Disclaimer: Own none of the Princess Diaries characters - besides these ones hardly resemble the ones we know & love!

Author's Note: Started this particular scene ages ago but never quite worked out how to fit it in to anything - then saw the 'first kiss' challenge on the Chamber and, after wondering how much originality i could put in to that scnenario, i remembered this & altered it accordingly. Anyhow - i hope you enjoy, in some kind of way.

Queer
Bad Joseph. Nasty Clarisse. Enough said.

I know what's good for you.

I know you're dying to.

You can touch me if you want.

Forty-year-old Joseph Carlton stalked across the palace grounds towards where the Queen had headed. How he had come to loathe this woman, self-centred and stuck up and arrogant and everything he'd come to hate about woman. Women, as his father had taught him, were for fun and good times and were to be avoided at all costs if they ever got too serious. He'd lived his life abiding by these rules and they'd never failed him.

He liked to think he knew women, well he certainly knew how to please them. Despite his lack of commitment he'd certainly never been short of willing sexual partners. He preferred it that way. No aggravation, no clingy sentimental types draining on his passion for life. He enjoyed life, he lived it to the full, he always had.

Now this damned Queen had the nerve to accuse him of being a child, of acting like a child, what the hell did she knew about him anyway? She saw him as the figure in black who hung around behind her, not that her behind wasn't something nice to hang around – hell she might even be sexy if it weren't for her being so damned dull and stuck up.

So she'd thrown another female hormonal moment and stormed out of dinner with the King and when Joseph had followed she'd told him in no uncertain terms to leave her alone. Never one to bite his tongue he'd thrown back the fact he was paid to follow her to which she'd released a torrent of abuse about him being a childish man before slamming the French doors and running across the darkened lawn.

That was why he was stalking across the lawn, only he seemed to have left behind the lawn a while ago and was no on the sodden earth. November really wasn't the month to be trampling on the wet undergrowth in nothing but practical Palace non-slip shoes. They certainly weren't proving much help on the mud.

"I told you to leave me alone." Her voice emerged from the darkness.

"And I told you Ma'am, it's my job to watch you." He slowly approached her.

"I'm within the grounds."

"You think nutters can't climb fences! It's late, it's dark, should I just leave you here to be attacked."

"I have a feeling you'd like that."

He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Perhaps I would."

"Excuse me!" She barked, hands on hips.

"I said perhaps I would, you're a pain in the …" He caught himself.

"Oh don't stop now Sir, you seem to be on a roll."

"A pain in the arse, you're a god damn pain in the arse. How many times have I had to trample the bloody flowers to pursue you when you're in one of your moods."

She stormed towards him and slapped his face. "How dare you talk to me in that way."

"How dare you call me childish, you don't even know me." He gingerly stroked his heated cheek.

"Oh I know about you Mr. Carlton, very well, you're slowly working your way through my kitchen staff. You've been in the palace for three months and the way you're going by the end of the year I'd say you will have bedded all the female members of my staff."

"Only the decent ones."

"You're a disgusting vile man."

"And you're a selfish self-important bitch. I may have only been here three months but I know that. I don't know how his Majesty puts up with you."

"You know nothing about me." She pointed at his face.

He grabbed her hand. "And you know nothing about me!"

"Then we're even."

"I guess we are."

She pulled her hand back. "I don't like you Mr. Carlton."

"I'm not overly fond of you madam. Now can we return to the warmth of the palace?"

"You may, I'm staying put."

"Then it seems so am I."

"Why? Why can't you just leave. I'd rather you did."

"I told you why."

"I wish to be alone."

"It's hardly my dream evening to be stuck out here with you."

"Oh I'm sure there are plenty of women you would rather be 'stuck out here' with. Not some dull old woman."

"You're hardly old, what are you 37?"

"41, shouldn't you're training have taught you that?"

"Maybe I was using my gentleman training and being discreet."

"I don't appreciate it. Your charms don't work on me."

"What makes you think I want my charms to work on you, I haven't even turned them on."

"Oh really well how wonderful for you." She folded her arms and turned her back on him. "You're a real piece of work you know that."

"So are you, this flawless façade you present to the world, how bitter and twisted you are beneath it."

"Are there any other inappropriate insults you wish to throw at me."

"Throw them back, I can take it."

"You insolent misogynist …"

"Go on, continue, I can take it, I've had worse."

"Oh I'm sure you have, you're such a complete bastard."

"Wow, was that emotion?"

She turned towards him, her face red and burning, her scarf fell to the floor as she moved closer to him.

"You have no idea who I am, you think you see me? You think you see the real me? Who are you to judge me, you're nothing."

"That's right I'm nothing, so ask yourself this… why does it bother you so much what I say?"

She took a deep breath and stared at him, her chest rose heavily and he couldn't help but glance at her breasts rising from the corseted dress. She noticed the look and bent to the floor rescuing her scarf and covering herself again.

"Oh don't flatter yourself." He said.

"I may not be some young kitchen hand who'll open her legs as soon as you smile the right way at me, it doesn't mean I don't recognise desire when I see it."

"You really think I would?"

"Wouldn't you, wouldn't it be some kind of trophy to bag the Queen, imagine how you could boast about that."

"Imagine…" he said slyly.

"So."

"So?" He folded his arms.

"So why don't you go on and fuck me, it's what you want isn't it, it's the reason you hate me so much. Because I'm inaccessible."

"You think that."

She stepped closer to him. "Admit it, it's what you hate, a woman who won't fall to your charms. So I'm giving you a free shot."

"What makes you think I would fuck you?"

She realised she was shaking, her body was almost touching his, she didn't have an answer to that. No comeback this time.

"A woman like you, she likes to make love, slowly, sensually, not to fuck like animals."

"I have every right to fire you on the spot."

"Then fire me."

"I…"

He placed a hand on her arm. "Let me take you back to the palace your majesty. You're obviously unwell."

"I am not, I…" She gulped back her words, her throat closed in, her breath tightened. She never cried, she prided herself on that, she wouldn't… she wouldn't cry in front of him. Not in front of such a man. "I can't." She whispered.

"Your majesty, do you need to talk?"

"Why should I talk to you?"

"Because I may be an insolent misogynist but I'm not judgemental, I can listen without prejudice. And I never kiss and tell."

"If you kissed me I'd have to break your nose."

"I'd like to see you try I'm a trained bodyguard."

"I'd have a damned good shot."

He laughed. "I'm quite sure of that." His hold on her was gentle now, almost a caress. "I know you don't like me, we've not seen eye-to-eye since I came here, that doesn't mean I can't help, if you have a problem."

"How are you on marital problems Mr. Carlton?"

His eyes narrowed.

"I thought not, never married, no ties, no children, no real duties."

"I have a duty to you and his majesty do I not."

"I suppose you have, in that case you ought to learn that staff never cross lines with their monarchs. And certainly never touch them."

He pulled his hand back.

"And never, under any circumstances, question, insult or argue with their Queen."

"For that I apologise."

"Don't, I rather enjoyed it. Nobody ever talks to me as an equal human being, perhaps you see more of me than I thought."

"And you know certainly know how to irritate me madam."

She held her hand out to him, formally. "Clarisse."

He smiled. "Hello Clarisse, I'm Joseph."

"It's very nice to meet you Joseph."

He took hold of her hand and gently shook it; as he looked up to her eyes he caught the sparkle in them, the incredible blue drawing him in and it finally dawned on him how extraordinarily beautiful this woman was.

Daring himself he lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed the back of it, she smelt of fresh flowers, of rain in the morning, her skin was silky, smooth, soft… he felt an overwhelming urge to lick it. Yet instead he pressed his lips to her hand, his thumb stroking her wrist as his lips tenderly caressed her skin.

It perhaps lasted longer than was necessary or acceptable, it wasn't the first time a man had kissed the back of her hand but it was the first time she'd felt a shiver run down her back at the contact. Yet as long as it seemed to last in the grand scheme of things it was a fleeting touch, a single second in time. And as soon as he'd drawn his lips back from her hand she'd longed to feel them on her again.

Locating her formal resolve she'd straightened her back, yet her hand still lie in his.

"Well Joseph, I think I'm ready to return to the palace now."

"As you wish your majesty."

He let go of her hand and stepped back as she passed him and headed back across the muddy earth to the palace lawns. He followed at a discreet distance, his eyes never leaving her back.

Yes Clarisse Renaldi was stuck up, formal, by the book, she positioned herself as the perfect Queen, untouchable, unbreakable. And yes Joseph Carlton loathed that particular type of person. But this evening, albeit briefly, he'd witnessed a chink in that perfect exterior. Fire, anger, a portrait of the barest human emotions, she knew how to fight; she was strong, that he liked. She played him back; no woman had ever done that.

As they neared the Palace Joseph wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling, he still didn't particularly like her… especially as Rupert greeted her at the door to the library and, gripping her upper arms, kissed her forehead. But perhaps, perhaps, he was falling in love.

He mentally kicked himself, no; Mr Carlton never, ever fell in love. It was basic lust, she was right all along; he simply wanted to get her into bed, another conquest. The pinnacle of all conquests. He wondered how long it would take for him to achieve that particular goal, after all this evening they had shared their first kiss, in a roundabout way.

Well i'm not sure 'liked' is the right term but please let me know what you thought. x Rhonda