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Authors: Susan Johnson

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She hesitated. “No, Nikki,” she said at last. She moved her legs to make herself wide for him.

“Are you ready for me?” he cruelly continued, stroking her harder. Almost hurting her.

“Yes,” she murmured, her eyes closed, too ashamed to look at him. Nikki exhaled a deep breath of satisfaction, his desire for vengeance gratified.

Dropping down, he took her then, no longer in fury but in hunger. She drew him deeper and deeper into herself, shuddering in ecstasy with each plunging stroke, holding him fiercely against each withdrawal. She was wild, begging
him with her body to stay inside her. He brought her to a tumultuous climax and lay quiet in her as the waves of pleasure died away, then brought her up to the peak again before he allowed himself to reach fulfillment.

“My compliments to a bewitching, dutiful mistress,” he whispered, kissing her tenderly. He fell asleep cradling Alisa in his arms. But she found sleep elusive, mortified by her body’s traitorous desires.

Chapter Nine
THE BEGUILING BELLE

Rising early the next morning without disturbing Nikki, Alisa dressed and went downstairs to breakfast. A melancholy pervaded her thoughts as she regretted the passions that put her so mercilessly under Nikki’s domination, while a slow anger remained over Nikki’s gross perfidy in coming straight from Sophie’s bed to hers. She toyed with her breakfast in an abstracted silence, responding only mechanically to the friendly conversation of Nikki’s parents as they attempted to restore her normally cheerful spirits. Kaisa-leena sympathized with her son’s lovesick mistress and sought ways to comfort her; she was not too old to remember the torment of loving with the despairing gloom of youth. The old Prince fulminated blackly, personally disposed to thrash his son if it would do the least bit of good. Sighing resignedly as he viewed the folly of that
useless endeavor, he decided instead on a course of action that might be more successful. He wanted Nikki to marry this fascinating young woman who was bearing his grandchild but balked at the use of naked power to achieve his ends. He could, of course, quite literally compel Nikki to wed the girl, but preferred less harsh measures. But he would not be gainsaid; he would bring his recalcitrant son to heel one way or another, by force if necessary, but first—a more subtle attempt.

“Alisa, my pet, after that disgraceful spectacle created by Nikki and Sophie last evening at the Golchoffs’ ball, might I hope to persuade you to move your quarters to our wing, at least temporarily. I think that scapegrace son of mine deserves a setabout. Would you be receptive to the idea? Kaisa-leena and I would be delighted to have you in our apartments.” (And in a palace boasting ninety-two bed-rooms, the distance factor was considerable from the parents’ east wing to the son’s west wing.)

Alisa’s eyes lit up in relief. The perfect solution to her dilemma. She couldn’t control herself when Nikki was pressing his suit, and it would serve him right for his arrogant, dominating attitude. She would simply remove herself from the temptation of Nikki’s soft lips and practiced hands. Memories of last night’s tempestuous act of union outraged her whenever she recalled the humiliation he’d forced on her. She lifted her chin determinedly and smiled.

“An excellent idea, Monsieur, for I fear your son has very little use for me after all.” Would this retaliation even suit? Indeed, would Nikki even care? She knew with a desperate hopelessness that she cared very much if he missed her. A pang of great loneliness, even amid the devotion and friendship of Nikki’s parents’ concern, enveloped her. She was as alone as she had been for the past six years. One could ultimately rely on no one but oneself in this
world, and sometimes the emptiness of that solitude was overwhelming.

“We shall see about that, my dear child. I think the young fool will find your absence provoking.”

Later in the day, after Nikki had gone out, the change was effected. That evening at dinner, when apprised of the alteration, Nikki didn’t rage or threaten. In fact, Alisa noted with consternation, he scarcely evinced any noticeable sign of acknowledgment. The drumming pulse in his temple would have been visible to only the most astute observer as Nikki casually drawled, “I see, Father, you’re up to some scheme. Pray don’t be disappointed if I fail to rise to the lure.”

He consumed his meal with his usual careless indifference, perhaps imbibing one or two more glasses of wine than normal, politely asked to be excused when the third course was served, declaring he had recalled an urgent matter requiring his attention, rose unhurriedly to his feet, drew himself up to his full commanding height, courteously bid his adieus, and strolled in immaculate evening dress out of the dining room.

Prince Mikhail accompanied Alisa and Princess Kaisa-leena to a dancing party that evening, and when Alisa caught sight of Nikki walking in with a very young lady dressed demurely in pale pink organza, the shock was like a dagger in her heart. Her despair wasn’t improved when, later in the evening, Countess Amalienborg with her customary disregard, sat down next to Alisa and, leaning confidentially close, began inquiring in an apparently polite fashion of her relationship with the Kuzans. Alisa was too disconsolate to parry the swift ripostes.

“Come, come, my dear, the green-eyed monster is too apparent. Your heart is in your eyes,
chérie
.” Without pity,
the worldly, smiling woman continued. “It is only natural he should have wanted you; you are quite a diverting little beauty and he is, after all, a healthy young animal, but, my dear, please don’t pine so openly. He’s an incorrigible rogue and has affairs without number, all of which are short-lived. Nikki is the most notorious rake in town, has a horrid temper, and every scrap of scandalous rumor you hear of him is true. But because of his outrageous charm, wealth, and breeding he’s still the most eligible
parti
in Petersburg and received in even the most reserved drawing rooms; in point of fact, I’ve just learned that he paid a morning call today on sweet little Emilie Belkenkoff, on whom he is dancing attendance tonight. This remarkable visit quite effectively threw Emilie’s mother into delighted speculation. Nikki simply never calls on sweet young chits in the daytime.”

The significance of the timing of that visit was very clear. He’d not even known she was moving from her room that morning. The transfer hadn’t taken place till late afternoon. She was evidently only another of his short-lived affairs. Alisa’s temper blazed, the melancholy burned away in a fire of resentment. Her violet eyes under her heavy lashes turned royal purple to match her royal rage.

“This morning?” she inquired coldly.

“This morning,” Sophie cooed.

Had Nikki taken the notion in his head to court the pink-frosting confection? He’d always declared his intention to settle on a biddable schoolroom miss, and if he chose to pay addresses, no young miss could remain entirely indifferent to his practiced charm and handsome good looks. Someone like young Emilie, who couldn’t be over seventeen, must be in love at first sight. Alisa glanced up to see Nikki across the room, bending solicitously over a seated Emilie, talking quietly with an admiring attention upon that sweet, upturned face.

Soothingly patting Alisa on the knee as she rose to leave, Sophie’s malevolent intentions fully realized, she said with an air of benevolent condescension, “I am sure,
chérie
, that you’ll find a very suitable husband from among these young blades panting after you. Someone eminently more suitable to your station in life. Nikki can, after all, as a Prince of one of the finest families, look much higher than a poor, obscure young widow with a child, and young Emilie’s antecedents are impeccable.”

“No doubt it will be refreshing. After Nikki’s usual dalliance with, as you say, obscure widows and”—Alisa pointedly continued—“jaded sluts, a bonbon of such obvious naïveté as Emilie will be a welcome change.”

The thrust hit home, for the Countess turned swiftly on her heel and left in a huff without replying.

Alisa watched Nikki dance with the dainty young girl, a sugar-plum kind of female, all pink and white and softly rounded, dressed in multitudinous pink ruffles adorned with crème roses. Her pale corn-silk hair had been fashionably arranged, pulled up high and bouffantly in front, while glossy golden curls cascaded down the back of her neck and onto her smooth white shoulders. Indeed, it would have been hard to find fault with her appearance. Nikki was carrying on his customary charmingly insouciant conversation, to which the innocent young girl could only blush or giggle in reply.

For the twentieth time that night, Nikki made one of those bland social remarks necessary to occasions such as this. “You waltz quite enchantingly, my dear.” He waited patiently for the inevitable. It came after half a heartbeat—the trilled little flight of nervous laughter. Nikki gritted his teeth and glided into a wide turn. He felt sorry for the nervous, sweet thing. She was out of her league, unpracticed in elegant badinage, but sympathy didn’t necessarily behoove obligation, he abruptly decided. Smothering a
yawn, his attention wandering to contemplate a ripe brunette with shiny ringlets and a practiced eye who was scrutinizing him. Through force of habit he gave the blooming brunette a wicked wink over the cornflower-blond head.

Thankfully, the waltz ended and he returned young Emilie to her beaming mama, who was probably already measuring him for the marriage bed, then sauntered slowly across the floor toward Alisa. As he approached the swarm of young swains milling around Alisa, the crowd parted and quickly drifted away under the steely gaze Nikki bestowed on each of them. After curtly nodding dismissal to one of Alisa’s lingering admirers more foolhardy than the rest, Nikki drawled, “Must you, Madame, constantly surround yourself with such lovesick pups? I should think you’d find the conversation tedious.”

“You should talk, Prince Kuzan. Aren’t sweet, witless young misses equally tedious? I swear, that little blonde appeared to do nothing but blush or titter,” Alisa answered him acerbically.

“Alas, Madame, quite true, and while she’s not entirely witless, she’s as near to it as makes no difference”—Nikki sighed and shrugged eloquently—“so I think my duty dances for the evening will now suffice. I fear my background of vice and dissipation has little acquainted me with the pleasures of virtuous young women.”

The direct cut was blunt and deliberate.

Alisa’s eyes sparked in anger as she purred spitefully, “Perhaps what you need, Prince Kuzan, is an introduction to more virtuous pursuits. Who knows, you may not be totally sunk beyond redemption. A few evenings or afternoons in the company of that pink and white miss might be rewarding.”

“Egad, woman, are you mad? Two dances was enough to give me a headache. I’m off to take the perfect remedy now
—a bottle of brandy. Would you care to join me, my sweet?”

“Thank you no, I shall continue to converse with these young gallants in hope of raising myself somewhat from the depths of depravity, as you so frankly put it. These young blades have a refreshing youthful charm.”

Nikki had no idée fixe on women’s morality, but his views on his mistress’s morality were decided.

“As you wish, just so long as you offer no more than conversation. I prefer your charms to remain exclusively mine,” he finished, his eyes amused as he noted Alisa’s angry response.

“We are not all indiscriminate whores like Countess Amalienborg, Monsieur.”

“How
very
reassuring, my love.” Nikki raised her hand to his lips and brushed Alisa’s fingertips with his warm breath while he gently massaged her palm. “Adieu, my love, until later,” he murmured imperturbably as Alisa flushed pink at his touch and tried to snatch her hand away. Deliberately holding her hand a few moments more before relinquishing it, he grinned faintly, gave a swift bow, turned on his heel, and began strolling toward the card room.

Alisa willed herself to control the rising pulsations Nikki’s touch had evoked. Damn him! His merest touch set off sensuous ripples through her veins. She shook away the disturbing tremors with grim determination and looked up, smiling lightly at Lieutenant Polovtsev who was the first to reappear at her side.

Chapter Ten
THE ANGRY LOVER

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