Seized by Love (6 page)

Nikki couldn’t have known that fear of her husband’s actions rather than Nikki’s had prompted her inordinate manifestation of fear. Valdemar Forseus had on two recent instances beaten Alisa, not grievously, but enough to
frighten her. After years of almost total indifference, since the birth of their daughter Forseus had once again begun, infrequently, to press her with bizarre and unwelcome demands. Alisa was dreadfully terrified, and more sure every day that soon she would have to take her daughter and leave her husband regardless of the consequences. The last few months had become so increasingly intolerable, she now wondered daily how much longer she could last.

Nikki restricted himself to polite and innocuous inanities for the next fifteen minutes, ultimately succeeding in restoring Alisa’s lively spirits and bringing the delightfully ingenuous smile to her lips. Feeling it best to depart now that her cheerful disposition was reestablished, Nikki rose from his relaxed sprawl and, towering magnificently above her, remarked equably, “Perhaps if you’re sketching here tomorrow, I could bring my catalogues to show you.”

“I don’t know. I can’t, I mean … I don’t think so,” she stammered falteringly.

“It doesn’t signify if you’re otherwise engaged,” he reassured her. “I’m rather at loose ends at the moment, and if you’re not here, the stroll over will, at least, be a pleasant occupation of my time.” He smiled faintly. “Charmed to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Forseus. Good day.”

“Good day to you, Monsieur,” she quietly replied.

And bowing courteously, he strode slowly away.

Alisa was left with multitudinous and conflicting emotions waging war in her mind, a sweet confusion holding sway. He was so handsome, faintly foreign- and exotic-looking. Alisa couldn’t drag her memory from the strikingly attractive maleness he exuded. Prince Kuzan was also enchanting company (of course, since Nikki was out to ingratiate himself), so kind to her and wholly conversant in the new art movements, a topic of infinite delight to one who could keep abreast of the new currents only by irregular periodicals that might find their way to Viipuri. Alisa
didn’t allow herself to dwell on his handsome attractiveness. In the six years since she had been forced into marriage with the sixty-one-year-old Forseus, no man had ever treated her gently. The entire encounter that afternoon was bewildering and left her unusually agitated. She couldn’t concentrate on her painting anymore. All thought of color and form had left her mind. She knew she wanted to meet Prince Kuzan tomorrow. But dared she follow her own warm feelings of pleasure he engendered within her this afternoon? If her husband had been home, she would have had no choice. But he wasn’t, and these few days of freedom from his tyranny had brought a Prince into her life.

Alisa gathered her supplies and walked home slowly, lost in tumultuous thought, hugging each enchanting memory of the Prince to herself. Arriving home, she devoted herself to her five-year-old daughter, Katelina, who had just awakened from her afternoon nap, and in entertaining her child endeavored to push aside the distracting, disturbing thoughts of Prince Kuzan.

When Nikki returned to the lodge, he was greeted with rapid-fire, coarse, and teasing questions from the importunately inquisitive, now slightly drunken Cernov and Illyich.

“Well, how is the bull of Petersburg doing with Forseus’s ice maiden?” Illyich laughed uproariously, more amused than ever at his choice of prey. He felt quite certain of collecting his winnings.

Cernov slyly added, “I see your clothes are as unruffled and immaculate as ever. Didn’t get to her this afternoon, eh, Nikki? Losing your touch?”

Nikki good-naturedly accepted the crude jesting interspersed with much helpful and extremely graphic advice.
He was eminently familiar with barracks humor and also entirely satisfied with the course of the afternoon’s efforts. He looked forward eagerly to a leisurely, unhurried seduction; the victory would be sweet.

“My friends,” Nikki explained with a patient forbearance, “Mrs. Forseus is not a common slut. She is, surprisingly, in spite of having married that peasant-merchant Forseus, of gentle birth and upbringing. She’s also a lovely, skitterish young filly unused to the bridle, so I must gentle her slowly before she’ll be tame enough to ride. Today was not entirely unsuccessful, so don’t count your winnings yet, Illyich.”

Nikki had been unprepared to find Alisa so well-bred. Her French was fluent and without accent. She wasn’t a peasant after all, although Nikki had no scruples or class distinctions when it came to taking his pleasure. His sexual diversions were international, interdenominational, non-ideological, entered into with a true and open spirit of brotherhood.

That evening Nikki remained aloof from the ordinary orgy of drinking, dancing, and whoring. With barely tolerant amusement and ultimately total indifference he watched the drunken antics of his friends. Finally, to the astonishment of the servants, for the first time in years he retired alone to bed at the relatively early hour of one o’clock. He was even sober. Now they were worried. Was the master ill?

For all his drunken wildness and eccentric behavior, Nikki had an old-fashioned regard for his responsibilities to his peasants and was, in turn, adored by them. He was generous to his servants, a quirk denoted by most as softness or eccentricity. He was genuinely interested in their problems, laughed and joked with them, would partake in their amusements, had learned to ride, hunt, and ski from his father’s Finnish Lukashee (trackers).
²
In fact, Nikki’s
ardor for hunting interfered considerably with his regimental duties, but his superiors favored him and intervened more than once to save him the consequences of over-staying his leave or being absent without consent.

Nikki, oblivious to the servants’ whispered solicitude for his health, slept deeply and peacefully throughout the night.

Alisa, for her part, was not so imperturbable. She tossed and turned, in long stretches of wakefulness restlessly wondering if she should meet Prince Kuzan the next day. Still distraught with indecision, she finally fell into an exhausted sleep at four in the morning.

Nikki had dispatched a trooper to Petersburg 100 versts away (66 miles) the evening before, with a message for Ivan, instructing him to gather all the current art catalogues from the library and send them back by return messenger. Ivan was also to ascertain the provenance of the landscape by Shishkin and have that delivered as well to the hunting lodge.

By mid-morning of the second day of the wager, the catalogues were in Nikki’s hands and a note from Ivan explained that the painting was being sent by carriage since its size made it impossible to be carried on horseback. Nikki selected four of the newest catalogues he felt would be of most interest to Mrs. Forseus.

Dressing leisurely, he left without waking his friends, who were still sleeping off their fuddled heads, although the day was well advanced beyond noon. He wore the buckskins and peasant shirt he preferred as country dress. Books tucked under his arm, Nikki strolled without haste to the small meadow on the opposite side of the shallow river. There he lay down in the warm sun, arms hooked behind his neck, and waited for Alisa. He’d deliberately
arrived very early in order to precede the woman to the assignation. Alisa’s quavering trepidation had been extremely evident yesterday, and Nikki was afraid she might quickly reconsider and bolt if he wasn’t there first to greet her.

Nikki entertained himself, as he waited, by mentally cataloguing the various and delightful attributes of the beautiful Mrs. Forseus. This pleasant exercise was eventually disturbed by the arrival of the subject of his musings.

The hunt was on once more. The luscious quarry was full in sight. She was even more delicious in the flesh, he noted, as Alisa walked toward him with a long, graceful stride, her slender hips swaying beneath the sheer dimity of her apple-green dress. Nikki closed his eyes briefly and controlled his rising passion. To have that fair creation of womanhood alone in the forest and refrain from making love to her was going to require superhuman discipline.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Forseus.” Nikki greeted her courteously, rising politely from the ground and sweeping her a formal bow. He could see her hesitancy and uncertainty, and hoped by remaining coolly formal to allay any misgivings she might have about having come here to meet him. One more day and they would be experiencing the ultimate familiarity, he thought, so he was willing to bide his time today. He didn’t want her to flee in panic, sorry that she’d come. That wasn’t out of the question, he realized as she stood trembling before him, holding tightly to her basket of art supplies. Her demeanor reminded him of a very young girl, an unsure adolescent on the threshold of first love.

“Good afternoon, Prince Kuzan,” Alisa softly replied in greeting.

“Come, Mrs. Forseus, please call me Nikolai, and may I address you by your Christian name? All this rigid etiquette seems out of place in the natural arena. I brought the catalogues,”
he quickly added when he noted the alarm with which she viewed him.

The lure of her favorite topic was enough to overcome her apprehensions, and the lovely young woman visibly relaxed as Nikki held the booklets out to her.

“My name is Alisa,” she said demurely without lifting her eyes to Nikki’s face. She held out her hand for the books, touching them as if they were a precious metal. Then she gracefully seated herself on the ground a safe, respectable distance away.

Nikki didn’t make any sudden moves because Alisa exhibited the unmistakable nervousness of a frightened doe. Soon, however, her natural vivacity surfaced as she oohed and aahed over the colored lithographs in the catalogues. Nikki contentedly watched her and ventured a comment or two on some of the artists or explained occasionally just how a certain painting appeared in its large format. He talked to her of his meetings with Kramskoy, Repin, Shishkin, and Savrassov, and Alisa’s interest was itself intoxicating; her eyes shone in wonder, her cheeks flushed with fervor. After hearing Nikki had actually been in their company, she was full of eager questions and didn’t notice or appear unduly alarmed when he moved closer to point out some special quality or detail in one or two of the catalogue plates.

The afternoon passed thus pleasantly in this discourse on art; she animated, high-spirited, inquiring, he politely courteous and ever restrained while answering her myriad questions.

Apparently by accident, since the maneuver was performed with such discretion, Nikki would occasionally touch Alisa’s hand while pointing out a particular object of interest in an illustration, or brush her arm as he leaned across to turn a page; these stratagems were carried off with an unqualified innocence for all their contrived planning.

Alisa vividly responded to Nikki’s casual touch; a rosy blush, a start, down-cast eyes. He was pleased to see that she was aware of his presence, and it wasn’t coquetry, he decided; she was indeed virtuous. But hers was a virtue that was assailable, it appeared from her agitated reaction to the unexpected contact. If Alisa was susceptible to slight brushes of his fingers, it presaged well for her response to his more ardent and practiced caresses. This was no ice maiden after all.

Alisa herself was overwhelmed by her strange feelings. She’d lain awake the greater part of the night and hadn’t been able to stay away today, although she’d consciously made the attempt. These tremulous sensations within her were new and unfamiliar. The warm flush running through her body was terrifying in its pleasure, a driving physical longing astonishing in its intensity. Surely she must leave. This would never do! She
must
leave! But she couldn’t.

It was Nikki who decided he would either have to leave now or he’d be recklessly and perhaps disastrously seducing a still-uncertain (bewildered, wavering, but still uncertain) woman. With a tremendous effort of will, Nikki suggested that Alisa should be departing for home since the air was beginning to cool as the sun dropped toward the horizon.

“Yes, of course.” Alisa jumped up breathlessly, eagerly grasping the opportunity to escape from an encounter that left her filled with flurries and pulsations, while at the same time, and quite improperly, she chided herself, curiously reluctant to leave. “You’re kind to notice. Thank you so much for showing me your catalogues. I haven’t had such an interesting conversation in years,” she said, and dazzled him with an ingenuous smile.

Nikki rose, and standing quite close to her, was warmed by the unpretentious sincerity of that smile.

“If I might suggest, Alisa,” he said, skillfully choosing his words, not wishing to disturb the delicate balance of her
desires against the obvious perils she envisioned, “if you’d care to stroll in this direction tomorrow afternoon, I could have one of my servants carry over the Shishkin landscape for you to see, since you feel you cannot take tea at my lodge.”

Alisa hesitated only briefly. She eagerly wanted to see the painting, and she also wanted to see Prince Kuzan, and he did say his servant would be present. Nikki’s reference to the servant gave Alisa, already susceptible, the needed sop of respectability to arrest her qualms.

“I’d like that immensely. Until tomorrow.” Alisa waved gaily and ran off through the delicate birches.

Thank heaven, her husband was in Helsinki on business, Alisa gratefully thought. He normally kept a very careful watch on her activities, but his son, who was supposed to take over the vigil in his father’s absence, was rather less concerned than the jealous Mr. Forseus. And Alisa
was
given considerably more freedom
within
the estate. The acres were so extensive and isolated that Valdemar Forseus felt his prize possession relatively safe from strange eyes.

The following morning dawned overcast and drizzly.

Alisa was strangely upset upon awakening to find her maid pulling back the heavy curtains on a gray, cloudy day. She wanted to see Prince Kuzan again, but she didn’t know why, and the weather might not permit her to go out. She sat by her window most of the morning, reading to her daughter and trying not to think of his disquieting effect on her.