Seized by Love (33 page)

Prince Mikhail turned and
disappeared into the study, while Johanos raced out the door, crying for his
cohorts. Within a few moments a group of trackers were in the saddle and
hurtling out of the courtyard while Prince Mikhail stormed about the hall,
raging still.

Princess Kaisa-leena came
running down the stairway, roused by the noise and commotion. "What's
going on, Misha?" she inquired breathlessly as she reached his side,
searching his tempestuous face for some answer.

"That damnable son of
yours, that's what's the matter!" he roared. "He's coming home. He'll
be less impudent soon, by God!" He gave her a terse outline of his plans,
then stalked away, cursing still.

Kaisa-leena sighed
resignedly. She could envision the embroiled household already. Father and son,
both with indomitable tempers, at each other's throats. She must do her best to
sooth the ruffled feathers, but she wondered this time whether she had any
chance of success.

Three days later, Nikki
stood in the library at Mon Plaisir, holding his father's note in his hand.

He had read with mounting
horror the short, crisp missive.

Alisa's divorce is being
"accelerated" by the Emperor while your marriage plans proceed.
Please be so kind as to return immediately.
My
trackers will
expedite your removal.

I'll bet they'll
"expedite" my removal, Nikki reflected with a ghost of a laugh. The
barest civility was accorded when his father used the word "please,"
but the implication of coercion was eminently plain as Nikki glanced out the
window and noted the fifteen men dismounting and stretching their limbs after
their three days of hard riding.

He'd never truly believed
that his father would have the audacity or ruthlessness to dragoon him and had
felt quite safe and content at this remote northern retreat. But here it
was—simple, direct, and certain. He was to be married.

He sighed and slumped into
a soft leather chair, kneading his brow with his left hand and getting into a
fine sweat at the thought of his father's plans. Nikki had been successfully
avoiding this tender trap for half his lifetime, had considered himself quite
proficient at the art. Now he could see that his efforts had prospered only
because of his father's sufferance.

Lord, he had no inclination
or partiality to spend the rest of his life playing checkers with the Governor
of Archangel. He knew his father's warning about a future at his estate in
Siberia was no idle threat now.

So here he was on the brink
of marriage; you can see what can come of an apparently harmless diversion.
He'd like to wring Illyich's neck. But he did love Alisa, he supposed, in a way
that was not entirely carnal and he felt quite sure she was in love with him.

There was no point in
wasting his wits and digestion ruminating over his folly, Illyich's evil wager,
or his father's astonishing new sense of priorities. Mon
Dieu,
if his
father wanted a grandson, he would happily round up any number of those, but
not, unfortunately, legitimate ones, and that seemed to be the kernel of the
immediate problem. Why suddenly had his father developed such a fine taste for
propriety?

He was snared, not a damn
thing to do about it but grin and bear it; either that or molder in Siberia for
forty-odd years. A wife need be no great encumbrance if one has money, and they
do have their conveniences, he thought; but all the same, it was a distressing,
abominable piece of madness. He kept swearing to himself as he rose from the
chair and walked upstairs to inform his mistress of her imminent change in
status.

Alisa was seated at the
mirror, brushing her hair, and smiled at Nikki as he walked into the bedroom.

"My father has
obtained your divorce and I have been commanded to marry you, and, it appears,
Madame, that we are to be married post haste," Nikki stated, a note of
grimness apparent beneath the lazy drawl.

The smile died on Alisa's
lips, and she turned to face him. Her lips trembled in anger. "Please
inform your father that no one has to marry me," she said, resentful of
Nikki's obvious reluctance. "Having endured one unsatisfactory marriage, I
don't care to venture into a second that has all the prognostications of being
a disaster, with you as unwilling husband. As you well know, I don't wish a
forced marriage," Alisa indignantly finished.

"I'm of a like
mind," Nikki declared with unfeeling candor. "And our new
relationship is so agreeable lately that 1 scarce believe it possible,"
the carefully modulated voice remarked with its old derisiveness. "But,
alas, neither of us has any choice in this matter. If I refuse," he went
on in a soft restrained voice, "my future entails a dreary life on
Father's estate in Siberia, which I'm in no mind eager to pursue. He will, no doubt,
treat you more tenderly for the sake of this grandchild he's bent on having.
Certainement,
he will remove you to his dacha on the Crimea so the little tyke will have the
creature comforts of sun and beach." He paused thoughtfully.
"Although, if one must be shackled to someone, I daresay you'll
suit." Nikki flicked a bold glance over the beautiful face and form of the
affronted woman standing opposite him in dishabille, a filmy morning robe but
imperfectly covering her. The future child was just beginning to make his
presence known; Alisa's belly rose slightly beneath voluptuous, trembling
breasts as she haughtily regarded the arrogant, lean figure confronting her.

"I'm afraid I cannot
return the sentiment, for you do not in the least suit me!" she snapped,
furious at his nonchalance, the underlying trace of contempt, that almost
flippant incivility.

Nikki shifted his weight
and advanced menacingly. Alisa involuntarily shrank back to the dressing table
as the cool golden gaze stared caustically into her own mutinous eyes. Forcing
her against the edge of the table, Nikki leaned forward slightly to within
three inches of the flashing eyes and murmured, "I beg to differ with you,
Madame, for in one area, at least, we suit to perfection, or else you are capable
of the most artful pretense since Delilah gulled Samson out of his hair."

"I won't marry
you!" she cried.

"It's customary to
wait to be asked, Madame," he snarled, at which point he ground his teeth
in exasperation and hurled the dressing table mirror through the bedroom
window.

Alisa burst into hysterical
tears at Nikki's violent display of anger, their peace and contentment
shattered as abruptly as the mirror. Running to the bed, she collapsed
facedown, sobbing into the pillows because she wanted him, and then didn't want
him because he no longer wanted her.

Nikki stood in the center
of the room, rankled and incensed, clenching and unclenching his fists as he
gazed at Alisa, tumbled on the bed. Her robe had been pushed up as she fell,
her beautiful white body exposed to the waist.

What a luscious
roses-and-cream exterior and passionate nature underneath, he mused as his
kindling sensual desire gradually inundated his temper. Walking slowly to the
bed, he pulled the robe from Alisa's shoulders. She shuddered beneath his
touch. He lay down and kissed her cheek. She turned away. Nikki unbuttoned his
pants and turned her toward him; she lay quivering against him for a moment,
then lifted her face for a kiss. His lips came down on her parted lips, and he
climbed on top of her, boots and all.

Several moments later,
Alisa lifted a provocative glance and whispered seductively, "Do you find
me a nuisance to have around?" and moved her bottom deliciously beneath
him.

"A nuisance I'm
persuaded to retain," he groaned softly, the feel of her heavenly, his
erection swelling again, and at that moment he decided marriage to Alisa had
its advan-tages. Long moments later they were both lying exhausted and content
in each other's arms.

Lord, this passionate
creature would soon be his wife, And an alarming thought crossed his mind. If
she had lain so easily with him, had there been others before—or since?

A fierce jealousy possessed
him. Would he be justified, he wondered, in keeping her locked in her
apartments in Petersburg? Even though the civilized niceties were often
paper-thin in Petersburg, such medieval techniques would cause a damnable
scandal, he decided. On the other hand, would it matter to the noble Kuzan
family if one more scandal were added to their long list? Perhaps the concept
was antiquated in the bustling, modern capital city of the Empire. Wives
weren't locked up anymore; sent away to remote convents, perhaps, but that
recourse, he very selfishly decided, would deprive him of Alisa's companionship
and warmth in bed.

Lifting himself on one
elbow, he slid out from her heated warmth and fixed Alisa with a piercing scowl
of censure. Her face was softly flushed, her eyes dreamily abstract.

"Listen to me,"
he said evenly, and shook her gently back from the depths of her passion.

"If I ever catch you
seriously flirting, I'll shoot your gallant. And if you compromise my name,
I'll shoot you." He had no intention of playing the cuckold; he'd have to
keep an eye on her; she had tumbled easily enough for him. "Am I perfectly
plain?" he inquired sharply.

"Perfectly," she
murmured complacently, and sighed, blissfully sated. Moments later, however,
when reality was more real, not entirely happy with the style of his
capitulation, she said, pouting, "But you don't love me anymore."

"I love you, dear.
There, I've said it again."

But his tone was
dismissive, as one would say, "Thank you for coming, the butler will show
you out."

"You only desire my
body," Alisa insisted pettishly. "You command me to obedience and yet
you promise nothing of yourself."

"I won't deny I desire
your flesh, I'm a man, after all, and you a lush flower of love, and if I
promise you nothing, I can't change. I'll give you shelter and food and the
luxuries of life; I will see our child wants for nothing. He or she shall have
everything money can buy. I can't promise more. I can't promise you I'll love
you forever when I don't know. Don't cry," he soothed as tears fell from
Alisa's eyes. "We have, right now, more happiness than I've ever dreamed
possible. But don't ask me to give up my independence. I cannot."

And remember for both of
us, he thought to himself as he tenderly kissed her tears away, remember these
blissful, unutterably happy days, these golden summer weeks; remember for both
of us because I can't promise for myself.