Seized by Love (31 page)

“Come now,” he insisted half kindly in his natural lazy tone, “you must summon the necessary energy to withstand the lengthy receiving line of our well-wishers.”

Obediently Alisa drank slowly; the liquor burned down her throat and coursed through her bloodstream, soon reviving her failing senses.

With an amiable courtesy Nikki entertained Alisa quite cheerfully for the next twenty minutes, single-handedly emptying two-thirds of the bottle while Alisa’s color returned. Alisa glanced at Nikki, comfortably sprawled in his chair, and smiled faintly. “You’re appearing less irate about this marriage.”

“Alisa, my sweet, I’m becoming more reconciled to the prospect by the moment.” The brandy and Alisa’s serenity had improved his humor.

They were interrupted just as Nikki was about to kick off his shoes, thinking, to hell with the guests. Alisa looked so radiantly lovely, perhaps they should start the honeymoon immediately. His irritations could seldom withstand the dual pressures of plentiful liquor and a languorous female within reach in bed.

Princess Kaisa-leena opened the door, and stepping half-way over the threshold, inquired solicitously, “Do you feel well enough to come down? The guests are impatient to toast the bride and groom.”

Nikki smothered a curse in deference to his mother and dropped his patent-leather-clad feet to the floor. He extended his hand to Alisa. “Shall we, my dear?” he inquired pleasantly.

Alisa and Nikki stood in the receiving line next to Prince Mikhail and Princess Kaisa-leena for over an hour,
greeting the guests to the accompaniment of the mechanical phrases necessary to the occasion—“
Enchantée
,” “So nice to meet you,” “Thank you so much.”

Several grand dukes of both generations attended, and after watching Alisa sink into a deep curtsey for a second grand duke, Nikki satirically murmured, “You won’t be able to curtsey that low much longer, my blooming young wife; your belly will get in the way.”

Alisa cast him a wrathful look of indignation, and Nikki smothered a chuckle as he turned to greet yet another distinguished guest. Several moments later Major Cernov paused before them and, taking Alisa’s hand in his, raised it to his lips. He held it for a moment longer than necessary while he murmured suggestively, “You’re more lovely each time I see you, Madame.”

“You honor me with the compliment, Monsieur,” Alisa replied flirtatiously, paying Nikki back for his mockery, while Nikki stood at her side, wondering what would happen if he smashed Cernov square in the mouth. He restrained the urge, for that would be a ripe piece of gossip indeed, the bridegroom fighting a rival at his wedding.

Abruptly Nikki turned to his parents and said, “We are done with these civilities. If anyone else wants to congratulate us, they can put it in writing. Come, my dear, you look fatigued.” Gripping Alisa’s elbow, he drew her to him, reestablishing possession, and whisked her away to a quiet alcove, where he snapped his fingers for a footman carrying a tray of champagne glasses.

“Put the tray down,” Nikki said, and motioned at the table beside the sofa. Quite oblivious of his responsibilities to his guests, Nikolai Kuzan proceeded to empty the contents of the glasses while he grimly clasped Alisa’s hand as she sat next to him on the green satin upholstery. He burned with jealousy at Cernov’s remark and swore aloud several times between draining glasses while he dwelt on
the gall of his old friend. Damn his impudence! Alisa enjoyed this indication of jealousy after having endured Nikki’s bland indifference for so many days.

With his usual disregard for the courtesies of society, just as the dinner guests were filing into the supper room for the magnificent array of dishes produced by the Kuzan chef, Nikki pulled Alisa to her feet and pushed her ahead of him through the throng of well-wishers and up the stairs to the nuptial bed.

Quite foxed by this time, Nikki couldn’t decide which bed to use for this momentous occasion—the termination of his bachelorhood and the beginning of his husbandly duties. Should he use the bed in his room or the one in Alisa’s? Solving the dilemma by deciding to take turns in both, he hastily disrobed himself, pulled off Alisa’s voluminous gown, and eased off her petticoats as she giggled from the several glasses of champagne he’d pressed on her.

Picking Alisa up, they collapsed on the bed, kissing and laughing. Then he kissed her long and carefully, fondling her ripe body until she trembled beneath him, threw her arms around his neck, and eased herself beneath his throbbing stiffness, entering into the spirited loveplay with abandon. They were always in amorous accord regardless of their other differences and it was no sense of husbandly duty or adherence to his father’s admonitions that kept Nikki near his wife all night.

The following morning, Prince Mikhail and Princess Kaisa-leena took their leave for Le Repose amid kisses and hugs, exclamations of fondness and kind good wishes, with the exception of Nikki and his father, who stiffly and formally bade good-bye to each other, the strain in their relationship painfully clear.

As his carriage passed through the dusty streets of the city, Prince Mikhail relaxed his stern, forbidding expression, reached over, clasped the small hand of his wife sitting
beside him, and said wearily, “I hope I’ve done right by that young woman. Have I been too harsh to insist on their marriage?”

“No, Misha, our son resists the fact that he loves her; he’ll come to accept it someday, and Alisa loves Nikki, of that I’m sure. It’s important for the coming child to have both a mother and a father. Don’t despair, all will be well,” she said quietly, and patted his large, strong hand. Silently she whispered a Tzigane charm for the happiness of the union, for she knew how unyielding, independent, and demanding Nikki could be. Like his father.

“I won’t interfere again,” the Prince sighed unhappily. “Perhaps if left alone, they’ll build a life together for our future grandchild.” Secretly he was not very hopeful, but at least the child would have a name, and the vast assets and resources of the Kuzan family as its patrimony. Money couldn’t buy happiness, but at least it offered luxury in one’s despair, the old prince reflected cynically.

Before many weeks had passed in the pink marble palace on the Millionnaya, Nikki began to fall into his old habits. At first he had grudgingly but dutifully run the rounds of parties, drums, balls, and picnics with Alisa, but always bored, indifferent, and obviously discontent as he either stood on the sidelines, drinking and watching Alisa, or else disappeared into the card room for hours. In less than a month he no longer made an attempt to hide the fact that he found these functions intolerable.

Aleksei had more and more taken his place as escort, and lately almost exclusively squired Alisa to the festivities she chose to attend. Aleksei adored Alisa with the dogged infatuation of youth and was ever ready and eager to indulge her whims. Alisa appreciated Aleksei’s youthful spirits and candor and thanked him with heartfelt sincerity for being a companion to her. His was a friendship she valued
all the more as Nikki’s interests drifted away to other pursuits.

Aleksei raged inwardly at the callous indifference and discourteous treatment Nikki gave his wife, but kept his indignant thoughts to himself. A verbal brawl with Nikki would accomplish nothing for Alisa’s happiness, and in the cool tenor of Nikki’s current mood, he didn’t want to risk being forbidden the freedom of the house and Alisa’s company. The young man fretted but held his tongue.

Soon Nikki began staying away from home nights, comfortably easing back into the habits of twenty years. Alisa sobbed in sorrow and rage the first time it happened. The pain Nikki saw in her face forced him to hurl back at her with a suppressed ferocity, “Damn you, stop whining! You knew what I was like when you married me! Did you not?” And then his voice dropped to a chilling murmur. “My whoring and drinking were well known to you, Madame, before you chose to become my mistress and then my wife. Surely it’s not a shock to your delicate sensibilities. Do not, at this late date, become full of nonsense about honorable and virtuous conduct. You were hardly a model of propriety yourself.”

“You need not insult me,” Alisa whispered unhappily.

“By God, a
femme facile
can be insulted now,” he said, wishing to hurt. “What next? Rockets to the moon, no doubt.”

“But”—his eyes narrowed dangerously—“do not consider flirtations, Madame, or that you have a freedom of—hmm—shall we say—outside friendships. I’ve warned you in that respect. No man touches my wife. Whatever children are born of this marriage will be Kuzan by parentage as well as by name. And I would appreciate, Madame, in the future, if you would have the goodness to refrain from concerning yourself in my affairs.”

Alisa cried in private at Nikki’s casual freedom, but if
she sometimes renewed that line of conversation, he simply walked away, so as the weeks progressed, she accepted his behavior because she had no other choice. But she wanted to scream, Go away! Go away! If you don’t care for me, go away! Why should she be forced to suffer his reluctant forbearance as life companion. But the growing child, now kicking in her womb, the need for some security in a thoroughly male-dominated world, required that she accept the grudgingly offered hand.

How can he be the same man? she thought with despair. Previously he was capable of great kindness, so gentle yet so passionate when she was his mistress. Now he was cool, indifferent, an unresponsive man who happened to live in the same residence. She was paying a high price for her child’s name. Once the seed is planted, a man can ignore, or circumvent, or disavow; paternity is an elusive state, but the receiver of his “gift” has no such option.

Alisa decided to make the best of this imperfect world. She would not retire from life, but chose instead to devote herself to Katelina and, in the future, to the new child as well. Her second child would have a name too. Her husband, though it wrenched her heart to conceive of it, could resume his former life—apparently he already had. But she wouldn’t humiliate herself and beg for crumbs of affection.

And yet, she often broke into an uncontrollable torrent of unhappy tears. Her mind couldn’t control her wounded heart.

Nikki never visited her bed anymore. She knew his need for women, and her heart was consumed with pain at the thought.

Nikki spent his evenings gambling at the clubs, silent, taciturn, grim, quick to anger, while his friends remarked that marriage must not be agreeing with Nikolai Kuzan. He’d even missed the annual war games at Tsarskoe late that summer, pleading an extended leave for reasons of
health. The easy masculine camaraderie of the officers would have been intolerable in his present humor.

He was drinking deep, and whispers warned to stay clear of Prince Kuzan; he was primed for trouble. When tired of brandy and gambling, Nikki could invariably be found in one of several Kirgiz night cafés on the islands, drinking black coffee with lemon essence and opium, sweetened with sherbet, or smoking hashish. Both drugs soothed his frustrations, mellowed his irritations, and assuaged his melancholy.

He would, with studied punctuality, arrive home before Katelina wakened and wait for her in the morning room, where she would run down to chatter with Nikki while eating her breakfast. Dressed in his evening clothes, he would wait by the dying fire, feeling no sense of urgency or anything beyond a detached, dreamy interest in seeing his favorite moppet.

Nikki was considerate of Katelina in every way, bringing her lavish quantities of toys and giving every attention to her dialogue. When it was time for Katelina’s lessons in the morning, Nikki would retire to his bedchamber and sleep the day away, rising in time to join Alisa and Katelina for dinner in the enormous formal dining room. Dressed once more for an evening out, he would gossip cheerfully with Katelina while talking with a polite civility to Alisa. Once Katelina was tucked in bed, he disappeared for the night without a word of explanation.

One evening at the dinner table, Alisa gathered her courage to ask Nikki if he would be available for a dancing party she was giving at the end of the week. He hesitated briefly, asked again what day it was to be held, and then said with his customary cool voice, “I’ll contrive to attend, Madame. Please remind my valet the morning of the occasion to wake me in time to dress.”

• • •

Alisa was dressed and waiting in the drawing room the night of the party when Nikki sauntered into the room at ten o’clock, carrying a glass of brandy, already his fourth since putting Katelina to bed. He was attired with his usual negligent elegance in a superbly fitted brown velvet suit that showed his magnificent body off to advantage. An enormous turquoise and diamond pin fastened his carelessly tied cravat and sparkled in the brilliantly lit room. Alisa couldn’t help herself as a press of confusing emotions smothered her. Nikki’s presence still took her breath away, and she was conscious of an unavoidable stirring of admiration.

Casting one desultory glance at the splendid exotic floral arrangements that graced the room, he walked across the polished parquet, stopped halfway into the room, and in a slow drawl remarked, “May I compliment you on your toilette, Madame? You are shown off to excellent advantage this evening.”

A warm glow blazed through Alisa at these first complimentary words she had heard from Nikki in weeks. Was he really proud of her good looks? In the fifth month of her pregnancy, Alisa was wearing a slightly Empire gown of emerald-green satin with ruching and ruffles of green velvet and embroidered Byzantine brocade decorating the flounces of green satin and outlining the décolletage. Her beautiful breasts now further enlarged by pregnancy were swelling magnificently above the green satin bodice. Nikki’s emeralds rested on the soft mounds of flesh while the enormous pendant hung suspended in her deep cleavage. A wreath of white violets and green velvet ribbon was woven into her fashionable upswept curls.

Alisa’s warm glow was short-lived as Nikki tartly said, “However, may I caution you not to bend over too far, or
you may fall out of your gown.” A slow anger rose in him at the sight of so much of Alisa’s flesh exposed to the public eye, but he restrained his waxing jealousy and tossed off his brandy instead. Walking over to a side table, he refilled his glass, then perched on the edge of the table, idly swinging one velvet-clad leg.