Seized by Love (28 page)

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 dragees to
complete the repast.

Nikki lounged comfortably
in a large bergere 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,
tres
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,
cherie,
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.

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. Kissing 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.