Seized by Love (17 page)

Vevay's rapt amazement,
pulling a young child in tow. The sight was enough to stagger the most rigid
demeanor, but Madame Vevay, ever resourceful, rapidly regained her composure
and, holding out both hands, warmly greeted the Prince and his party.

"Prince Kuzan!"
she gushed with an extremely deferential familiarity. "So lovely to see
you!"

"A pleasant morning to
you, Madame Vevay. May I present my"—he paused delicately, and smiled
faintly— "my—ah—cousin, unfortunately recently widowed, and her charming
daughter." A suitably grieved expression accompanied his malapert lie
concerning Alisa's "dead" husband.

Alisa flushed brightly pink
to her ears and Katelina bobbed a correct little bow as Nikki grinned broadly.
He was paying Alisa back for her challenge to his authority and for her
rudeness on the ride to the dress shop. Nikki was making certain her
possibilities for finding work as a governess were abruptly dashed. Everyone
would know within hours of their leaving Madame Vevay's that Alisa was Nikki's
newest mistress. That delicate pause had peremptorily put her in her place.
Alisa realized this too. He is daring me, she thought, to contradict the
implication, and what's more, he's quite prepared to be even more explicit if I
dare. Her courage melted away at such public disgrace.

Madame Vevay was delighted
at the prospect of dressing such a vivid beauty, a beauty enhanced by the fresh
innocence Alisa wore without pretense. Maybe it was her tender youthfulness
that appealed to Prince Kuzan's jaded palate. This mistress was scarcely more
than a child herself. Her slender voluptuousness would set off Madame Vevay's
most recherche creations, and this "cousin's" status didn't confine
her to prim, demure fashions. Madame Vevay could already envision a use for
that Byzantine tussah in her warehouse.

"I have a magnificent
fabric that requires just such a striking beauty to do it justice," she
cooed, and just such a munificent benefactor to absorb the staggering cost of
the rare fabric she reflected silently. What a delightful combination in these
two splendid young creatures.

Katelina was tugging
insistently at Nikki's hand, totally unconcerned with matters of fashion.

"Nikki, Nikki,
when
can I get my train? You promised!" she wailed, jumping up and down. Prince
Kuzan, in a totally uncharacteristic move calculated to raise eyebrows and drop
open the mouth of anyone privy to the scene, bent over kindly to the tugging
and pleading little girl and in a soothing Finnish dialect quieted her tantrum.

Searching in his pocket,
Nikki handed Katelina several silver roubles, stood upright, and deposited a
packet of roubles in Rakeli's hand.

"Now are you
happy?" he asked the beaming young child. Then he gave instructions to
Rakeli and explained. "If you're finished at the toy store early, just
have Feodor wait outside until we complete our purchases. Now have a good time.
Feodor knows exactly where to go. Give your mother a kiss good-bye, little
brown eyes," he ordered softly.

The bouncing child threw
her arms around her mother's waist and lifted her face for a kiss. Alisa smiled
at her happy young daughter and bent to kiss her.

"Say thank you to
Prince Kuzan," she admonished gently.

"Thank you,
Uncle
Nikki!" Katelina cried as she dashed toward the door, Rakeli in hot
pursuit.

Uncle
Nikki? That
designation raised even Madame Vevay's unflappable eyebrows. Prince Kuzan had
never publicly recognized any of his natural children. He was generous and
thoughtful concerning their support, but didn't acknowledge them, except
monetarily, in any fashion whatsoever. His life-style, to this point, hadn't
embraced the world of children. He simply moved in circles in which children
were never seen or discussed.

His wasn't a malicious
disregard but rather a selfish indifference. Everyone in town was aware of the
trust he had funded for Countess Souvanieff's last child. Bank clerks and
servants were notorious gossips, and no bit of scandal passed unnoticed below
stairs.

So, to see the cold
reserve, the unrufflable hauteur of Prince Kuzan yielding to a dynamo of
enthusiasm was unprecedented. And he spoke Finnish to the little tyke in
public; he had never even deigned to speak Russian outside the barracks before,
French being the exclusive language of society. Surely this fresh, young,
dazzling matron at his side must have some powerful attraction. Madame Vevay
was consumed with curiosity.

"If Madame will follow
me, please," Madame Vevay said graciously to Alisa, this obviously clever
woman who had managed to induce Nikolai Kuzan to abandon the habits of a
lifetime and actually appear solicitous in public to nothing less than a pert
child. Madame Vevay gestured toward an open doorway into a private fitting
salon.

But the imperturbable
Prince showed no indication of politely accepting a dismissal from anyone.
Instead, he followed the two women at a leisurely pace into the salon, seated
himself comfortably in a gilded brocade fauteuil which creaked indignantly
under the impact of his weight, stretched his long legs out before him,
impeccably clad in the biscuit-colored trousers, and leaned back at ease. He
looked thoroughly at home in this elegant green and gold showroom, as if he
were frequently a visitor to the inner sanctums of fashionable modistes, when,
in fact, Nikki normally waited with impatient indifference outside in the
anteroom while his mistresses selected their dresses, showing not the slightest
inclination to concern himself with their purchases.

Madame Vevay, disconcerted
at Prince Kuzan's presence in the room, stammered in confusion, but quickly
recovered and inquired inquisitively, "Monsieur is interested in selecting
the fabric and designs?"

"But of course,"
Nikki replied blandly, as though this, too, were a perfectly normal practice of
his. In a pleasant tone he explained, "My cousin and I don't believe
unduly in the old-fashioned tradition of mourning, so
I
don't want any
somber black or gray crepes. Some vivid, bright colors, I think," he said
consideringly, flicking a leisurely glance up and down Alisa's body as she
stood flushing angrily before him. With a bold crudeness he added quietly,
"While the thought occurs to me, we'll order two dozen silk negligees, an
assortment of colors, and the usual lace and ribbon froufrous."

"Very good, Monsieur,
two dozen it will be. If you will excuse me one moment, I'll gather my designs
and perhaps one or two dresses for Madame to try on for size."

Alisa, furiously
embarrassed at Nikki's presence, after Madame Vevay left the room, snarled,
"I hope this charade is amusing you, Prince Kuzan!"

"You always amuse me,
darling, in countless and delightful ways," he replied, looking at her
insolently from under half-lowered lids, his superb self-confidence evident in
every word.

Madame Vevay bustled back
into the room, her arms full of sketches, fabrics, and dresses, and set about
her business.

Nikki watched
appreciatively as Alisa's blouse and skirt were removed; soon she stood
blushing in corset, chemise, and petticoats, the delectably lovely swell of her
breasts rising above the tightly laced stays.

Madame Vevay was astonished
to see multiple bruises lightly visible on the ivory purity of Alisa's flesh,
and considered silently. Does Prince Kuzan beat her? He had a reputation for
profligacies as well as a taste for the bizarre, but she'd never heard rumors
of perversions. Nevertheless, this woman had been badly beaten and not too long
ago. A new quirk of his? she pondered, her curiosity about this relationship
further roused.

Slipping a white beaded
silk creation over Alisa's head, Madame Vevay made a few tucks and adjustments
after buttoning up the back securely. The gown was of white silk, the skirt
entirely covered with white bugles. The tunic was, like the skirt, of white
silk and was edged with a rich trimming of colored silk embroidery worked by
hand on the fabric itself. The sash at the back was embroidered to match, and
the whole length of sash was surrounded by a deep white fringe of bugles. Vivid
violet velvet ribbon outlined the flounces and ruffles terminating in bouffant
bows at shoulders, decolletage, and hip.

"Come closer,
dear," Nikki demanded. "You look very lovely in white."

Alisa reluctantly drew
closer but remained outside his reach.

"Come
here,
love," Nikki firmly said, holding his hand out to touch her as she
unwillingly stepped a few paces nearer.

Was the young woman that
afraid of him? Madame Vevay conjectured, although she realized it was safer to
stop speculating about the private lives of reckless patricians like Nikolai
Kuzan. He was much too rich and well connected to antagonize.

Nikki clasped Alisa's hand,
straightened his posture somewhat, and pulled her between his legs.

"Turn around now so I
can see the dress from all sides," he murmured softly, and twirled her
slowly. The silken skirts brushed against his legs. Under his careful scrutiny

Alisa turned, her slender
form exquisitely shown off in the revealing gown, cut daringly low in the
bodice.

"I like it," the
Prince declared emphatically. "We'll take this one, Madame Vevay."

"It's much too
extravagant!" Alisa whispered, Nikki's presence unnerving her. "Where
can I possibly ever wear something like this?"

"Why not at dinner
tonight with me?" he softly said. "You'll quite improve my
appreciation of dining en famille and I might decide to stay home this evening.
Even the entertainment of the Yacht Club's gambling rooms can't hope to match
your allure."

Shame overcame her at his
unequivocal description of her role. And then anger at his casual appropriation
as though she existed only for his amusement.

"You can't force me to
dine with you and serve as your 'entertainment!'" Alisa retorted, looking
mutinous. "I'm not going to!"

"Aren't you, by
God?" Nikki responded, and, to Alisa's distinct chagrin, a smile of the
most unalloyed amusement appeared on his face. "We shall no doubt see.
Now, try on that other dress," he said authoritatively, and pushed Alisa
gently out into the center of the salon. In a louder voice, intended for the
modiste's ears, he said, "The second dress, Madame Vevay."

Nikki's eager gaze surveyed
the slender body slipping into a dark green silk-twill morning dress trimmed in
green velvet, and he smiled lazily at her as she bent to straighten the skirt
and spilled provocatively out of her corset. It was one of his favorite aesthetic
diversions, watching women dress. With a succulent, luxurious beauty like that
she should wear sables, the natural ones with the golden vaguely foxy tint to
complement her hair, he mused. He would wrap her in sables this winter.

Madame Vevay was clucking
and fussing, keeping up a steady inane chatter.

Meeting Nikki's gaze, Alisa
quickly dropped her seductively lashed violet eyes before that unmistakable
long, burning glance.

Damn her, the lure was
overpowering, he thought as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He could
just
look
at her and forget everything else.

Nikki had a disturbing
impulse that perhaps this
amour
was not going to be like all the rest,
an uneasy sensation of being drawn in beyond the usual barriers he studiously
maintained against emotional involvement. But he'd never turned aside because
of a premonition before. Temperamentally he denied withdrawal, or retreat, or
too much introspection; he lived life rashly, like a bold and bruising
hell-for-leather rider, and if that was the quickest way to a broken neck—the
consequences be damned!

As a connoisseur of fine
female flesh and style, Nikki was aware that Alisa was more beautiful than
most, while instinctively, and temperamentally, one of the best women to give
pleasure in bed. His feelings weren't necessarily any more involved; he thought
she was just a rarer jewel, a more precious bauble, and he'd be a fool not to
react to these unique and delightful attributes. He began to understand
Forseus's reluctance to let Alisa out in the world.

Raising a languid hand, he
beckoned Alisa toward him. She approached slowly, wearing her most
jeunesse
doree
look, young, petulant, sullenly beautiful.

"Smile, love,"
Nikki drawled. "You're supposed to bring me pleasure."

A fixed tight smile
appeared.

"Now," he said
equably, unperturbed by the grimace, "if you could contrive to behave as
charmingly as you look, one could hardly ask for more."

"That's impossible,
under the circumstances!" whispered

Alisa, casting a glance of
contempt upon Nikki's smiling face.

"One can but
hope," Nikki murmured as he pulled her down on his lap. He liked to touch
her, as if it gave him some kind of ownership.

"Madame Vevay, bring
your sketches. My cousin and I will select some of your designs to have made
up, hopefully, very quickly."

"Oh,
certainement,
Prince. There will be
no
delay, I assure you."