Chap5.

Never had Clarisse felt so confused after what had happened that day. He had literally controlled her. She could still feel his breath against her lips which where willfully awaiting a kiss she knew would taste wonderful, when her son had burst in. She partly wished he hadn't but she thanked God he had, for she knew if that had not been the case, she would likely have let everything go and kissed him. Not that she didn't want to, she wanted that more than anything, but to have done it, to silently promise him and then know she could do nothing to let them be together, was wrong.

She would have dropped it all; the title, the status, the money, the horrible duty, all to be with him - even if she didn't know if this was what being in love felt like.

She wasn't sure why she wanted to feel his breath on her body, to hear him call her name. She enjoyed his attention, she enjoyed knowing he wanted her, she prayed he knew she returned that with just as much zeal. She wanted him, she wanted to feel his hands on her, she wanted to be able to know she could go to him. She wanted him to love her, just as much as she loved him.

She sighed, trying to rid herself of all thoughts of him but no matter how hard she tried, he was always there. Always at the back of her mind, chipping away at her resistance.

Lifting herself out of the chair, she pulled her fur wrap around her. She moved over to the window, watching the three figures carrying out a rather rough snowball war. After she had been mere millimetres from his lips, so close she could still feel his hot breath on them, he had left. Philippe had begged and for that, she was glad. She was glad they had something to distract them, she was afraid that if that hadn't been there - she'd be lying in bed with him. Not that she didn't want that, but it was so much more that that, it was love. She wasn't imagining it, she knew what it was, but she wanted to run away from it.

She watched them roll and dive in the snow, Joseph aiming football sized snow balls at the 2 boys. It looked like they were having fun and she didn't want to ruin it but nightfall was fast approaching and they hadn't eaten either.

Pulling open the heavy door, she stepped onto the porch. She inhaled the cool air deeply, trying to gather her thoughts that seemed to be whizzing 100 miles above her in the sky. She stepped into the deep snow, her shoes sinking into it. Ever the queen, she managed to trudge gracefully through the ice at her feet.

Joseph saw her, completely dressed in white, moving towards them. Soft flakes of snow rested on her hair and eye lashes, giving her an almost inhumanly beautiful appearance. Nothing could prevent him from wanting her, from wanting her in his arms. He could almost imagine it, fantasize about kissing her, holding her in his arms. He often wondered if it was healthy to want something you could never have so much. He wanted to run away from it, to hope that if he wasn't near her the want would disappear.

"Hello gentleman," she smiled. He tried to catch her eye, tried to convey something to her. He couldn't help but get the feeling she was avoiding him, he didn't blame her. He knew how close they had been, God! He wished he could hold her. He could imagine it, he had fantasised it, he had spent nights lying in bed simply thinking about her.

"Come on," she tried, " time to go inside, you've had your fun." The two boys faces fell immediately, looking to Joseph to try and win them some extra time. He looked a little sullen as well. But Clarisse had the lurching feeling that it certainly wasn't from her putting a stop to their fun.

"Oh but Mama," Pierre sniffed, "a little longer, just a little." She began to stare him down and he knew it was useless. Motioning for his brother, who reluctantly dropped a snow ball, they traipsed back to the lodge, their faces longer than their bodies.

She quickly followed, dreading a circumstance where she had to be alone with him.

He lagged behind her, wishing he could reach out for her…….he didn't. They didn't exchange a glance or mutter a word as they trudged over the icy snow.

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As they sat around the sitting area, the atmosphere was painfully strained. She couldn't look at him for fear of never looking away. The silence, even though the boys chatted animatedly, was defining. She was so distracted, so distressed that she had hardly eaten at dinner. His constant attempts at making eye contact were fruitless. She refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge what she felt for him. The fire cracked softly, offering some sort of noise as the boys began to quieten down and get drowsy.

"Philippe, Pierre," she said softly, lifting her youngest son off of the couch, "come on, it's time you went to bed." He struggled in her arms a moment, moaning he wasn't tired but then settled in, cuddling into his mothers chest. Pierre lifted himself languidly, following behind his mother as she mounted the stairs.

Joseph watched them go from his seat by the fire. Sitting back heavily, he stared into the cold coffee in his cup. He found himself wishing the contents of that cup where something a little stronger, something to ease the pain.

Out the window, the snow was falling in soft flakes now, cold and icy and dark - he had reason to believe the weather outside was mimicking the moods of the woman who was moving lightly above him, putting her children to sleep. Nothing could stop him wanting her, it was impossible. Coming here had been a terrible idea, spending time with her without the prying eyes of the palace was harder on him. The urge to kiss her, the urge to tell her how he felt was made stronger by what had happened earlier that day. How near her lips had been still made him tingle, still made him want to be in that dangerous but beautiful situation.

He heard her soft footsteps come down the stairs, her long legs first, then her perfect body. She walked past where he was, as if he wasn't there. He was angry at her for ignoring him but he understood. He heard her busy herself in the kitchen, the kettle whistling and tea being poured.

She looked so strained, so upset as she exited the kitchen. Again she walked past him but this time, this time he did something. Standing up he gently gripped her arm. She jumped, dropping her cup with the steaming tea as it shattered on the floor. Her eyes were suddenly full of fear.

"Clarisse, I must- we need-," words failed him and he just stood there gripping her arm, his eyes staring into hers as she shook under his touch. Suddenly the heat, the urge the need became so over powering. His lips descended on hers, softly landing on her perfect mouth. She was motionless in his arms, her breathing hard and uneven as he pulled away. He couldn't read her eyes or her actions or how she felt but hell, he felt better.

She ripped her arms from his and wrapped it round his neck, pressing her lips to his, searing and hot and passionate and that was it………… he was hers.

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The authors.