As he quietly entered the outer room of her suite, Joe wasn't entirely sure of how he should play this one. She had sounded unmistakably shaky on the phone, and he was almost certain that she must have been crying. The thought made him deeply sad…it was the last thing he'd wanted, the very last thing. He'd spoken up now because he thought she might need the extra security - he smiled at the unintentional pun - the extra strength from knowing his commitment, but it had backfired. Perhaps he should just put it all from him mind and simply pretend that the afternoon hadn't happened. As he placed his hand on the door handle to her room, he realised that that would be impossible.

"Joseph…I…I'm sorry"

She had been standing by the fireplace, but as soon as he entered she had strode over and flung herself rather unceremoniously into his arms. Instinctively, he wrapped her tightly against him and, kissing the top of her head, stroked a hand through her hair, trying to soothe her,

"Hey…hey…darling, it's ok, I'm here." He hadn't known what to expect, but it definitely wasn't this. "You don't have to apologise, especially not to me."

He felt her sigh deeply against him, and found himself gazing into tear-stained blue eyes,

"Yes I do, most especially to you…"

He smiled, trying to lighten the mood, and, dropping a chaste kiss to her forehead, traced a finger down her cheek,

"Alright then, my love, I accept your apology. If you will accept mine?"

It was her turn now to look surprised, and dropping her chin a little, as if to contemplate his request, she nodded back.

As she nestled back into his arms, he continued in a whisper,

"It was a mistake, my darling…I should not have pushed you so soon. It was not my intention to startle you. Sometimes I forget who you are, what you have to do…"

She smiled now, and wrapped her hand delicately around his neck, pulling his lips down to hers, whispering back before sealing their reconciliation with a kiss,

"And that, my darling, is why I love you so much…"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

As the coals in the fireplace began to turn to embers, Joe contemplated dropping another log onto the pile. Glancing at his watch though, and noting that it was nearly five, he decided against it. In any case, that would require moving. She was sleeping, curled up in his arms, in the oversized sofa, and had been for some time. They had talked for an hour or so after he had arrived, about nothing in particular. She had laughed as he recounted some of Lionel's latest antics, and had mentioned a few anecdotes regarding the maids herself. Their emotional exchange over, they had slipped back into their routine. Just as if nothing had happened.

And now, as the sun was beginning to rise over the hills, Joe was left wondering just what had happened…and, more to the point, what he might do about it. She was clearly happy with him. Yes, he was confident that it wasn't he that was the problem. Could this all be simply that she was afraid of what the people might think? Or was there something more? That was a thought into which he was hardly willing to delve any deeper. They had barely spoken of Rupert after his death, even on that night…that night when everything had fallen back into place…

Joe smiled, remembering how they had stayed up all night talking, the promises they had made, how he had sat, just as he was now, as dawn was breaking over the San Francisco skyline, and held her, sleeping, in his arms.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Flashback – PD1

As Joe had waltzed the young princess in his arms around the makeshift ballroom, he couldn't help but feel the eyes that kept falling upon his face. Of course, as soon as he looked up, she looked away, down to her paperwork, or some imaginary piece of lint on her skirt, but he knew. He smiled…until a rather sharp jolt in the ribs wrenched him back to the task in hand.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay…Again"

They danced some more, and it was with a swell of pride that he watched her execute a near-perfect turn, and the wide grin that plastered itself across her face as she realised it. He was developing a rather large soft spot for this particular young lady…right from the first moment he had seen something of her grandmother in her spirit, and she was learning extremely fast. He smiled back and, wiggling his eyebrows to make her laugh, deposited her back in front of Clarisse's table.

"Very well, you may go…"

As the girl raced off down the marbled floor, he seriously feared for her ankles, but no sooner had he started to worry, than she had slammed the door behind her and sped off to meet her friends.

Suddenly aware they were alone, his attention turned back to Clarisse, who was absent-mindedly shuffling her papers. She was busy and preoccupied. He knew she'd been overdoing it recently and, as per usual, was vehemently denying this every time that Charlotte suggested it. He also knew that she was finding their 'situation' draining. Since their conversation in the car, after Philippe's funeral three months ago, they had not discussed their feelings for one another. He knew she wasn't ready, and not only did he not want to push her, but moreover, he wasn't sure that he was ready himself. So they had kept their respective distances. It was undeniable that there was something more between them, the occasional caresses, the lingering gazes, the rare smiles that they reserved for one another…but all these things had been carefully controlled. Not showing too much, not giving too much.

Here in San Francisco, she seemed so much happier. Meeting Mia had done her the world of good, and this new project, albeit a tiring one, had, without doubt, forced Clarisse to move on. She was exhausted, yes, but was still smiling. And so now he wondered if it was time? There were, after all, so many reasons why it was not. But would it not perhaps always be like that? Wouldn't there always be reasons to run rather than face the music? Something inside him seemed to suddenly change and, instead of ruefully shaking his head and walking away, he decided that it was time. Instantly, he felt better. As he smoothed down the sleeve of his shirt casually, he was surprised to find that the decision itself had been the hardest part. Now, as he watched her, knowing what he would do, he felt strangely relaxed, on automatic pilot almost.

He smiled to himself and, stepping gingerly closer to the table by which she stood, reached out and pressed the button on the stereo. As he reached across her body he heard her sharp intake of breath, and sensed the way her shoulders immediately tensed. He stepped back, and, with a voice whose steadiness masked his now racing heart,

"You've been wearing black too long…"

For a moment she seemed not to hear, her eyes fixed on the stereo, which had started to play the now immortalised 'Wango', but then she turned. And, thank god, she smiled.

Without questioning her, he simply took her hand and led her to the centre of the room, his fingers suddenly on fire at her delicate touch. She understood immediately and, as his arm wrapped assuredly around her waist, she fell into step with him, and they danced.

It was so simple and yet so complicated. They both knew the steps in their sleep and fell naturally in time to the music. His hand was stroking tiny circles on her back, caressing her, and yet hardly moving. To begin with, her fingers lay still in his palm but, as the music played on, and she began to relax against his chest a little, she traced her thumb down over the back of his. Her own arm rested lightly across his warm back, stroking agonisingly across his shirt with each movement.

From this position he could not see her eyes, indeed, his own were beginning to slide shut at the wonderful feeling of holding her once again. Almost imperceptibly, he could feel her relaxing against him, and slowly, painfully slowly, he guided her gently across to rest fully against him. Still holding her hand in his own, he withdrew the arm from her waist and ran it calmly down her shoulder.

And then she missed a step.

As she faltered, he resisted the urge to cover for her – after all, it was not as if they had anything to hide anymore – and instead spun her out, just as he had done little more than five minutes earlier with Mia. That little boogie though had been mere child's play. This particular dance was entirely adult.

As she spun expertly back into his arms, Joe placed a hand at the small of her back and pulled her into him. She gasped a little at his sudden movement, and, instead of twisting right round to arrive back in the 'correct' position, she found herself finally facing him. For a moment it was as if they had fallen out of time. Neither seemed to notice that the music had clicked off, that the dance was officially over. As their eyes met she studied his face intently, searching his expression, trying to read him. The hand that gently clasped her elbow, that had pulled her towards him, now stroked slowly up her arm, and came to rest on her shoulder. He smiled, and again she searched his eyes, not quite believing what was happening.

As his lips brushed almost imperceptibly against hers, Clarisse felt her eyes instinctively flicker shut. His lips were remarkably soft and warm against her skin and, in spite of its fleetingness, his kiss was remarkably intense. In that briefest feeling of his mouth upon hers, Clarisse felt her heart actually flutter.

Her hand was shaking slightly, he noticed, as she laid it to rest delicately on his cheek, her thumb idly caressing the corner of his mouth,

"Joseph…are…?" she faltered a little, and looked down at his chest where her other hand now lay. She felt his free arm curl around her back and the slight pressure urged her on, "…are you sure?"

He smiled again, pleased at her concern, pleased at the honest certainty of his reply. Quickly, he dropped another chaste kiss to her lips, drawing back almost immediately and whispered,

"Yes, my darling, absolutely, entirely and completely."

The tears that had been threatening to fall for weeks began to well in her eyes and she returned his gentle kiss with a light caress of her own…and then, stepping closer brought her head to rest against his chest.

"You know, I wondered if this might never happen…"

He pulled her even closer and ran a hand tenderly through her hair,

"I once promised you I would never leave you…"

She smiled against his chest and, realising that she no longer had to hide her tears, looked up at him,

"Oh Joseph…"

As their lips met once again in a familiar kiss, both were oblivious to the smiling figure of Charlotte retreating silently into the background, hugging her sides with excitement. His hands ran through her hair and down to caress the nape of her neck, as their mouths began to dance. Each kiss grew in confidence, each a little deeper. Wrapped in each other's arms…finally…they became entirely oblivious to everything outside themselves. It was only the insistent vibration of Joe's cell phone, still nestled in his shirt pocket, which eventually broke them apart many minutes later.

He smiled, unable to keep the faint hint of irritation from his eyes. Flipping the phone open, and looking apologetically at Clarisse, he growled into the earpiece,

"Yes…"

As he listened to the unfortunate caller on the other end, grunting occasionally, Clarisse couldn't help but bring his free hand to her lips and gracefully kiss him as he had done so many times for her. He smiled, in spite of himself, and instantly his manner changed. A few more seconds, and he hung up, slipped the phone away and, quickly drawing her back against him, kissed her forehead,

"Now…where were we?"

She raised an eyebrow playfully and, tapping his lower lip with her index finger, indicated the spot. He began to move closer, but then gently she pushed him back, reality rapidly encroaching,

"Darling…I have an appointment in two minutes…Charlotte will come and look for me…we…" She paused, looking carefully into his eyes, not sure how to phrase it. Instead, he finished for her,

"…we don't want to get caught?…I understand…and, my love, I agree. I mean, just think of what it might do to my reputation…"

She giggled and the sound almost made him tear up himself. Instead, he settled with a smile, a careful sweep of his thumb under her slightly mascara-stained eye, and a final chaste kiss on the nose.

He had just pulled back as Charlotte stepped into the room,

"Ah, there you are your Majesty…the attaché has just arrived and the two German diplomats are waiting in the entrance lounge. Shall I direct them to your office?"

Tearing her suddenly bright eyes away from Joseph, Clarisse smiled and nodded her approval,

"Very good, my dear, thank you. I will come and greet them immediately. Tell me, Charlotte, how long do you think this will take?"

"I'm not sure, your Majesty, though it may be a while. There are quite a few issues to discuss.", she paused, noting with some quiet amusement how the Queen's face fell at this news, "Though I have told to the chef to prepare dinner as usual, at 7. I know that both diplomats have to fly back this evening, so it can't run beyond that."

Clarisse sighed and nodded again, following in the direction of Charlotte's departing form,

"Very well, I'm coming…" She began to leave but, just before she reached the door she turned back,

"Joseph?"

"Yes, your Majesty?"

"Would you be able to come to my office after dinner to look over something for me?"

He smiled, and winked quickly,

"Of course, it would be my pleasure…"