Seized by Love (22 page)

For the better part of a fortnight now, Alisa had been squired around a frantic whirl of parties, dances, and dinners by Prince Mikhail and Princess Kaisa-leena; the Prince determined to see that Alisa was enjoying herself regardless of Nikki. Removing Alisa from Nikki’s embrace wasn’t without a shrewd intent on the part of his father, who knew his son’s need of women. For Alisa it was pure anger and revenge; she’d show Nikolai Mikhailovich Kuzan she was quite capable of having a marvelous time without him.

In spite of Alisa’s vengeful intent, she woke up one morning after a particularly grueling evening and decided she could no longer continue. She must get away. She was exhausted, sick, and nauseated again. The ball last night had lasted until four. After returning home she’d slept poorly. All the feverish activity was taking its toll; she
found polite enthusiasm more and more arduous to summon. One must always appear cheerful, vivacious, and interested, when the only person she was interested in scarce recognized her in a crowd. This wasn’t working; no matter how kind Nikki’s parents were, she resolved to leave, out of a combination of fatigue, despondency, and grief.

Alisa sent a footman with a message to Aleksei, requesting him to escort her shopping in an hour. Hastily dressing in a sedate walking costume of brown silk, a coarse straw hat lined with velvet perched on her curls, she gulped a cup of tea in an attempt to ease the nausea. Then she went to her jewel box and, with only a moment’s hesitation, plunged the splendid emerald necklace Nikki had given her into her reticule and rushed downstairs to find Aleksei already in the front hall, waiting.

“Thank you, Aleksei. You’re always to be depended on.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, Alisa.” In his nineteen-year-old puppy infatuation, he sincerely meant it. She explained in the coach what she intended to do, and they set off for 28 Morskaija, the street where the finest shops were situated. Aleksei promised to help; he could find an apartment for her; of course he’d be delighted to assist her.

The jeweler who’d sold the necklace to Nikki was more than obliging about buying the emeralds back.

“
Certainement
, Madame, we’d be more than willing.”

The price offered astounded Alisa; she could live three years on the proceeds if she were frugal. Profuse thanks were exchanged, and the business was concluded.

Alisa returned to the palace in prodigious fine spirits, sustained by thoughts of thwarting Nikki. She would leave and fie to him! Aleksei said she had but to ask and his time was hers.

“In a few days, Aleksei, we’ll go apartment hunting. You can help me find my new home.”

•  •  •

The idea of living alone didn’t hold as much pleasure as the day progressed. Alisa lay on her bed that afternoon, moodily contemplating life without Nikki. Could she do it after all, now that her pique of anger had passed and she wasn’t as irritable and tired as this morning.

Her musings were interrupted as a sharp rap sounded on her door, and in his usual way Nikki walked in without waiting for a reply. Still dressed in buckskins and tweeds from an afternoon ride, he strode, ill-humoredly glowering, over to the bed and tossed the emerald necklace at Alisa’s feet.

“Mrs. Forseus,” he said in a glacial murmur, a wintry smile on his face, “I wish you wouldn’t be so ready to dispose of my gifts. It smacks of the mercenary, designing professional. If your need of pin money has reached these proportions, I’m sure you could have easily approached my father or myself.”

“How … how did you find out?” Alisa stammered, since no more than four hours had elapsed since her visit to the jeweler.

“Mr. Fabergé and I are acquaintances of long standing, so he informed me immediately when the necklace I purchased so recently had been resold. With all due sincerity he felt I should know that my inamorata was quite desperate for funds. Have you gaming debts, my dear?”

“No!” she snapped. “I’m leaving and I need money.”

“If it’s Cernov, I’ll—” His scowl deepened and he glared at her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alisa tartly replied, giving him back look for look. “I’m simply getting my own apartment.”

Nikki’s brow lifted as a flicker of relief shone in his eyes.

“If that’s all you want, why didn’t you say something?” The tense crease between his brows relaxed.

“You’ve not been exactly available these many days past, Monsieur.”

“Rest assured, my love, the oversight will be remedied. I’ll have Ivan find you something suitable tomorrow. This damn living in my parents’ apartments has been hellishly inconvenient.”

A smile broke across his handsome face. “It’ll be pleasant to have you for myself again without my parents’ affronted breath constantly on my neck.”

“I think you misunderstand, Prince,” Alisa flung back at him defiantly. “I wish to live alone.
Alone!
” she distinctly enunciated.

His smile disappeared in an instant.

“In that case, Madame, you will stay here. I’ll not have you available for all the lecherous acquaintances of mine to patronize. Keep the money, but if you attempt to leave, I’ll have you locked in … and to hell with Father,” he growled.

“Remember now, I mean what I say,” he said ominously. “If you try to flee, I’ll run you to ground within the day, and if I’m put to that irksome exertion, you’ll find my temper disagreeable. Dammit, Madame,” he exploded, “you
will
do as I say!” And so commanding he turned and left the room.

Like a bird in a gilded cage, she dismally reflected. Why was she so unhappy, so desolate. If he would just say he cared, she sadly thought. Why couldn’t he say he cared?

The party-going resumed, both Alisa and Nikki perhaps even more deliberately provoking to each other. Out of spite, for the effort was excruciatingly boring, Nikki occasionally paid homage to young Emilie, preferably at a ball or a party where he didn’t have to endure long stretches of her undiluted company, but by and large Nikki had returned to spending his evenings at the club. His gambling and drinking were deep and heavy, his remarks often bordering on the insulting. A defiant recklessness spurred his
actions and even his closest friends judiciously chose to tread warily, not eager to provoke his sarcasm or find themselves at the other end of his dueling pistol.

Precisely at two each night Yukko would appear at his side, the cards would be discarded regardless of the hand, irrespective of his gains or losses; Nikki would rise slowly, offer polite excuses to his partners, and stroll out of the club, followed by Yukko.

Each night, in turn, curious, watchful eyebrows were raised as Prince Kuzan’s late appearance was duly noted at the parties, routs, or festivities graced by his beautiful “cousin.”

Invariably, he would sullenly lean against one of the walls, drink in hand, nursing his anger, and follow with glowering eyes the slender figure of Alisa as she whirled past in a waltz or flirted brightly with the young officers.

One evening an old tabby approached Nikki and remarked injudiciously with a jolly little titter, “It appears your cousin is quite surrounded by admirers, and just when it had been rumored that you had developed a tendre for the poor creature.” (The “poor creature” in this instance was laughing gaily at some sally from young Count Berzlov. She was arrayed in a sumptuous creation of green gauze and diamond brilliants decorated with sprays of silk apple blossoms tied in place with green velvet bows, her ripe, luscious bosom a foil for the magnificent emeralds.) Nikki watched her and seethed.

“It seems you are most alarmingly hindered by rivals. For one must admit your cousin is beautiful as sin.”

“Countess,” Nikki replied as calmly as his inebriated mind was capable, “my ‘cousin’ ”—he purred the word maliciously—“occasionally lacks discrimination in her friendships. But let me suggest, Madame, that in the future perhaps I shall remedy her shortcoming,” he finished acerbically, bowed insolently, and walked away.

Since being locked out from Alisa’s bedroom, Nikki’s temper hadn’t been improved by his unaccustomed celibacy. Emilie was untouchable, had he even felt the inclination, which he didn’t. There was little challenge in such a simpering child, and little pleasure, too, he imagined. The four incidents with dancers hardly counted; merely a perfunctory performance briefly engaged and as rapidly forgotten. Other women simply didn’t look interesting anymore. Damn Alisa’s alluring ways! He couldn’t shake from his thoughts the beauty and sensuality of this unique, infuriating minx.

It had been a long, frustrating, exceptionally irritating two weeks. With a palpable but losing effort he was attempting to maintain some semblance of control over his growing irritation.

They met quite by accident one evening, two nights later.

Alisa, having been left by her partners, who went solicitously to fetch her an ice, heard a familiar chuckle and whirled around. Nikki was standing almost directly behind her, lounging against a pillar.

For over a fortnight he’d treated her with coolness when they met at a social affair or in the rooms of the Kuzan palace. The golden eyes that stared into hers were both insolent and admiring.

“
Merde
, you look demure. A creditable feat for a whore clothed in that gown. Are you displaying your wares for the highest bidder? The gauze of your bodice almost reveals more than it covers.” The sarcasm coiled around her, silky smooth and faintly menacing as he approached.

“At least, should I choose to accept one of the bidders, I can offer him warmth in bed, which is more than you’ll get from that pale confection of a mechanical doll you have
been squiring around. How is she in bed, by the way?” Alisa retorted angrily.

“Not much good,” he lied. “But one can always find someone else to warm my flesh, my dear, should I tire of the giggling,” he coldly declared as his eyes lingered on her pretty breasts which were almost completely exposed. “May I compliment you on the effectiveness of your ensemble. Never have I seen wantonness so beautifully unclothed. One’s imagination quite runs apace. You fairly invite ravishment dressed in such a fashion,” he bluntly went on as his bold glance swept Alisa’s form in the blue silk ball gown draped with a tunic of tulle trimmed with cut-outs of lace appliqué. “We’re all waiting breathlessly to see if your gown will contain those luscious breasts so precariously balanced above these wisps of tulle,” his sneering voice intoned as his long, lean index finger insolently flicked the offending blue tulle ruffles.

“Don’t touch me,” Alisa whispered hoarsely.

“They’re probably taking bets in the card room right now as to whether you stay in or out of your dress tonight. May I offer my services in helping you out of it?” Nikki leered. “Although, no doubt, every man in this room will be equally eager to offer you the same assistance.”

A red flush rose up Alisa’s slender neck and flamed on her cheeks.

“Blushing, my love? Outfitted in this gown that leaves so little to the imagination? I would have conjectured you were beyond maidenly blushes and soon into a new bed.”

“And thanks to your excellent tutoring, Prince Kuzan, my new bed partners won’t be disappointed in my accomplishments,” she spitefully cooed.

“Did I remember to teach you everything?” Nikki paused in mocking thoughtfulness. “In any event, I’m sure your resourcefulness will prevail, but just a word of warning.
Although your lovers, no doubt, won’t be disappointed, you might be.” He grinned.

It was too much. Alisa turned and walked away in a furious rage, damning his insufferable arrogance.

The next several of Alisa’s partners were nervously disconcerted to find their waltzing even more carefully followed by the coldly watchful eyes of Prince Kuzan, who was now holding up another pillar and refreshing himself rather regularly as the footmen went by with champagne. One might almost think he was trying to get drunk as he tossed down a glass, reached for another and repeated the action.

Lt. Bobrinski in the deep throes of infatuation made the mistake of waltzing Alisa through the large arcade into the conservatory. Nikki with apparent calm drained his champagne glass and followed. Alisa and the lieutenant were seated on a delicate iron bench under the brilliant display of a blossoming gardenia tree. Lieutenant Bobrinski was ardently pouring out his love to an embarrassed Alisa, offering her his hand, his heart, his rather considerable wealth.

With a baleful eye and a temper goaded beyond civility, Nikki surveyed this tender scene and then walked boldly up to the couple, interrupting Alisa in the midst of her confused acknowledgment of the deep honor she felt in having Pavlov regard her with so much affection.

Nikki’s imperturbable voice finished Alisa’s flustered statement by drawling, “Tempting as your offer is, Pavlov, my friend, I’m afraid Mrs. Forseus rather counts on having me for a husband.”

The Lieutenant began protesting.

Quite pleasantly Nikki told him to be quiet, then continued. “If you will excuse us, Pavlov,” Nikki said coolly, fixing him with a look of such cold malevolence that the young Lieutenant stammered his adieus and hastily retreated.

“Must you always interfere?” Alisa flashed angrily.

“You wouldn’t really consider marrying the pup, would you, my dear?” Nikki drawled.

“A lot more than I would ever consider marrying you,” she retorted rudely.

“Ah, may I disagree with you, my love? But then, as the saying goes, since nobody asked you,” he murmured dampingly, “I fear we shall never know. And then, darling, think what a shock Pavlov would have if you were to give birth to a child before you had time to marry or shortly after the ceremony. Now, if the child were Pavlov’s, there would be no problem, even if it was born six months prematurely. As he well knows, being a direct descendant of Catherine the Great and Orloff, there is no stigma attached to illegitimacy if one’s rank in society is lofty enough. But his family might frown on unanticipated progeny.”

“Pavlov knows me as a widow just recently bereaved. A posthumous child is not without precedent,” she spat out irritably at Nikki’s smug countenance.

“Not, however, when the child is born bearing my stamp,” he quellingly retorted. “These black, wolfish features have an embarrassing inclination to reproduce,” he softly murmured. “So you see, a posthumous child in my image might require a bit of explaining. Am I not right?”