Love Storm (15 page)

"For how long?" Nikki interjected caustically.

At this juncture Alex could have repudiated the error of their assumptions about Zena, but the incorrigible Kuzan stubborn irascibility was part of his character as well, and his father's goading perversely affected it. Flushing under the rebuke, Alex peevishly said, "Since when have you begun monitoring my liaisons?"

"Since we've heard news of this street woman, you young cub," Nikki retorted heatedly.

"Forgive me, sir, if I wonder at your duplicity," Alex drawled sarcastically, and one black eyebrow rose in incredulity as derisive as his father's scorn. "Not wishing to seem indelicate before
Maman"
he continued languidly, "but you're hardly one to chastise such conduct."

"Watch your tongue, my boy. I'm still capable of thrashing you," Nikki barked. "And, as you well know, my amorous escapades ended when I met your
maman."

"Very laudable," commended his unrepentant son. "However, I'm not married yet, so my amorous escapades should be of no concern to anyone," Alex challenged.

"Your
maman
is worried," Nikki responded stiffly.

Alex glanced swiftly at the beseeching eyes of his beautiful mother, and the brittle anger drained from his eyes.

Before Alex could reply, Nikki glanced reflectively at his eldest son, his distaste only thinly disguised. "And I'm worried about your bringing a common street slut into our family. I had no longer thought it possible for any of your profligacies to astonish me, but let me congratulate you," Nikki's nettled voice informed. "I have been persuaded to change my opinion. You have eclipsed all previous excesses. This unsavory female has outlasted your usual liaisons. A fortnight was your previous record, if I'm not mistaken," he murmured acidly. "I think we are now approaching the seventh week, if my calculations are correct," the chill tone continued. "I confess, Alexander (only in moments of the most severe censure did "Alexander" replace the familiar "Sasha"), I do not care for the thought of a common prostitute as a member of the family. You can hardly suppose I relish hearing a streetwalker's name seriously coupled with yours."

The red light reappeared in Alex's eyes. "Such parental vigilance unnerves me. Seven weeks, you say," Alex insolently mused. "Very edifying. I hadn't been keeping count," he smiled grimly. "Rest assured, there's no need to concern yourself. Gossip may be rife apropos my affairs, but not, I think, regarding my imminent nuptials."

"I should hope not," Nikki drawled, distinctly comforted to find his major worry was baseless.

"I am not inspired to marry, sir," came the careless reply.

"I stand relieved," Nikki politely said. "It's never been my custom," he continued smoothly, favoring his son with a cool smile, "to inquire into your outrageous affairs, despite your mother's occasional protests. I've always allowed you to indulge in almost any intemperance, but on one point I stand firm. You will not be allowed to commit that one indiscretion. You are, after all, a Kuzan. Amuse yourself, with my blessing, so long as it's only an amusement."

A provocative light gleamed in Alex's pale eyes. He shot his father a roguish glance. "I have your blessing, then?" he queried cheerfully.

By all means, enjoy yourself," Nikki was so far mollified as to inquire indulgently, "Do you need any money?"

"No, thank you, sir. I have plenty."

"I'm sure you're the first Kuzan to admit to such prudence. Alisa, my dear," said Nikki with a twinkle in his eye, "can we take credit for raising such a paragon of monetary circumspection?" He turned fond parental eyes on Alex and interrogated sportively, "Is there one vice, after all, that has eluded you?"

"At the risk of incurring your censure once again, Papa," Sasha grinned, "it's not a matter of abstaining from extravagance so much as it is the rather heavy winning at the gaming tables that supports my spendthrift tendencies."

"Can't fault your skill with cards," Nikki generously conceded, his humor once more charitably disposed toward his firstborn. Finishing his glass of brandy Nikki announced convivially, "I'm off. Promised Cernov a few hours of baccarat today. I'll be home in time to dine with you and the children, dear." He always disliked the punitive role as parent and was pleased the controversy had been resolved in a way exactly suited to the interests of them both. He left.

Patting the brocade cushion next to her, Alisa gently said, "Sit with me a moment, dear, and finish your drink."

As Alex sprawled next to his mother and leaned his head back she remarked quietly, "Tell me now, just who is this young woman?"

Alex sighed resignedly.
"Maman,
don't worry. It's nothing, just another woman."

"Are you sure, dear? I don't want to pry, but she's been at the
dacha
a long time."

"Rest easy,
Maman,
I can handle my own affairs."

"Your father was very worried. You're sure you're not serious about this female?"

Alex's eyebrows quirked sardonically. "Serious?" he said, then stood up and placed his empty glass on the table. "I'm not serious about anything," he laughed, "I'm only twenty-four.
Au revoir, Maman."
He bent to kiss her goodbye.

After the interview that had concluded so reassuringly for all parties, Alex strolled down the avenue to Alexandre's with a light step and an exuberant spirit. He was in the grandest mood; the ordeal with his parents had been pleasantly consummated with his father's benediction on his amusements. Evidently no vengeful relatives had surfaced to accuse him of trifling with Zena. His mother had been soothed, and the most delectable bedwarmer awaited him at home.

Entering the ornate plate-glass doors to buy Zena the promised bauble, Alex was disposed to purchase every imaginable luxury for his pert and saucy plaything. As long as she was amusing him so masterfully, it would be miserly of him to not return the favor. At Alexandre's no price tags could be seen, but one could feast one's eyes on displays of malachite, jade, ivory, tooled leather, umbrellas, walking sticks, purses, scarves, silver, jewelry, and china. Young Prince Alex walked the aisles swiftly, pointing and nodding affirmatively. When he left the exclusive establishment twenty minutes later, a laden shop clerk followed him to his sleigh carrying numerous boxes. From Alexandre's he walked to Druce's, the famous
magasin
anglais
where they sold Harris tweeds, English soap, gloves, and hose. More packages were added to those in the troika. Beyond was Cabassue's, small and select, where Alex purchased two dozen pairs of French gloves for Zena. Fragrance poured from the doors of
Brocard 's,
and now the
mademoiselle
had enough French scent to last a lifetime. And last he entered the jeweled splendor of
Fabergé.
When he left a short time later, the prince carried several white holly wood boxes lined in white velvet, the hallmark of
a Fabergé
purchase.

Carelessly tossing the boxes into the sleigh, Alex jumped in, dropped into the soft upholstered velvet, and said in the most jovial good humor, "Don't spare the horses, Ivan, I long for the comforts of the
dacha."

Alex dozed on the way back as the early winter twilight fell across the peaceful woodlands of dark pines and starkly white birch. The windows glowed warmly golden as two hours later the sweat-streaked horses pulled up to the
dacha
entrance. Alex directed the servants to carry the packages into the study.

As Alex walked into the foyer, a small body hurtled toward him and wrapped chubby arms around his legs.

"Papa! Papa! Where been? Where
been?"
Bobby screamed. Sweeping the excited child up into his arms, Alex grinned cheerfully and said, "I went to buy you some toys."

"Toys? See! See! Bobby see!" the young boy squealed. Zena stood back in the shadows of the stairway, irrepressi-bly happy to have Alex back. The day had been endless without him. Against her will, against all her plans, rhis careless rake had won her heart. She missed him terribly. He had only to enter a room and her spirits soared dizzily.

Scanning the entrance hall with a searching glance, Alex spied Zena and, moving toward the study, encompassed her within the circle of his free arm and bent to bid her hello with a kiss.

Her world was complete once again. Alex was back.

"Come see Bobby's toys and the trinkets I brought you. Missed you,
ma petite"
he said as he squeezed her gently.

The packages were spilled on the leather couch and on the carpet near the fireplace. Alex deposited Bobby on the rug and laid a package at his feet. Little hands ripped and tore the paper while Alex helped with the ribbon. A miniature golden train emerged from the silver tissue, and Zena's eyes opened in disbelief.

"Sasha!" she expostulated in wonder. "It's gold! My Lord, it's gold!"

"Don't worry, love, it still works," he indulgently affirmed, a small smile playing across his face. "See, here's the track; you wind the train with this key. Can you turn this key, Bobby?" he kindly asked. "Look, I'll show you how."

The track was quickly assembled, and soon the little solid gold train was gliding around the track, glistening in the flickering firelight. Some of Bobby's other toys were soon strewn in disarray on the floor while the young boy concentrated on the silver reproduction of a Volga paddle steamer by Henrik Wigstrom and a circus set with animals, acrobats, and clowns sculpted in enamel, gold, and semi-precious stones. A large pan of water had been carried in so that the paddle steamer could function, and the toddler was now very seriously teaching the circus performers and animals to swim. He subscribed to the "sink or swim" method of instruction.

Zena was awestruck by the extravagance.

"Here are a few things for you, too, child. I hope you like them," said Alex as he tossed several small wooden boxes in Zena's lap. With undiluted pleasure he watched her eyes sparkle in astonishment at the magnificent array of jewelry that spilled out of the velvet-lined boxes: a three-strand necklace of enormous pearls; a diamond brooch in the form of a Catherine's wheel; emerald earclips with glittering diamond teardrops; a ruby pendant worth an emir's ransom; and the
pièce de résistance,
an Art
Nouveau
necklace composed of sinewy golden links embellished with sapphires and emeralds that supported an elegant dragonfly fashioned from an enormous baroque pearl, its wings crafted from translucent mother-of-pearl and sapphires, the eyes gleaming emeralds, the whole poised between infinitely delicate water droplets fashioned from hundreds of diamonds.

"Do you like them?" Alex asked tranquilly.

"Do I
like
them!" Zena breathed in a whisper, tears streaming down her face as she sat near the fire, her lap filled with sparkling jewels. "Of course, I
love
them!" she said. "But Sasha, I couldn't accept them. They're much too expensive," she softly cried.

"Nonsense!" Alex uttered flatly. "Absolute nonsense. I'm tolerably rich (which avowal took honors as the understatement of the century). I assure you, my man of business won't raise an eyebrow at the bill. Now, enough said. You'll keep them or I'll hold my breath until I turn blue," he teased, and a smile lit his dark, handsome face.

Zena couldn't help but laugh at his ridiculous threat, which was exactly what he wanted her to do. Tears always made him uncomfortable.

"If you want to please the hell out of me," he said as he leaned over to gently brush away the tears under her eyes, "you might consider wearing the dragonfly necklace when you dress for dinner tomorrow. Tonight we're going to
pique-nique
here in front of the fire and listen to the unrestrained squeals of that brat of a brother you have, who seems to be gleefully set on drowning each of his toys." His smile belied the gruff words, and the evening progressed precisely as he wished. No more talk of "can" or "can't accept your gifts," no more tears, and much later, no more chatter as a sleepy Bobby was bundled off to bed by Mariana. The evening ended on the pleasantly sensual note envisioned by the young prince. The delicate, voluptuous beauty in his arms cried softly that night in sated release as she warmed him again and again.

At ten-thirty the following morning, just as Zena, Bobby, and Alex were finishing breakfast in the sunny east parlor, voices were heard in the entrance hall.

Very soon Yuri appeared in the doorway, flushed and emanating healthy fresh air.

One winged eyebrow rose slightly as Alex drawled with friendly sarcasm, "Don't waste any time, do you, Yuri?"