Part 2

The royal head of security unleashed a mighty hell toward his men. The search was to be extended beyone the grounds, and as far as the city limits. They were still to remain silent, the absence of the Queen was a royal affair. He knew she'd be home by nightfall, as she always was. Still he had his job to do, and right now it was to find her.

He found himself thinking of her, how close they had become the past year. They had even found themselves into deep conversations, not about what life had given them, but about what they had wanted from life. He found her oh so interesting, so captivating. She could light up the night sky by herself. He snickered as he thought to himself that his Queen would never be in the dark. Why did he even care?

He shouted even more orders, directed mainly at his security men, and then gave the palace guards a look of hatred as they stood, seemingly bored. He followed several of his best men as they headed to the stables. Once around the grounds again, and then off towards the city.

"Going someplace Queenie?" She heard his voice before she even registered what she had done. Her captor had heard her, and been waiting underneath the window for her. She had fallen right on him, as he held out his arms to catch her.

"Yes, I'm going away from here." With those words she began beating on his chest, kicking her legs, scratching at his face, and overall fighting for her life.

As if she had no effect on him at all, he tightened his grip on her and carried her back inside. This time it was he that dropped her on the floor. He stepped back to lock the door once again, and she was up and beating on him again. "She has spirit," he thought to himself.

"SIT DOWN!" he growled. It wasn't that it was loud, but it was altogether just scarry. Clarisse backed away, trying to regain a little composure. "Now, I told you before, this doesn't have to be hard. I don't want to hurt you. " He didn't. He couldn't imagine himself having to harm her. He looked in her eyes and for a moment thought he saw a tear. His heart broke. He felt himself soften. He wanted to help her, wanted to make all this go away for her.

"Let me go, please." Clarisse's words were almost inaudible. He was staring at her, yet she wasn't afraid. It was all in his eyes. He wasn't going to hurt her. She almost found him to be a friend.

"I can't let you go. I have my instructions. I don't know how long you'll be here, but you don't have to make it so hard. Just relax. You may even enjoy yourself Queenie."

"Don't call me that."

"Queenie, that's who you are, is it not?"

"Clarisse, my name is Clarisse."

"You ask all your subjects to call you by your given name?"

Her whole demeanor was melting in his voice. She found herself talking just to hear him. "No, only those I feel close to."

"and you feel close to me?"

"Well, since we are going to be here ...together...for who knows how long... I don't see any harm in you calling me by my name. It's certainly better than Queenie."

"Very well, Clarisse. I can tell you and I are going to get along just fine."

They stood there, looking into each other. They had only been together for hours, yet they could see through each other.

"Well, Clarisse, are you hungry? You haven't eaten all day. Perhaps you and I can get to know one another."

"Why are you doing this? This seems so, well, so beneath you."

"To be totally honest with you, I'm only doing this for the money. I know very little of what's actually going on. I was told to keep you here, hidden, until I recieved a call to drop you off at the palace gate. The money was to be a substantial amount, and I could very well retire to a life of luxury. All for just sitting here with you."

"I see."

Over the next hour Clarisse and her captor explored each others lives over a hot meal. It was more like two friends getting together for lunch. She felt easy with him. He was so...suave, so dashing, so much more a man than her own husband. Yet he was a kidnapper. Her kidnapper. The thought excited her immensly.

He could hardly keep his eyes off her. The way her mouth formed words was beyond sensual, and when she ate, mercy, when she ate he wanted to reach over and touch her lips, feeling the movement of her mouth under his touch.

The day had been long for him. He couldn't understand it. Usually she would have returned by now, not caring that anyone had missed her. He had expected it, everyone had expected it. Still the Queen of Genovia was missing. He was not looking forward to the conversation with his King, which he had put off for too long already. He had found nothing, his men had found nothing. The royal guards, the housekeepers, the groundsmen, the stable hands, the maintainence workers, the butlers, the ladys' maids; they all had a part in searching for her. No one had seen anything. Something had gotten by them.

He found himself outside of her suite, missing their evening conversation. They had established that ritual over a year ago. Needless to say, they had gotten to know each other fairly well. At least he had thought so. He walked inside, switched the light, and found himself praying she would be there. He could almost see her now. She would be sitting, sipping her tea, watching the flames from the small fire that would have been built for her. She would look up and smile at him. He took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and remembered her. Her scent lingered in the air, and now his lungs. It circulated to his head, making him dizzy.

Opening his eyes he came back to reality. He looked around, not knowing what he was looking for. Nothing. Nothing.

Her laughter was like angels singing to him. He found himself engrossed in her. He also found himself regretting his choice of occupation. However, he would have never met her. "Can I get you something else, Clarisse?"

"No, no I'm fine," suddenly realizing her answer. How could she be fine? She was kidnapped for heavens sake. Yet she didn't seem to mind anymore.

"You have a beautiful smile."

"Thank you."

"Somehow I don't believe you use it much."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well you do not seem to miss your husband. You have not mentioned him at all since you have been here. You are not happy with him." He took a chance and told her what he really thought. After all, he was in enough trouble as it was.

Clarisse was jolted back to who she really was, Queen of Genovia. Was that who she really was? Debating the issue to herself took several moments. Then she spoke calmly and honestly, "I don't know why I trust you. I hardly know you. What little I know of you should not make me trust you like I do. My marriage was arranged when I was but a young girl. No, love has nothing to do with it. No, I am not happy with it. Yet, I love my country. I will, I do, do everything for it I can. I love being Queen of Genovia. Not the power, nor the money, reguardless of what you hear. I like people. I love meeting them, speaking with or to them, helping them. I know that sometimes I am needed. Rupert is a good King, yes. He doesn't listen to them however. He hears what they say, but just does not listen. I know I am the link between him and the people."

"So your answer is no."

"No?"

"No, you don't smile much."

She smiled, "No, no I don't."

"Well Clarisse, can I trust you to not go jumping out of windows tonight, or do I have to sleep outside under it?"

She smiled once again, "No, no you can sleep inside. I wouldn't want you to freeze."

"How kind of you. May I escort you to your door?"

"Yes, you may."

He rose and took her hand. She stood but held still. He turned to face her. She was beautiful. Her hand touched his cheek. His arm pulled her close. There was no denying the attraction, no escaping the fireworks, no running away at all. They both silently made the choice. Their lips met, softly, tenderly.

"Well, I have to say this is the best job I have ever had."

"And I have to say you are the best kidnapper I have ever had."

"I aim to please," he suddenly turned serious. "Tomorrow we have to talk."

"Yes tomorrow, but right now it's late, we should sleep on this."

"Goodnight Clarisse."

"Goodnight...oh my...I don't know your name. We have spoke of everything today, and I don't even know your name."

"Tomorrow," was all he said.