Seized by Love (35 page)

Walking into her room,
Nikki laid her on the bed, strode into his chamber next door, and returned
within seconds with a bottle of brandy and two glasses. Quickly pouring Alisa a
glass, he plumped up the pillows behind her, arranged her unprotesting form in
a half-reclining position, and handed over the glass.

Pulling up a chair near the
bed, Nikki sat down with the bottle and the other glass, poured himself a full
bumper, put his long legs up on the satin counterpane, and said mockingly in
his casual drawl, "Shall we both sheath our talons and attempt to amiably
muddle through this charade. It seems you are mine now for the rest of our
lives, and one must survive, after all. To our future, dear. Do you think we
have one?" he jibed in a soft murmur, noting the still-pallid color of
Alisa's complexion.

"Am I supposed to beg
for your favors?" Her voice was scarcely audible. "I won't, Nikki—so
the future is in your hands."

His golden eyes held hers,
for a long moment and then instead of answering, he casually said, "You'd
better drink your brandy quickly, or you won't last many minutes more, my dear.
You look quite pale." Lifting his glass in salute, Nikki drained it in one
swallow. Over the rim of the glass he held her eyes for another long,
speculative moment, his glance cool, measured, unreadable. Alisa found she
could not look away, transfixed by the depths of those golden eyes. Was it
possible she'd discerned an unease registered briefly? The expression closed
abruptly, his eyelids fell, his hand reaching out to refill his empty glass.
The moment was over.

"Come now," he
insisted half kindly in his natural lazy tone, "you must summon the
necessary energy to withstand the lengthy receiving line of our
well-wishers."

Obediently Alisa drank
slowly; the liquor burned down her throat and coursed through her bloodstream,
soon reviving her failing senses.

With an amiable courtesy
Nikki entertained Alisa quite cheerfully for the next twenty minutes,
single-handedly emptying two-thirds of the bottle while Alisa's color returned.
Alisa glanced at Nikki, comfortably sprawled in his chair, and smiled faintly.
"You're appearing less irate about this marriage."

"Alisa, my sweet, I'm
becoming more reconciled to the prospect by the moment." The brandy and
Alisa's serenity had improved his humor.

They were interrupted just
as Nikki was about to kick off his shoes, thinking, to hell with the guests.
Alisa looked so radiantly lovely, perhaps they should start the honeymoon
immediately. His irritations could seldom withstand the dual pressures of
plentiful liquor and a languorous female within reach in bed.

Princess Kaisa-leena opened
the door, and stepping halfway over the threshold, inquired solicitously,
"Do you feel well enough to come down? The guests are impatient to toast
the bride and groom."

Nikki smothered a curse in
deference to his mother and dropped his patent-leather-clad feet to the floor.
He extended his hand to Alisa. "Shall we, my dear?" he inquired
pleasantly.

Alisa and Nikki stood in
the receiving line next to Prince Mikhail and Princess Kaisa-leena for over an
hour, greeting the guests to the accompaniment of the mechanical phrases
necessary to the occasion—
"Enchantee,"
"So nice to meet
you," "Thank you so much."

Several grand dukes of both
generations attended, and after watching Alisa sink into a deep curtsey for a
second grand duke, Nikki satirically murmured, "You won't be able to
curtsey that low much longer, my blooming young wife; your belly will get in
the way."

Alisa cast him a wrathful
look of indignation, and Nikki smothered a chuckle as he turned to greet yet
another distinguished guest. Several moments later Major Cernov paused before
them and, taking Alisa's hand in his, raised it to his lips. He held it for a
moment longer than necessary while he murmured suggestively, "You're more
lovely each time I see you, Madame."

"You honor me with the
compliment, Monsieur," Alisa replied flirtatiously, paying Nikki back for
his mockery, while Nikki stood at her side, wondering what would happen if he
smashed Cernov square in the mouth. He restrained the urge, for that would be a
ripe piece of gossip indeed, the bridegroom fighting a rival at his wedding.

Abruptly Nikki turned to
his parents and said, "We are done with these civilities. If anyone else
wants to congratulate us, they can put it in writing. Come, my dear, you look
fatigued." Gripping Alisa's elbow, he drew her to him, reestablishing
possession, and whisked her away to a quiet alcove, where he snapped his
fingers for a footman carrying a tray of champagne glasses.

"Put the tray
down," Nikki said, and motioned at the table beside the sofa. Quite
oblivious of his responsibilities to his guests, Nikolai Kuzan proceeded to
empty the contents of the glasses while he grimly clasped Alisa's hand as she
sat next to him on the green satin upholstery. He burned with jealousy at
Cernov's remark and swore aloud several times between draining glasses while he
dwelt on the gall of his old friend. Damn his impudence! Alisa en-joyed this
indication of jealousy after having endured Nikki's bland indifference for so
many days.

With his usual disregard
for the courtesies of society, just as the dinner guests were filing into the
supper room for the magnificent array of dishes produced by the Kuzan chef,
Nikki pulled Alisa to her feet and pushed her ahead of him through the throng
of well-wishers and up the stairs to the nuptial bed.

Quite foxed by this time,
Nikki couldn't decide which bed to use for this momentous occasion—the
termination of his bachelorhood and the beginning of his husbandly duties.
Should he use the bed in his room or the one in Alisa's? Solving the dilemma by
deciding to take turns in both, he hastily disrobed himself, pulled off Alisa's
voluminous gown, and eased off her petticoats as she giggled from the several
glasses of champagne he'd pressed on her.

Picking Alisa up, they
collapsed on the bed, kissing and laughing. Then he kissed her long and
carefully, fondling her ripe body until she trembled beneath him, threw her
arms around his neck, and eased herself beneath his throbbing stiffness,
entering into the spirited loveplay with abandon. They were always in amorous
accord regardless of their other differences and it was no sense of husbandly
duty or adherence to his father's admonitions that kept Nikki near his wife all
night.

The following morning,
Prince Mikhail and Princess Kaisa-leena took their leave for Le Repose amid
kisses and hugs, exclamations of fondness and kind good wishes, with the
exception of Nikki and his father, who stiffly and formally bade good-bye to
each other, the strain in their relationship painfully clear.

As his carriage passed
through the dusty streets of the city, Prince Mikhail relaxed his stern,
forbidding expression, reached over, clasped the small hand of his wife
sit-ting beside him, and said wearily, "I hope I've done right by that
young woman. Have I been too harsh to insist on their marriage?"

"No, Misha, our son
resists the fact that he loves her; he'll come to accept it someday, and Alisa
loves Nikki, of that I'm sure. It's important for the coming child to have both
a mother and a father. Don't despair, all will be well," she said quietly,
and patted his large, strong hand. Silently she whispered a Tzigane charm for
the happiness of the union, for she knew how unyielding, independent, and
demanding Nikki could be. Like his father.

"I won't interfere
again," the Prince sighed unhappily. "Perhaps if left alone, they'll
build a life together for our future grandchild." Secretly he was not very
hopeful, but at least the child would have a name, and the vast assets and
resources of the Kuzan family as its patrimony. Money couldn't buy happiness,
but at least it offered luxury in one's despair, the old prince reflected
cynically.

Before many weeks had
passed in the pink marble palace on the Millionnaya, Nikki began to fall into
his old habits. At first he had grudgingly but dutifully run the rounds of
parties, drums, balls, and picnics with Alisa, but always bored, indifferent,
and obviously discontent as he either stood on the sidelines, drinking and
watching Alisa, or else disappeared into the card room for hours. In less than
a month he no longer made an attempt to hide the fact that he found these
functions intolerable.

Aleksei had more and more
taken his place as escort, and lately almost exclusively squired Alisa to the
festivities she chose to attend. Aleksei adored Alisa with the dogged
infatuation of youth and was ever ready and eager to indulge her whims. Alisa
appreciated Aleksei's youthful spirits and candor and thanked him with
heartfelt sincerity for being a companion to her. His was a friendship she
valued all the more as Nikki's interests drifted away to other pursuits.

Aleksei raged inwardly at
the callous indifference and discourteous treatment Nikki gave his wife, but
kept his indignant thoughts to himself. A verbal brawl with Nikki would
accomplish nothing for Alisa's happiness, and in the cool tenor of Nikki's
current mood, he didn't want to risk being forbidden the freedom of the house
and Alisa's company. The young man fretted but held his tongue.

Soon Nikki began staying
away from home nights, comfortably easing back into the habits of twenty years.
Alisa sobbed in sorrow and rage the first time it happened. The pain Nikki saw
in her face forced him to hurl back at her with a suppressed ferocity,
"Damn you, stop whining! You knew what I was like when you married me! Did
you not?" And then his voice dropped to a chilling murmur. "My
whoring and drinking were well known to you, Madame, before you chose to become
my mistress and then my wife. Surely it's not a shock to your delicate sensibilities.
Do not, at this late date, become full of nonsense about honorable and virtuous
conduct. You were hardly a model of propriety yourself."

"You need not insult
me," Alisa whispered unhappily.

"By God, a
femme
facile
can be insulted now," he said, wishing to hurt. "What
next? Rockets to the moon, no doubt."

"But"—his eyes
narrowed dangerously—"do not consider flirtations, Madame, or that you
have a freedom of— hmm—shall we say—outside friendships. I've warned you in
that respect. No man touches my wife. Whatever children are born of this
marriage will be Kuzan by parentage as well as by name. And I would appreciate,
Madame, in the future, if you would have the goodness to refrain from
concerning yourself in my affairs."

Alisa cried in private at
Nikki's casual freedom, but if she sometimes renewed that line of conversation,
he simply walked away, so as the weeks progressed, she accepted his behavior
because she had no other choice. But she wanted to scream, Go away! Go away! If
you don't care for me, go away! Why should she be forced to suffer his
reluctant forbearance as life companion. But the growing child, now kicking in
her womb, the need for some security in a thoroughly male-dominated world,
required that she accept the grudgingly offered hand.

How can he be the same man?
she thought with despair. Previously he was capable of great kindness, so
gentle yet so passionate when she was his mistress. Now he was cool,
indifferent, an unresponsive man who happened to live in the same residence.
She was paying a high price for her child's name. Once the seed is planted, a
man can ignore, or circumvent, or disavow; paternity is an elusive state, but
the receiver of his "gift" has no such option.

Alisa decided to make the
best of this imperfect world. She would not retire from life, but chose instead
to devote herself to Katelina and, in the future, to the new child as well. Her
second child would have a name too. Her husband, though it wrenched her heart
to conceive of it, could resume his former life—apparently he already had. But
she wouldn't humiliate herself and beg for crumbs of affection.

And yet, she often broke
into an uncontrollable torrent of unhappy tears. Her mind couldn't control her
wounded heart.

Nikki never visited her bed
anymore. She knew his need for women, and her heart was consumed with pain at
the thought.

Nikki spent his evenings
gambling at the clubs, silent, taciturn, grim, quick to anger, while his
friends remarked that marriage must not be agreeing with Nikolai Kuzan. He'd
even missed the annual war games at Tsarskoe late that summer, pleading an
extended leave for reasons of health. The easy masculine camaraderie of the
officers would have been intolerable in his present humor.

He was drinking deep, and
whispers warned to stay clear of Prince Kuzan; he was primed for trouble. When
tired of brandy and gambling, Nikki could invariably be found in one of several
Kirgiz night cafes on the islands, drinking black coffee with lemon essence and
opium, sweetened with sherbet, or smoking hashish. Both drugs soothed his
frustrations, mellowed his irritations, and assuaged his melancholy.

He would, with studied
punctuality, arrive home before Katelina wakened and wait for her in the
morning room, where she would run down to chatter with Nikki while eating her
breakfast. Dressed in his evening clothes, he would wait by the dying fire,
feeling no sense of urgency or anything beyond a detached, dreamy interest in
seeing his favorite moppet.