little more muttering under his breath, he resigned himself to working the latches on the shelving unit.
She stopped to kiss him one more time before entering the passage. Judging from his enthusiastic response, she was forgiven. They broke apart reluctantly. "I love you, Joseph. Does that help?"
"More than you'll ever know."
to be continued...