Seized by Love

by Susan Johnson

  Moving over to the table, Nikki lifted the covers on the silver dishes tastefully arranged on a hand-woven beige linen cloth; the crystal and china sparkled in the candlelight of four tall tapers.

  “A magnificent meal. Come, dear, sit down. Look, I ordered all your favorite foods, although I apologize for not offering sterlet.8 We left in such a rush, you’ll forgive the oversight.” A flicker of a grin appeared.

  And indeed he had bespoken her food preferences, Alisa noticed as she sat down and glanced over the sumptuous array before her: mushroom soup Madeira, duck au bigarade, brook trout in white wine sauce, cucumbers in sour cream, buttered baby carrots, wild strawberry tarts, large crusty rolls of dark rye, and almond dragées to complete the repast.

  Nikki lounged comfortably in a large bergère that had been pulled up to the table.

  “I would like a glass of champagne,” he quietly ordered, adjusting the cuffs on his well-fitting chamois jacket.

  “I’m not your servant,” Alisa snappishly replied.

  “You are now, my love, for you see, if you don’t do as you’re told, you don’t eat. It’s very simple, très simple,” he breathed softly. (Having watched Alisa’s healthy appetite increase due to her pregnancy, he’d thought himself diabolically inspired to have devised such an affable form of persuasion.)

  “You wouldn’t!” she gasped in horror.

  “Try me,” he said flatly.

  Her eyes blazed in anger.

  “I would like a glass of champagne,” he repeated.

  Alisa stubbornly sat where she was, seething with indignation, telling herself she’d starve before she did what he commanded.

  “Dear, dear, I can see you’re going to be difficult. I was so looking forward to a pleasant evening.” Putting the covers back on the heated dishes, Nikki helped himself to champagne and drank several glasses as he relaxed in his chair, watching the firelight, refilling his glass, occasionally offering an idle bit of gossip as conversation, which was pointedly ignored by the tight-lipped, seething beauty opposite him. In this same tranquil, easy manner he drank a bottle of Clicquot and was opening the second when he apologetically remarked, “I can’t wait for you any longer. Please excuse my discourtesy; I believe I’ll eat.” He helped himself lavishly to each of the foods, pulled his chair slightly closer to the table, and began eating slowly, resting between mouthfuls to drink his champagne. Nikki maintained a steady, quiet dialogue, praising the flavor of the duck, remarking on the delicate hint of fennel in the trout sauce, activating the salivary glands in Alisa’s mouth so she had to swallow often. He pretended not to notice.

  Alisa hadn’t eaten much that day, in fact, the entire five days had been pick-up meals and cold collations as they journeyed into this wilderness. She was inordinately hungry, bombarded now with the sight and delicious aromas of all her favorite dishes, and as Nikki had surmised, even more ravenously hungry due to her pregnancy. Damn his black soul, she was starving and he sat there chewing his food so slowly and carefully, you’d think he was a taster for some foreign potentate. She swallowed hard once again.

  After some minutes of leisurely dining, Nikki softly reiterated, “I’d like some champagne,” and he held out his goblet.

  Alisa hesitated a long moment—then, forcing aside her pride, she rose and poured the stemmed glass full of the bubbling liquid.

  “Now may I eat?” she inquired sarcastically.

  “Soon, dear. I’d like you to feed me first. It will teach you obedience. My comforts come first.”

  Gritting her teeth on the reply that sprang to her tongue, Alisa stood beside Nikki and dutifully fed him. He smiled up at her encouragingly between bites, blandly disregarding the glares she returned. Much later, when he deemed himself finally satisfied, she returned to her chair, sat down, and reached for the food.

  Nikki rapped her knuckles lightly with the hilt of a silver knife, arresting her hand in midair. Alisa gasped.

  “Forgive the delay, but I’m afraid there’s one more lesson yet, my sweet. I never quite received the proper replies to my questions that first night in the carriage. Perhaps you’ve reconsidered your answers. I stated that I’ll not tolerate you being trifled with by other men. Do you recall?”

  Alisa sulkily shook her head and peevishly replied, “That hardly remains a problem out in this desolate part of the world. I’m three hundred versts from the nearest dance or party.”

  “You may not be here forever. I want an answer,” he said shortly, fixing her with a steady look. “Are you going to flirt with other men in the future?” he patiently inquired.

  She looked at him woodenly, refusing to answer.

  “Are you?” he questioned, a scowl darkening his brow.

  “I may,” she replied, yawning, her devil of a will incorrigible.

  “What?” he hotly whispered, swearing roundly. Reaching across the small table, he took her face between his powerful hands and, glaring at her, whispered, “What did you say?”

  She tried to glare back belligerently, but her eyes fell before the fury in his.

  “No,” she gasped softly.

  His hands slowly relaxed their cruel grip and he released her face and leaned back in his chair while a faint smile lifted his lips.

  “You’re learning to be sensible, my dear. Come here and sit on my lap; I’ll feed you now.”

  “I can perfectly well feed myself,” she spat out, her violet eyes filled with resentment.

  “Come,” he commanded quietly, and she went.

  Nikki fed her slowly as he held her on his lap. She ate and ate, the flavors delicious, the variety magnificent.

  “I’m full. I would like to return to my own chair.”

  “A little more,” Nikki insisted patiently.

  “No.” Alisa clamped her mouth shut obstinately like a small child.

  “Come, love, a few more bites. I want my baby to be fat and healthy, and I delight in your curves filling out,” Nikki murmured as he slipped his hand into the bodice of her negligee. “Such full, soft breasts,” he whispered. “They fairly cry to have someone suck them. Take off your gown, chérie, so I can caress your divine breasts.”

  “No, Nikki,” she protested, drawing back from him, “they’re so tender lately.”

  “If I promise to be gentle?” he murmured huskily as he lowered his head. Her protestations were immediately quieted as pleasure surged through her senses when his lips touched her nipples.

  “Ah, love,” he softly sighed, lifting his head briefly as he ran his hands over her swelling hips and looked into her languorous eyes, already sinking into sensuality. With an indrawn breath she felt the world drifting away and experienced a shivering thrill as his fingers glided between her legs.

  “You’ve changed your mind. I know you better than you know yourself,” he whispered. “You’ve learned well but still won’t admit you were made for love. It’s no sin to acknowledge your desires.” His long, lean fingers were probing, caressing, making her wet with passion and desire. “Your body needs me as much as I need you.” He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the beautifully sculptured pine bed lavishly decorated with carved flowers and leaves.

  “Tell me you need me,” he whispered as he lowered her onto the bed.

  “I need you, Nikki.…” Her dark eyes entreated, her soft voice implored, her hands reached up to draw him near.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE STALEMATE

  There was little sleep that night, for the Prince after almost three weeks of missing Alisa in his bed had an immoderate hunger for her. She always offered her initial resistance, but he wooed her and inevitably prevailed. Her senses passionately responded each time, and she hated herself after for that betrayal. By dawn Alisa was sore and tender and swollen.

  “No, Nikki, please, no, I can’t bear any more,” she whimpered. He caressed more softly but he wouldn’t stop. He slid between her legs, spread her thighs, and within minutes he had once again brought them both to a frenzied ecstasy. Kissi
ng her gently as he withdrew from her warm body, Nikki whispered apologetically, “Forgive me; you bring on a fever in me that won’t be quenched.”

  • • •

  Later that morning, in an atmosphere once again heavy with hostility, for in the cooler moments, removed from Nikki’s passionate embrace, Alisa still raged at her bondage, he silently began opening Alisa’s trunks and portmanteaus, pawing through clothing with a fine disregard for wrinkles.

  “Leave them, Monsieur,” Alisa said icily from the huge bed. “I’ll unpack them myself.”

  Ignoring her, Nikki continued in his search until he found the articles he wanted. All twenty-four of the assorted negligees and peignoirs ordered from Madame Vevay were located. Taking out only the peignoirs, Nikki hung each one in the armoire, shut the trunks, unlocked the door, and in one swift motion shoved the luggage out into the hall.

  Walking back into the room, he scooped up the yellow dress and petticoats still in a heap on the floor, threw them over his arm, and proceeded to move toward the door.

  “What in the world are you doing? You can’t leave me without any clothes!” Alisa protested, aghast, rising from the bed, a silken sheet clutched to her full breasts.

  “Au contraire, my dear. I can and I do.”

  “I need my clothes!” she cried in frustration.

  “Let me assure you, my love”—a wicked leer lit up his wolfish yellow eyes—“your activities will require no clothing. I leave the peignoirs merely in deference to modesty should you care to take some air on the balcony.”

  “You—you’re despicable, loathsome; I hate you!” Alisa sputtered, sinking back onto her pillows in chaffing frustration.

  “My, my, how soon we forget,” Nikki murmured in mock dismay. “Why, no more than two hours ago I recall you crying rather plaintively for my presence.”

  Laughing at Alisa’s discomfiture as she flushed pink to her hairline, Nikki turned and left the room. She hated him then, hated him for making her melt in his arms, making her forget all his iniquities forced upon her with only his expert touch.

  The situation remained thus for almost a week. Alisa was confined to the room. Battle lines were drawn, heated words exchanged—a stalemate between two tempestuous, willful temperaments. The only reverses were those suffered by Alisa when Nikki skillfully, patiently roused her senses to a passionate need for him. As soon as the sexual skirmish was over, the advance was beaten back. He gained ground only to lose it once again when her sensibilities calmed, when her tremblings ceased.

  One afternoon Nikki was seated, reading, in one corner of the large bedroom, while Alisa sadly stared out the window at the beautiful lawn and garden, the sparkling surface of the lake in the distance dancing in the light breeze, a landscape still refused to her. She’d been locked up in this room for six days now, forced to accede to Nikki’s wishes, and her nerves were taut.

  Nikki glanced up from the page and quietly watched the stubborn set of Alisa’s back as she stood immobile before the windows, barefoot, her shapely form wrapped in a sea-green lace dressing gown, silhouetted against the brilliant afternoon sunlight.

  Within seconds his erection was rigid. My God, he only had to look at her and he wanted her. She went to his head like a drug. He was going to push himself into insensibility in a few more days at this rate, although, he reflected lecherously, it was a pleasant way to go.

  “Chattel,” Nikki said provokingly, “come here.”

  Alisa spun around.

  “Go to hell!” she said, glaring at the lounging figure in the cushioned chair.

  Why did he taunt this woman? Nikki wondered. It was unprecedented for him to want to totally possess any female. In all his former liaisons Nikki had remained deliberately aloof, never wishing to satisfy more than a casual lust. This independent, strong-willed creature was a challenge to him, a piquant change from the accommodating women in his past. And that fierce determination was like a tossed gauntlet. It raised his blood. He would possess her totally; she would bend to his will. An irrational impulse drove him.

  “Come here,” he repeated softly, and crooked a finger. She didn’t move, favoring him only with a silent, poisonous look.

  “The cabin deep in the forest waits you,” Nikki reminded her in a mellifluous murmur, his sweet tone belied by the dangerous glitter in his eyes.

  She came then, eyes downcast, walking slowly across the room and stopping several feet distant from the sprawled legs.

  “Reconcile yourself, Alisa,” he said gently, “for I mean to keep you near me.”

  She opened her mouth as if to speak, and he stayed her with a raised finger. Shaking his head slowly in baffled self-disgust, his voice dropped to almost a whisper.

  “Don’t ask me why again; I don’t know. I can’t tell you. All I know is you’re in my blood; I need the taste and feel and scent of you. I want the warmth of your skin next to mine in the morning when I wake; I want to know you’re here to welcome me when I return.” He glared almost in bitterness at Alisa. “I want to fuck you day and night.” She shuddered before the crudeness of the remark and the piercing savageness of his fierce eyes.

  “And”—he laughed a short, bitter rasp at the painful, unfamiliar sense of possessive jealousy she raised in him—“I feel an unaccountable need to keep you for myself. No other man shall touch you. Stay willingly or unwillingly. It scarce matters to me, but rest assured, my little dove, you will stay. Now, take off your clothes. I have need of you.” Her hand reached up and began unbuttoning the front of her dressing gown.

  He had won another round.

  Nikki drew Alisa to him and caught her in a powerful embrace; his fingers grasped the curls at the back of her neck, tightening, forcing her head back as he pressed ruthless, demanding kisses on her lips, her throat, her trembling breasts, branding her as his in a savage assuagement of the uncomfortable, compromising sensations she engendered in him.

  A sweeping movement slid her robe aside, off her shoulders, and it drifted to the floor. Scooping her high against his hard, muscular chest, he carried her to the bed, settled her beneath him, and penetrated the soft, warm flesh that held him in thrall with silken bonds of mindless desire. He fiercely resented his passionate bondage and savagely invaded her, each powerful stroke an exorcising of his frustration. Alisa’s soft, whimpering cries finally pierced the confusion of his black anger, and he was aware of hurting her. Taking her face gently between his hands, he tenderly kissed her tears away, murmuring apologies, whispering quiet entreaties, gently rocking in a slow rhythm that caressed and stroked and roused.

  She wanted his love but he gave her passion. In the dark recesses of her soul she wanted to be his wife; he wanted only a sensuous mistress.

  Soon they both forgot all else but their need for each other as the driving ecstasy reached consummation and they met once again on the only common ground that offered them both surcease.

  • • •

  In the mornings Alisa watched from the balcony as Nikki patiently taught Katelina to ride her pony and handle the reins of the small red pony cart. A warmth of feeling would rush over her then; he was so good to Katelina. If only he didn’t insist on owning her in such a feudal display of authority, leaving no dignity or pride. Damn him, damn him for making her want him, for after six days of continuous lovemaking, morning, afternoon, and night, Alisa’s passions were roused by Nikki’s merest touch, her body addicted to the titillation of its senses—a brushing hand, a soft caress enough to instantly activate the sensuous nerves that cried for, yearned for the exquisite torment and pleasure of satiation. Her need grew more intense with indulgence.

  And that night was no different from the rest; a war of words and thoughts, Alisa persisted in her verbal assault.

  “Why do you insist on humiliating me? Women aren’t simply things, playmates in bed. We have feelings too. We’re equal.”

  “Equal?” he retorted in astonishment. “Nonsense! Why would a woman want to be equal? Isn’t it enough to be normal
and happy? You’re beautiful,” he murmured, reaching for her. “Come here.” The audacious thought summarily left his mind as Alisa’s seductive image provoked his desires.

  She resisted his advances as she always did since they had adopted their lines of battle. Within seconds Nikki pushed her aside in disgust.

  “Sacrebleu!” he exploded. “You’re insufferable. Why do you always fight me? Why do I always have to force you? Can’t you admit your desire? Do you think I don’t know when a woman wants me? You wanted me from the first day I met you.”

  I know, she sadly thought.

  “There’s nothing more gratifying or flattering to a man than to have an irresistible woman want to be his lover.9 You, it seems, are incapable of confessing to these natural feelings.”

  He glared at her lying beside him. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled. “You win. I’m leaving tomorrow. You can stay or go, I don’t care. I’ll not bother you again. Take your damnable pride and dignity and I hope you find them good company! Ivan will set up a trust in your name at the bank in Petersburg for our child. It will be adequate to offer you and the child financial security. And I trust you’ll find some accommodating man to bolster your insufferable ego.”

  Nikki turned his back to her and immediately fell asleep.

  Alisa lay frozen beside him. How could he? How could he be so unfeeling? He was leaving her in the morning and he could sleep as though all the world were in peaceful accord.

  Alisa tossed fitfully as her awful pride waged a battle against her love for Nikki. How could she love a man who only used women, who ridiculed and railed against clever women, who spoke of setting up a nursery someday with some compliant young chit. How could she love him? Had she lost all reason? She meant no more to him than any of the women who had been dogging his heels since he entered manhood. And when he left her, she’d be desolate, life would hold no joy, no meaning, her future would stretch bleak and empty. Is hellish pride worth that desolation and unhappiness? she wondered. Was her body so inviolable and precious that she couldn’t give it freely to the man she loved? But he didn’t love her, she piteously cried. She needed him to love her.