Seized by Love (14 page)

Just as well, he reflected.
Countess Amalienborg had been an enduring mistress over almost two years now,
not-withstanding Nikki's occasional short flings with an actress or Gypsy.
However, he'd become faintly tired of Sophie's proprietary airs in public
lately. Tonight would be an ideal opportunity to courteously break off their
longstanding friendship. A skilled lover, Sophie had served well in the past as
a palliative to his boredom when he craved extraordinary acrobatics in bed. She
was always successful in bringing his blood up, although he thought her the
lowest kind of bitch, for she'd do anything to oblige him. But then there were
other times when he didn't care if he lived or died, and on those occasions he
surpassed even Sophie's audacity in bed.

But lately even her
practiced accomplishments were palling. A bank draft or jewels? Which would she
prefer as a parting token? Out of innate laziness and indifference he decided
on the money, called Ivan in, and was assured the bank draft would be on his
dressing table before dinner that evening.

"Thank you, Ivan,
you're ever efficient."

Deferentially, Ivan
inquired of his well-disposed employer so obviously in buoyant spirits this
morning, "Did you enjoy the art catalogues you requested?"

"Immensely, Ivan,
immensely! You don't know what pleasure they brought me." Nikki chuckled.

Puzzled, but cheered at his
master's new interest in art, Ivan bowed himself out of the breakfast room.

Could one wonder at the
cause of Prince Kuzan's enormous good humor? He'd had his way after all. The
object of his amorous interest, but recently outside his grasp, was now
ensconced in a splendid gilt bed mere feet from his suite next door, and in
addition, supremely grateful for his efforts on her behalf. So very convenient.

Nikki positively glided
through the onerous, petty details of regimental paperwork necessary to his
position that fine early spring morning. Within the hour he'd dispatched these
trivia and had returned home only to find that Alisa was dozing once more. Not
an impatient man, under the circumstances (he had all the time in the world)
Nikki let Alisa sleep quite peacefully most of the day.

Sending a note in the late
afternoon, he inquired if she had any preferences for dinner and informed her
he would await her company in the drawing room at seven.

Nikki, elegantly attired in
black evening dress and white satin waistcoat, relaxed before the open window
on a large tapestry settee, one foot in its patent evening pump resting on the
windowsill, and slowly sipped a fine Madeira. Seeing him sitting there, all
well-bred grace, one lost sight of the brute power beneath the silken raiment
unless one paused to note the width of the shoulder or the thickness of wrist,
unless one marked the thigh muscles flexing on the leg so casually at ease on
the sill.

He turned his head at the
sound of the door and automatically came to his feet, advanced across the
enormous parquet floor with his customary poise, and gave Alisa an elegant bow.

"My lady," he
said very formally while smiling down at her in a most distracting fashion from
under those heavy brows, "please join me in a Madeira before we dine. The
weather is quite exceptional and I've been enjoying the prospect of the Neva
across the quay."

Alisa was dressed in her
only ensemble.

"I'm afraid I'm not
adequately dressed for dinner," she stammered slightly, overawed by the
magnificent rococo room resplendent with gilt, putti, stuccoed reliefs, and
real Bouchers and Fragonards. Awed as well by Nikki's casual grace and the
distinct overt difference between the unsophisticated, natural man she'd known
in the country and this supremely degage courtier so at ease in this enormous
palace, wearing his luxurious attire carelessly, as though being point-de-vice
was as comfortable as old slippers. She felt like the proverbial country mouse.

"You're ever the
epitome of beauty, my dear," Nikki amiably replied in a smooth drawl. He
could sense she was embarrassed at her lack of elegant dress, was himself so
used to dressing for dinner, he hadn't considered the awkwardness it might
cause Alisa. He observed to himself that he would put her wardrobe to rights
immediately, and then attempted to placate her embarrassment by apologizing.
"Forgive me for dressing so conspicuously, but I've an engagement after
dinner I must attend, hence this attire." Alisa was surprised to feel a
strange and uncomfortable jealousy at his remark.

"Come sit by me and
we'll enjoy the saffron sunset. You look the picture of health once
again."

Maria had bathed Alisa and
washed her magnificent hair; the vibrant recuperative powers of youth had
quickly restored her peaches-and-cream complexion, and she did indeed look
refreshingly glowing.

"Thank you, I feel
very well."

Nikki chatted casually,
never referring to anything personal, putting Alisa completely at ease, teasing
and entertaining her with the trivial, innocuous gossip about town. Zacouska
preceded the dinner and Nikki directed Alisa to a small anteroom, where a table
was spread with caviar, cheese, rusks, sardines, oysters, olives, liqueurs, and
vodka.

"I understand zacouska
is becoming quite comme il faut in France this year. We Russians have known for
centuries that several glasses of liquor much improve that
mauvcds quart
d'heure
that generally precedes European dinners. Do try one small glass
of chilled vodka, my dear." Without waiting for an answer he proceeded to
pour them both one.

"To your regained
health." Nikki raised his glass in salute.

The dinner was superb;
Nikki's French chef surpassed himself for his young master who so rarely dined
in. Perhaps the new house guest would change the Prince's normal pattern, the
chef reflected with a Gallic lift of his eyebrows. He would be able to serve
his delectable coq au vin, his exquisite creme bachique, his savory potage a la
crevette.
Ah! Vive
la femme!
He could display
his skills again. Bah! He had become tired of only serving breakfasts at two in
the afternoon.

Nikki came home quite late
from Countess Amalien-borg's card party, his brows drawn together in a lowering
scowl. An evening's entertainment of charades and a bellowing Italian soprano
had preceded the cards. By God! Sophie's amusements were banal. Needless to
say, it had been quite late before he was able to affect a private conversation
with Sophie. The amiable parting Nikki had envisioned had not been all that
amiable. When he'd politely offered his adieus and his handsome bank draft, the
Countess had bitterly and impertinently bearded him about his new mistress.

"Installed in the room
next to yours, Nikki, I hear, and drugged when she was brought in," the
Countess had said maliciously. "Losing your touch, dear? Surely between
your smooth tongue and big cock, you don't have to resort to force?"

"Don't be coarse,
cherie,"
Nikki said flatly. Damn gossiping doctor, Nikki thought irritably, the news
must be all over town by now. Normally immune to gossip concerning himself, he
preferred not having Alisa's name bandied about.

"When I lose my touch,
Sophie dear, I'll let you know," Nikki murmured coldly. "Perhaps your
husband and I will then be able to share a mutual interest in cards. Whist is
all he's good for at present. I still endeavor to amuse myself in more active
ways."

"With your 'active'
ways," she sneered, "next thing you know, your little mistress will
be handing you another brat."

"Perhaps," he
replied.

"Perhaps? Is that all
you can say? You, who are near to setting some kind of record for
bastards?"

"These things are
rather inevitable," Nikki continued, exasperated with Sophie's spite.
"Not every woman is in such an enviable position as you, dear, who can bed
without restraint and never experience a qualm, thanks to your barren
womb."

"No doubt your newest
trollop is not so disposed and will soon present you with the unwelcome news of
impending fatherhood yet again!" Sophie taunted.

"Whether that comes to
pass or no, I fail to see how my affairs are any concern of yours," Nikki
drawled, trying to keep his anger in check.

Seeing she had pushed the
quick-tempered Prince too far, and averse to losing such an accomplished bed
partner, the worldly-wise Sophie sensibly changed her tack.

"Stay the night,
Nikki," she breathed softly, "I haven't seen you in weeks."

Glancing at his gold and
champleve enamel wristwatch, he absently toyed with the unusual alarm mechanism
that upon release reminded its wearer of the hour by tapping the wrist.

"Not tonight,
Sophie," he said politely.

"I don't suppose you'd
say no if your newest bed warmer asked you," Sophie snapped, her brief
attempt at cajolery vanishing.

The Prince raised his eyes
from his timepiece and there was a glint in his eye. "That, my dear, is
quite another matter."

"Rude, odious
wretch!" the Countess spat out.

He only laughed. "As
you very well know from past experience, Sophie, my pet." Bowing
infinitesimally from the waist, he left the scented boudoir.

The irritating Countess had
taken some of the edge from his good spirits. Arriving home, Nikki waved off
the solicitous butler, let himself into his study, and relaxed over several
brandies, allowing the annoyance of Sophie's impertinence to wash away. An hour
later Nikki was comfortably soothed. The presence of Alisa in his own home was
a powerful distraction. There might be problems with his malicious ex-mistress,
he thought. But to hell with the problems; all he could think of was the woman
upstairs; the problems could wait.

He rose from the chair near
the window and slowly walked up the wide marble staircase. A small gaslamp was
burning low near Alisa's bed. Nikki stood a long time and watched her
peacefully sleeping; she was so fragile, her breasts rising and falling gently
beneath her silk negligee, her long lashes resting on her soft white cheeks,
one arm thrown above her head, her red-gold hair like liquid copper in the
mellow light, in casual disarray on the satin pillowcase. Unbuttoning the
silver buttons of his evening jacket, Nikki dropped it on the floor at his
feet. He removed his clothes slowly, devouring her with his gaze. When he
deliberately dropped his black patent shoe on the floor, her eyes opened
instantly.

She saw him in the soft
glow cast by the lamp, and for a second glimpsed the brief bewilderment of his
emotions. The look was gone in a flash and the bed dipped as his weight came
down on it. His head lowered and his parted lips moved over hers gently,
forcing her mouth open, slowly, languorously, teasing her senses as his hands
ran over her body and lifted her gown.

He could feel her beginning
to respond to him. Slowly he undid the ribbons of her silk gown and pulled it
from her shoulders. He touched the hem and raised it past her softest place.
Finally, her arms pulled him to her and he knew the long days of his enforced
celibacy were over.

He took her time after time
that night, wanting her to need him, wanting her to cry out for him, reassuring
himself that she really was his, that he had her in his bed, in his house, at
his demand. Perplexing emotions raced through his subconscious but he felt most
the need for reaffirmation of his dominant role in their relationship, a role
most gratifying when she was pleading for him to grant her release in exquisite
pleasure. Alisa loved him that night hopelessly, incoherently, as again and
again he wakened her body to bewitching sensation. Each touch made her feel her
body for the first time, as if in a rebirth. And finally sated, they fell
asleep coiled around each other, arms and legs entwined, the warmth of her
breath on his chest, the powerful beat of his heart beneath her ear.