"You were up a lot last night, did you sleep at all?" Joseph asked, admiring how wonderfully beautiful she was despite her lack of sleep.

"I just checked on him a few times."

"A few, Clarisse?"

"I'm his mother, I'm entitled to worry about my son. What was your excuse," she eyed him as she sat, motioning for her tea to be poured. He looked up from his breakfast, not expecting that at all. "If you knew I was up all night, you must have been up yourself."

"It's my job." He concluded as a good answer.

"I see, is that all?" Clarisse deeply hoped he had much more of an answer than that. He looked away. He didn't want to tell her how he really felt, about her and the boys. He had to remind himself that they were not his family. This was just his job.

"Joseph, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I know you care for those boys as much as I do. For heavens' sake, you're more of a father to them than Rupert is."

"Clarisse..."

"It's true, we both know it. Don't deny it here, with just us. Please don't feel bad about it, I don't. They need someone, Joseph. Someone like you." She sounded stern, almost as if she required him to take over the job. He could not hide his feelings for them, so he resigned to tell her the truth.

"I was afraid he would get sick."

"I always am." Clarisse took a bite, motioning for Joseph to sit beside her.

"Pierre dealt with the situation very well."

"Yes, he deals with anything very well. He's something special, Joseph. I don't say that because he's my son. I can see something in him, something different, but I don't know what it is." Joseph nodded, understanding perfectly what she was speaking of. He had seen it first hand last night. The boy was lost, in a snow storm, by himself, and it was freezing. Pierre had not been worried. He had found shelter and went to sleep of all things.

"Joseph," Clarisse spoke softly, "I was worried about you too, last night." Their eyes met, exchanging feelings that no words could ever express. Feelings they were not yet prepared to try and explain.

The banging brought them out of their reverie. What sounded like a herd of wild horses were in fact two pre-teenage boys racing to the breakfast table.

"Mother..." Philippe was cut off by a stern glance from her. He sat down quickly and quietly.

"Good morning Philippe, Pierre. I did not know that Rupert put a race track inside." She looked at both boys, trying not to smile, but finding it very hard.

"We're sorry mother," Pierre stated. "It's just that we're so excited. We'd like to go out!" His eyes were bright with ideas of snow.

"No, absolutely not! It's a blizzard out there!" Clarisse was turning upset on them.

"Mother, please," begged Philippe. He knew his mother held a soft spot for his pleas.

"I said no! Especially after last night. Surely you two can find something to occupy your minds inside today." That was the end of it. She had spoken, they hung their heads in disappointment. "Pierre, let me see your hand this morning."

Pierre brighten up, intending not to let the disappointment ruin his whole day. "It is well, mother. Meredith dressed it fresh just a bit ago." Pierre was always so polite, so formal.

"Very well. Finish your breakfast." She glanced at Joseph, knowing he was curious as to the condition of his hand as well. Joseph had a heart, and it melted hers.

"Mother, may we set up the trains today?" Philippe came out of his pouting. He waited all year, every year, just to play with those trains. Clarisse sipped her tea, looking over to Joseph.

"I believe that question should be directed to Joseph." He smiled. He was so much a boy himself when it came to trains. He had longed for a train set when he was small. At age10 his dream came true. It was small, and nothing like the ones these boy's had, but it was a train. The memory of it now was almost as good as the real thing.

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Maybe it was too warm inside. Clarisse sat, curled up in a huge chair. It was Rupert's favourite chair, although he had sat in it only once. The fire was burning bright, emitting a soft glow of warmth, opposite of what she saw outside. It was the middle of the day, yet the sun did not reflect off of anything. It looked much like it did last night. The snow a soft blue, covering everything in sight. Her boys had been hard at work for over an hour now, directed by Joseph, who they had now termed 'conductor'. He was on the floor with them crawling back and forth, piecing together an entire railroad conglomerate, complete with two villages and four trains. The endless tracks were pieced together, running over or under every piece of furniture in their way. She found it very enticing, very interesting. She had raised her brows on more than one occasion this day already. Yes, it was quite warm. Warm enough for her to shed her heavy sweater to the softer silk blouse underneath.

She had not seen him laugh often, not like this. His whole body shook with delight. It attracted her. What was it about him? She knew. It was everything. It was form, his features. It was his personality, and his strength. It was his thoughtfulness, his caring ways. It was the way he showed his softer side only to her. It was the rough exterior he used in his work. It was his eyes, how they gave his true feelings away. It was his mouth, how she ached to touch it, to claim it. She was so close...the whistle blew, jolting her back to reality. Clarisse had lost herself. She couldn't help but damn the train whistle.

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"Do you really think it's safe, Joseph?" She crossed her arms, wondering if her boys had listened to her.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Perfectly safe. It's stopped snowing, and the sun has come out." He looked straight at her, pressing her to agree. "It's never been a better time to sled."

"Oh, fine." She knew she had lost anyway. Her boys were already dressed, half out the door, as she yelled, "Stay on the grounds!"

"I know you're worried, but they need to be boys, normal ones." Joseph stressed his thought.

"I know, I really do." She nodded, still uneasy about them being out by their selves.

"Besides, it will give me time to recover." Joseph stretched his arms, moaning as if he was much older. He had made her smile. Life was good.

"You've travelled some distance today," she said, motioning toward the nearest train station.

"All in the line of duty, madam." Joseph put on his most serious facade. "I have to admit, I had good company," motioning to her.

"Me? Nonsense. I did nothing."

"On the contrary. You, Clarisse, provided the entertainment." He had no longer gotten the words out than he realized what he had said. Looking to her, he couldn't help but tell her the truth. "You are the most amazing view this trip has had to offer."

She swallowed hard, trying to control the billions of excited nerve endings throughout her body. "Well, thank you." Never had anyone spoke to her like that before. In truth, it even made her blush a little. It felt wonderful, warm and right.

"Come," was all he said, giving her his arm. She took it, a little hesitantly at first, but then followed wholeheartedly. They walked toward the middle of the room, glancing at the boys outside as they passed the windows. He let go of her arm, motioning for her to stay. She stood still, arching her brows in thought as to what he was up to.

Jumping over a miniature village, he reached for the stereo, flicking on the power. Not wanting to spend any more time waiting, he picked up the first CD on the shelf. It wasn't the best he could think of, but it would do. He slid it in, and turned back to her. Joseph stood admiring her, watching her subtle movements as she stood, now understanding his actions. It was she that reached for him this time, as she began to sway to the music that filled the room.

As he caught her arms, he pulled her close. He wanted to feel her body grazing over his. He knew it was wrong, but it felt like something he had to do to survive. It was like breathing, or drinking, or sleeping. Yes, he would dance with her, for as long as she allowed. They would dance with hardly air between them, only under their feet. He couldn't help but look in her eyes. He was ashamed for what he was thinking, but he was unable to stop himself. The more he touched her, the more he wanted to touch her. Feeling her body like this was total euphoria, yet he knew there was even a better feeling than this, and he wanted to feel it. He wanted to feel it with her. Moving his face so unbelievably closer, Joseph felt the warm air she exhaled. Tightening his hold on her, he slowed the dance. Clarisse didn't pull away, she didn't falter. She moved towards him, towards his lips. So close...

"Mother!" a voice shouted as the door flew open. "Mother, it's wonderful! We should come up here more often." Philippe's voice trailed on, a mass of words describing the entire scenery of the mountain. He chatted on aimlessly, oblivious to the two dancers, still holding onto one another, slightly swaying. Neither wanted to lose eye contact, or any contact. They had been so close, but in a wrong way. Not here, each seemed to be saying to the other. Just not here. It was too open, open to the boys, not to mention the staff.

They parted, holding onto each others fingers for as long as possible. Clarisse knew, and Joseph realized that Philippe had no intention of letting the two of them have any privacy. He was having too much fun, and had to share the glory with his family and friend. The burst of cold air had been good for them. It cooled the blush to their faces, but made no dent in the heat coming from their bodies. That heat, Joseph knew, was dangerous. It was the kind of heat that is only sated by it's match. His match was her.

We do hope you liked it, and we'd be really grateful if you'd review!

Yours,

The Authors