By lunchtime Alex's youthful reserves of energy were rejuvenating his powerful body. Zena's sensual beauty, so close he could almost touch her as she participated in the games with Bobby, necessitated a change of position, as his buckskins became extremely uncomfortable. Alex rolled on his stomach to hide the erection. In deference to modesty he passed the greater part of the afternoon in this prone position, although he wondered vaguely why he was restraining himself when he would have much preferred tossing up Zena's skirts and plunging into her right there on the floor. Alex was astonished, libertine that he was, to discover he apparently was harboring some dubious scruples. He was surprised at his generosity of spirit.
The enigmatic incredulity of uncovering previously unknown reserves of principle was too much to contemplate with the God-awful hangover he had, so the remainder of the afternoon passed restfully and uncomplicated by additional reflection.
Alex would frequently offer advice to Zena and Bobby in assembling some of the toys, sometimes reaching out a long arm to help find a difficult puzzle piece, sometimes resting his head on his arms and dozing occasionally. He also quite regularly studied Zena through dark downcast lashes, which affected his erection even more urgently as he took in the details of her fair, porcelain face, the charming intonations of her soft, mellifluous voice, and the innocent impudence of her bounteous, saucy breasts, which fit into her aquamarine dress no better today than yesterday. He'd have to buy her some clothes, he thought, deeming it perfectly permissible for his gaze to admire those fine breasts, but with an uncustomary male possessiveness unique to his former unreserved habits.
Zena, too, in guarded glances viewed the incredibly attractive man sprawled so near her. Every nerve in her body was conscious of his presence, and if she had dared, she would have reached out and touched him. When he dozed fitfully, she drank in the lithe lines of the lean form encased in buckskin straining against leg muscles. She admired the rippling power beneath the fine linen shirt stretched across brawny shoulders, and she was enchanted by the soft black waves of hair that fell over his fine cheekbones. And those heavy black lashes—my lord, they were indecently long for a man!
As the day wore on, the prince, being driven to a torturous state of affairs by the casual proximity of a gorgeous female he had promised not to touch, was racking his mind for an escape from this dilemma. His erection was under him, pressed between the floor and his stomach, engorged, strained, crazy for relief. Your cock is throbbing and hard, and you're doing nothing about it, you fool, he thought.
He had given his word on the train in a casual but not altogether benevolent fashion, and honor demanded that as a gentleman he was obliged to keep his word, but damn it all, he couldn't walk around with a constant erection. Much as he would be enchanted to regard the mademoiselle with benign friendship and observe his word, he was only human. This was the first time in his life he had ever denied himself a woman. And he was denying himself now because manners decried the necessity, honor must be served. Damn! He wasn't capable of this brotherly coexistence.
Fortunately the indelible streak of ruthlessness that had served the reprobate Kuzans so faithfully for more than a thousand years obligingly reminded him that he was an aristocrat and a prince. When one had the good fortune to possess power in the world, reasonableness, decorum, and propriety were as expendable and irrelevant as yesterday's brioche. He was a nobleman, for Christ's sake, one thousand years of arrogant breeding insisted. He didn't need manners!
His dilemma mercilessly disposed of, all scruples be damned, the prince smiled faintly as he dozed on the floor and set his mind on contriving exactly when and where he would empty this insistent throbbing erection into the delicate young miss seated opposite him. No guilt. The world, like a fine wine or a fine woman, was meant for his pleasure. It was his for the taking. Regardless of the mixed blood and diverse passions evident in the lineage of Kuzan males through the centuries, in one characteristic, in one particular attribute of their ancestry, all were in firm accord—their moral scruples were rudimentary.
8
Glancing up quickly, a small, pleased smile playing across his handsome features, Alex startled Zena, who was scrutinizing him in a most ill-bred fashion. A gleam appeared in his eyes, and his smile broadened into a warm, appealing grin as color surged into the young lady's cheeks before she hastily looked away. Eminently experienced in the pursuit of females, the prince swiftly and correctly assessed the maiden's state of mind. It appeared, he was disposed to think pleasantly, that the attraction was mutual.
Zena felt a frisson of alarm and pleasure and, with a determined effort, attempted to resist looking at the prince for the remainder of the afternoon, but occasionally her eyes would slip in his direction and be captured by his distracting, tawny gaze. When Alex suggested a sleigh ride to entertain Bobby, Zena grasped eagerly at the invitation, hoping to divert the very uncomfortable, disquieting focus of her thoughts.
It was impossible to ignore the sensuous masculinity of Prince Alex, and Zena's agitated reason leaped at the opportunity to cast off the spell of his vital sensuality. The cold, brisk winter air and a variety of interesting sights to show Bobby would shatter this awesome enchantment Alex's powerful presence was spinning around her.
"A sleigh ride sounds marvelous!" Zena exclaimed, somewhat too brittlely, as she jumped up in a restless flurry.
The little filly was jibbing at the sight of the bridle, Alex ruminated metaphorically. It had been easier to mount her the first time, he thought drolly. She was damnably frightened now of where her feelings would take her, it appeared. Never rush a temperamental filly, he cautioned himself. He preferred a willing partner, but his aching testicles reminded him—willing or unwilling—it better be damned soon.
Presently they were all snugly settled in the sleigh. Ivan drove them to the village that had been visible from the hill yesterday. When they stopped in the tiny village square, the sleigh was surrounded by smiling, chattering peasants. Prince Alex was obviously as fondly adored by the village peasants as he was by the household servants.
The prince had a cheerful word for everyone, calling each by name, and gossip flew furiously for twenty minutes as Alex inquired and was assessed of the happenings since his last visit two months previously. Bobby sat alertly intent, taking in the wildly jabbering crowd and the roaring guffaws as a joke was bandied about, and he noticed the small children who pushed up to the sleigh and stared at him in return.
"I'll be staying for a while," Alex assured the pleased throng of peasants. "Before the baryshna ['young miss'] and baby become chilled, we're on our way." He waved to the parting crowd, and soon the silent forest once again surrounded them as the road wound through dark pines.
"You're obviously well thought of by the villagers," Zena remarked as they sped through the deepening shadows of the evening twilight.
"I've spent a lot of time here as I grew up, and since my parents gave the estate to me on my sixteenth birthday I've lived here many months every year, enjoying rhe peace and tranquility." Glancing down at Bobby, Alex smiled. "See the tranquility. He's almost sleeping again."
"A carriage or a sleigh ride always produces the same results. Bobby's still almost a baby," said Zena. "Although," she sighed blissfully, "the quiet, snow covered forest is indeed restful."
"By the way," Alex remarked, apropos a subject very much on his mind, "I left instructions to have the sauna heated while we were gone. In my youth whenever I had a croupy cold the sauna was kept heated around the clock, and I was whisked in periodically to relieve the congestion. My colds always succumbed to the sauna treatment. If you care to take Bobby in before he goes to sleep, I guarantee he'll spend a peaceful night."
"That's a good idea. Thank you again for thinking of Bobby," Zena remarked gratefully. She was always somewhat surprised at the polite concern the prince showed for her young brother.
As if in answer to her unspoken speculation, Alex retorted affably, "I've always had younger brothers
and sisters, so I am quite familiar with children underfoot. Your childhood must have been quiet with no screaming, yelling crowds of siblings constantly in attendance, unlike mine. Was it lonely?" Alex inquired sincerely.
"I never thought of myself as lonely when I was a child," Zena replied reflectively. "My parents spent a great deal of time with me. Don't laugh now," she said lightly, "but my father called us The Three Musketeers. I really had a very happy childhood."
"The Three Musketeers? No!"
"Yes, I'm afraid so." Zena smiled. "He was quite incorrigibly romantic at times. In fact, my father fell in love with my mother in a thoroughly unconventional way. Papa first saw Maman on one of his trips into the mountains when researching the migration routes of the Finno-Ugrian tribes. My parents fell in love at first sight, and Papa simply carried her away."
"Carried your Maman away? Just like that?" The prince flashed a critical look upon the mademoiselle.
"It's very acceptable," Zena explained, "in the traditions of the mountain tribes. You capture your bride but ultimately pay the family for her. So Maman was all paid for right and proper, and Maman and Papa never needed anyone but each other. They hardly socialized at all, preferring their own company to that of relatives and neighbors. I think that's why Papa collapsed so completely when Maman died giving birth to Bobby. He quite literally couldn't exist without her. In the years after her death he was rarely sober. Reality without Maman was too much for him to face. He blamed himself for her pregnancy. If it weren't for him, he'd say over and over, she'd still be alive."
As the poignant memories of those difficult years were revived, Zena's beautiful blue eyes filled with tears. At the time, she had simply reacted, doing what was necessary to raise Bobby and to comfort her father, but it had been a dreadful, melancholy time. She sadly missed her parents. Zena was still only eighteen.
When Alex noted the trembling lips, he reached over and drew her into his arms. "The memories are too painful, dushka. Cry and you'll feel better," he murmured gently. He felt old and protective looking down on the unhappy girl. Maybe he should send her on to the grandfa-rher in the mountains. Perhaps it would be the decent thing to do. She'd had a difficult life the past few years. He glanced down again, taking in the flawless beauty and feeling her warm body beneath his hands. The attack of conscience fled before a wave of healthy lust. Hell! He didn't feel that old and protective.
At the comforting words and strong arms holding her close, Zena's reserve broke, and the tears she had refused to succumb to in the past spilled over; she quietly cried for all the miseries and gloom endured in the past three years. Today for the first time she allowed herself to relax the determined steadfastness that had given her the fortitude to resist utter despair in her situation.
Turning Zena gently in his embrace, Alex pressed her cheek against his chest as the tears soaked inro his jacket. After several minutes the sobs subsided, and he raised her face from his shoulder and wiped away the wetness with his handkerchief.
"Better now, right? I did my share of crying when I was a child, and it always helped."
Mutely Zena looked up and attempted a smile of gratitude. "You're very kind," she whispered.
"At the risk of extreme impertinence," he murmured softly, "it seems to me, my little dove, that you really need someone to take care of you." Zena's eyes opened in startled alarm. "Now, now, don't get excited," Alex admonished conciliatorily, as he flashed her a smile, "it's just a passing thought. Your responsibilities have been considerable the past years; that's all I was thinking."
Zena relaxed and returned the smile. "I'll be fine, really. Forgive me, I usually don't give in to emotional outbursts like that. I'm feeling much better now. Don't worry, I'm so used to coping with responsibility, I'll manage very well. When Bobby's chest cold is better we'll find my grandfather, and he'll help us, I know." Realizing with some embarrassment that she was still in the prince's arms, Zena drew back awkwardly, and Alex tactfully withdrew his arms.
In some ways, Alex thought, she was still a child with a naïveté in facing the world that bespoke a sheltered existence. In other ways she had been forced into a painful maturity beyond her years in coping with a small baby, an inaccessible father, and a malevolent aunt. You may think you can manage, my sweet, Alex continued to reflect, but unfortunately the world is full of repacious vultures waiting to pounce on such a succulent morsel as yourself. And with a cold, practiced rationality, he decided Zena would be treated more gently under his protection. There was a soft vulnerability about her that touched even his cynical soul. Better me than them, he thought with practical candor. "Of course, my dear, whatever you think," he affably conceded. The agreeable mendacity caused him not the least qualm of conscience. Little chit was appallingly innocent; to be perfectly, bluntly honest about it, the role of protector to this guileless and beautiful maid was a function he was looking forward to with undeniable pleasure. He'd tenderly teach her the game of love and indulge her every whim. What pleasure she'd bring to him—such maidenly virtues, such artless innocence, was the ultimate eroticism—a decidedly refreshing change from the bizarre, decadent dissipation so symptomatic of his life-style.
"Now tell me," he said briskly, "what did your nanny feed you when things weren't going right? What childhood food comforts you most? Hot chocolate and toast? Rice pudding with cinnamon and milk? Strawberry tarts with cream? Name it and Valentina will make it for your supper. I'm a firm believer in indulging oneself when life becomes gloomy. I suppose it's black cake again for Bobby. After supper you take Bobby into the sauna, and his cold will be much improved in the morning. I assure you. Come, dushka, lean back, we're almost home." Alex carefully placed his arm around Zena's shoulders and snuggled her close. She didn't pull away. He exhaled softly in relief. "Warm enough?" he leaned over to inquire, his smile indulgent.
"Oh, yes," Zena sighed contentedly. "Just perfect." She sank back against his shoulder. "Warm blueberry muffins with lots of butter," she breathed serenely.
"Pardon, my dear?" Alex bent low to catch the soft murmur.
"Warm blueberry muffins with melting butter, that's what I want," she dreamily replied.
"Blueberry muffins it is, then! This evening's meal is going to be a gourmand's nightmare, because I've a craving for biscuits de Reims and champagne, and you can be damned sure black cake will be required by the youngest member of this group."
Zena gurgled, her tears forgotten.
"Luckily my cook and pastry chef aren't temperamental. Home quickly, Ivan! We're getting hungry!"
Zena rested in the satisfying warmth of Alex's embrace and reflected pleasantly but with an underlying trepidation that he was like a friend, a mother, a father, and a lover, all comfort and kindness and security. She sighed wistfully. It was very hard to resist his charming ways. Simultaneously, Alex was calculating pragmatically, All I have to do is be a friend, a mother, a father, and a gentle lover. With practiced confidence he knew she would soon succumb to his charming ways. He'd wait no longer. Tonight she would be his.
Alex had always gone to any lengths to get what he wanted, and the prize was so tantalizing near. Making love in the sauna was, after all, one of his favorite and most gratifying forms of amusement, the most notorious rake in St. Petersburg mused.
9
After their meal Zena brought Bobby into the sauna, and they took steam until Bobby's breathing was clear and relaxed. An hour later Zena emerged from the sauna with a drowsy Bobby, and later he had been toweled dry, dressed, and had fallen half asleep on a long wooden bench, Mariana appeared.
"I'll take Bobby, my lady, and put him to bed."
"That's not necessary, Mariana; as soon as I dress I'll bring him in myself. You may go."
Mariana giggled and exchanged an uncomfortable glance with a maidservant who had just carried in an armload of fresh towels. Mariana shifted awkwardly from foot to foot but didn't leave.
Zena glanced up from toweling her damp hair. "What's amiss, Mariana?"
>
"Your pardon, my lady, but I'm to bring Bobby in— His Excellency's orders."
"It's so silly, really, one can hardly lift a finger for oneself around here. Oh, very well. I'm sure Prince Alex's motives are kindly."
Mariana's impish face presented an expressionless mask.
"Yes, ma'am." She bobbed and turned to pick up Bobby. Wrapping him warmly in a fur robe, she, Bobby, and the other maidservant disappeared into the cold, brisk night. A gust of sub-zero air swirled into the sultry warmth of the outer dressing room as the door shut behind them.
Zena wrapped herself in a large, soft towel and lay down on one of the wide benches. Saunas always made her lethargic, and she resolved to rest just a minute before dressing. The heated room was so comfortable that Zena relaxed indolently for quite some time before rallying her energy to return to the dacha. Wiping the steam from a large mirror, Zena began brushing her tousled curls in an attempt to arrange her long auburn tresses into some order. The moist, hot air caused her hair to curl riotously, and the brush kept snagging in the wavy tendrils.
"Damn!" she swore softly as the brush caught again, wrenching her hair painfully.
"Could I help, mademoiselle!" a familiar husky voice inquired. Zena swirled around to find Prince Alex in the dim shadows of the far wall, leaning casually against the closed door. Gasping in surprise, she quickly reached for her dress. "Allow me," the prince murmured and advanced into the small, snowbound room lit only by the rosy glow of a small stove and one lamp on a wall bracket near the mirror. He proffered a soft, azure blue woolen robe and with studious politeness held it as Zena slipped her arms in. His hand lightly brushed against the softness of her breast as he dropped his arms. Zena jumped as if burned.
Kuzan 02 - Lovestorm Page 7
