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.
Nikki, too, woke to strong feelings. “Merde,” he swore. A seduction in the rain would be troublesome even if she did come out in spite of the wetness. And this was his third and last day to win the wager.
Why was he so eager to make love to Mrs. Forseus? Nikki pondered. He who’d just recently decried the monotony of women. It wasn’t the money from the wager; he hardly needed it, and to win or lose the bet didn’t signify; on the rare occasions when Nikki lost, he lost as graciously as he won. But he was feeling some strange and remarkable attraction to the chit, an attraction removed from his usual lust. Alisa was virtuous, he reflected; a previously unassailable virtue about to be conquered. That was what was giving him such delicious pleasure.
At noon the sun came out in blazing glory.
Nikki called for his valet de chambre, Yukko, and had him fetch the painting. The luncheon basket he had ordered was sent for, and the two men set off toward the rendezvous. Yukko, a friend as well as a servant, having been Nikki’s companion since childhood, was better company than nine-tenths of his betters. And the best knife-thrower he’d ever seen. Nikki good-naturedly accepted the teasing directed toward him.
“Don’t worry, Yukko. I’ll be careful. Just do as I ask. After Mrs. Forseus has had an opportunity to satisfactorily inspect the painting, I’ll give you a discreet nod and you take the painting back to the lodge and leave us alone. Urho informed me yesterday when he was saddling my horse that the old merchant is in Helsinki and isn’t expected back for two weeks; Urho’s sister is a parlor maid at Forseus’s. So you see, I anticipate no angry husbands,” Nikki said as he grinned into Yukko’s widely smiling face.
“In that cas
e, I won’t have to stand guard with my pukko to stave off intruders.”
“No, Yukko, no need this time. Just go back to the lodge when I nod and try a bottle of my new brandy. Ask Aleksei to find you one; he knows where it is.”
Intentionally arriving early once again, Nikki watched as Yukko propped the large canvas against some birch trees, then both men sprawled in the grass, waiting for Mrs. Forseus.
She appeared shortly, slightly breathless, having run the last quarter verst, fearing she might be too late. In an effort to dissuade herself from meeting Nikolai, she’d postponed her departure until long after Katelina was asleep, and then impetuously decided to go regardless of her fears.
Yukko’s presence was reassuring, and the three sat on the grass, admiring the delicate depiction of a birch grove, like the one surrounding them. Shishkin’s skill at capturing the atmosphere of early morning, his rendering of lacy ferns, the dawn stillness so powerfully evoked on the canvas, were very impressive. Alisa exclaimed in delight, Nikki was courteously agreeable, and Yukko, after a summary glance at the landscape, ignored the painting and chose instead to observe the protagonists in this elaborate courtship dance.
After a reasonable interval, Yukko discreetly rose and left with the painting. Immediately stepping into the breach with the military precision of a trained field officer (to hesitate is to be lost), Nikki smiled warmly and said, “Could I interest you in some of my chef’s concoctions for a déjeuner sur l’herbe?” handing Alisa the hamper as he lifted the lid. Any woman would be awed by the sumptuous display arranged in the large basket.
Nikki spread out a damask cloth, crystal, silver, and china while Alisa enthusiastically marveled over the exquisite cold collation; a spiced Cornish hen stuffed with truffles and herbs, pickled artichoke hearts, asparagus vinaigrette, smoked salmon and caviar twirled into delicate pink lily shapes, pâté fluted into a petal-shaped mold, fresh strawberries sprinkled with sugar in a scalloped silver bowl, and pale, golden madeleines artfully arranged in a silver latticework basket. While Alisa set the food before them, Nikki poured champagne into two fine-stemmed goblets.
He handed a glass to Alisa, remarking lightly, “Shall we first drink a toast to the Emperor, since we’re drinking his favorite brand of champagne—Clicquot?”3
Alisa nodded, wide-eyed.
“To the Emperor,” Nikki toasted, and drained his glass.
“To the Emperor,” Alisa repeated with a timid smile, and took a sip of her champagne.
Le picque-nicque proceeded gaily, Nikki exerting his considerable charm, with the help of the food, champagne, and improving weather, easily enchanting Alisa, reminding her of all the attractions of the luxurious, entertaining life she’d been removed from for six years.
They chatted cheerfully, laughed at trivialities; he talked to her lightly, fascinating her, hypnotizing her. She listened and responded, heedless of this breach against propriety. She’d been a virtual prisoner of an old and depraved husband for six years, and she was still very young.
And now the joy she’d not allowed herself to hope for came back to her. Alisa delighted in Nikki without reservation, in his burning eyes that held hers, in the caressing compliments he offered her, for the blithe, joyous world he exemplified and that was lost to her forever.
The silly banter stopped abruptly.
A tremulous silence hung between them. Nikki was seated very close to Alisa. He caught her frightened glance and held it.
“No, no,” she whispered in fright and began to get up. Ignoring her words, he reached out, caught her shoulders, and pulled her toward him. He knew she would now either freeze in his arms or respond to him. She half opened her mouth and bent her head back; her breath came unevenly, her body trembled under the pressure of his hands. As he kissed her lips tenderly, her arms lifted around his shoulders, her fingertips brushed the soft hair on his neck, lightly, tentatively; she was quivering like a frightened animal.
Almost immediately the enormity of her acquiescence washed over her, and she attempted to break away.
“Loose me,” she whispered pleadingly. “Loose me, please,” she cried softly, struggling against his chest, unable to still the wakening desires in her own body.
“No,” he murmured thickly, kissing her. His hand slipped under her knees and he lifted her into his arms. Ignoring her timid protests, he carried her under the trees and there on the soft green moss laid her down and began deftly undressing her, all the while murmuring endearments, kissing her lips, stilling her fears with soft caresses, seducing with exquisite gentleness until she closed her eyes and lay still.
Skillful in the intricacies of hooks, buttons, and laces, he opened her dress and, pushing it off her shoulders, untied the straps of her chemise and kissed her shoulders, tasting the rich perfume of her scent. The smell of a woman always roused him; he loved the fresh sweetness. He was wild with desire yet restrained himself, for she was trembling beneath his touch. After removing her voluminous petticoats, pulling off her dainty kid slippers, garters, and silk stockings, he opened the tapes of her lace-trimmed drawers. Slipping them down her slender hips and well-shaped legs, he pulled them free and tossed them aside. A flood of crimson swept over Alisa’s face as she lay gleaming white before him while his devouring gaze ranged the length of her splendid, opulent beauty.
Nikki bent and kissed her softly, opening her mouth under the pressure of his lips. Then he gently stroked and caressed her, his fingers sliding over her bare thighs toward the very source of pleasure, and with gentle fingers he gained the opening and toyed delightfully with her until she quivered and shuddered beneath his touch. He could feel her quickening under his titillation. Her flesh was delicious to the touch, smooth and soft and warm. Alisa drew a long breath and opened her eyes. Seeing that she didn’t intend to resist him, Nikki kissed her more demandingly. And she turned her face fully toward him and of her own accord returned his kiss, opened her soft lips to the pressure of his probing tongue and fierce burning kisses.
She sighed a delicious small sound of surrender and he smiled against her mouth, gratified.
Quickly stripping off his clothes, he lay beside her, gathering her warm body in his arms. A shiver ran through Alisa at the contact with his naked skin. Her hands moved down his shoulders, closed around his back, as though she would press herself into him forever.
The tender caresses, his long, lean, manipulating fingers, the lingering kisses, the sweet murmured endearments, had all served their purpose. Nikki gently lifted her legs, without resistance mounted her, and with a few merciless thrusts buried himself inside her incredible warmth. Alisa cried out softly. He was momentarily shocked as he penetrated her, for although obviously aroused, she was tight as a virgin. She would take some patient, gentle stretching for the vigorous lovemaking he was used to, he reflected. Could all the ribald jests and rumors be true? Was her husband, indeed, too old?
“I’m sorry,” Nikki whispered into her tangled hair. “Did I hurt you?” Her eyelids fluttering, her lips parted in breathless desire, Alisa murmured, “No” as she clung to him, her arms laced around his powerful body, her legs twined around his.
Enveloped in her warm, throbbing flesh, he carefully, gently, explored its luscious interior as she stirred restlessly beneath him, the pressure of her hands holding him fiercely tight. With a slow, delicate rhythm he moved in her, adeptly controlling his passion, slowing his exertions to savor the tide of pleasure, intent on further rousing Alisa’s senses, deliberately compelling her to need him, compelling her to respond to the exquisite sensual pleasure he was intensifying with each deep, plunging stroke. He was in no hurry now, wisely delaying the climax, enjoying each wave of delight, penetrating and withdrawing with tantalizing slowness.
Soon the last vestiges of Alisa’s guilt and fear were swept away before the fury of the untrammeled passion Nikki had adroitly provoked in her newly awakened body, and with a deep, drawn sigh, she lifted her hips to draw him in more deeply.
Nikki
continued his slow rhythm, caressing her tenderly, listening to the murmurs wrung from her parted lips by the strange rapture she was experiencing for the first time and which she accepted with a growing passion by arching instinctively to meet each forceful stroke.
“Come, sweet princess, come with me,” he murmured softly, touching her neck gently with his warm lips, spoke to her in heated love-words, play-words, words that roused her further.
Nikki had discovered while still a mere youth that whispered phrases, passionate sentiments of affection, a few lustful words, can do more to take a woman over the edge than twenty minutes of the most ardent physical stimulation.
And the flush on Alisa’s cheeks was rising, a warm blush of color was spreading down her soft, white heaving breasts.
“Follow me, sweet angel,” he murmured tenderly.
She was almost there. And so was he.
Nikki held her crushed to him, his arms wrapped tightly around her slender back, holding her impaled on his rigid, engorged stiffness. His breathing was harsh and rapid, his warm whispers brushed her ear, his masculine scent touched her nostrils, tendrils of damp, dark curls clung to his forehead. He was fully roused, desperate for relief, as if he hadn’t had a woman for a long time. As if Tanya no longer existed. Succumbing to his mounting passion, he rode the crest of his desire, no longer restraining his passion, impatient for release. Alisa, too, with guiltless wonder and a long-dormant sensuality abandoned herself to the full glory of her desire. She returned Nikki’s kisses wantonly, crushed her mouth feverishly against his, ran her hands over his magnificent body, reveled in the pressure of his firm, muscular frame, hard and demanding against her tender flesh, voluptuously joined him in the selfish, sensual dance of love. She gave herself to him, willingly opened her body for his pleasure, sobbed with a passion too long deferred, keening a quiet, soft cry of rapture as he brought her to an ecstasy she had never known, as he pressed against the mouth of her womb and poured his warmth into her.
Seized by Love Page 5