Kuzan 02 - Lovestorm

by Susan Johnson

  Alex swung up into the saddle and settled Zena before him.

  The sentries at the entrance to the tent whispered, "Mistress Zena?"

  Ivan and the trackers hauled themselves into the saddle.

  The guards inside the entrance to the tent whispered, "Mistress Zena!"

  The six horses wheeled and galloped through the village of tents.

  The whisper passed like a whirlwind from servant to servant inside the main chamber of the tent.

  "Mistress Zena?" Ibrahim Bey cried and then threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "By all that's holy, Abdul," he smiled benignly. "Mistress Zena! She was no stranger to him, then. That's old Iskender-Khan's granddaughter everyone's looking for, and if I don't miss my guess, young Prince Alexander's paramour." He chuckled irrepressibly. "By the beard of Allah, Abdul, we could have beggared the man!"

  As they rode out into the desert, Alex issued a curt command to his cohorts. "Keep your distance, no closer than five hundred yards."

  Le coït de cheval was going to serve him this night. Lifting the warm, soft woman in his arms, he pushed her cape aside and turned her toward him. She automatically wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and began pressing her soft breasts into the medals and buttons on his tunic.

  "Soon, love, soon." Unbuttoning his riding pants, Alex pulled out his engorged penis, raised Zena slightly, and impaled her on his erect stiffness. Wrapping Zena's legs around his waist, he gave a gentle nudge to Pasha, and the black stallion broke into a slow gallop.

  Rocked by the gentle motion of the horse, Zena came to orgasm after orgasm, clinging to Alex and sobbing with pleasure. Alex restrained himself, wanting to offer her as complete satisfaction as her burning, passionate body demanded. Soon she began to quiet, the shudders of ecstasy less pronounced, her agitated movements stilled. Kicking Pasha into a mad gallop Alex had his way with Zena, and when morning came, he carried a much subdued, peacefully sleeping woman in his arms.

  6

  When Zena awoke, she found herself lying on a padded carriage seat. Glancing around in fright, the terror died in her eyes as she saw Alex lounging on the opposite seat.

  "You finally woke up, dushka" he said as he leaned across the aisle and gathered her into his arms.

  Zena burst into tears as all the horror, fear, and humiliation of the past week overwhelmed her. Rocking her gently, Alex patted her soothingly. "It's all over, my sweet. That terrible nightmare is past. You're safe with me." He kissed her wet cheeks and then softly caressed her lips. "Bobby and I have missed you damnably," he breathed. "Don't run away again. The world is too dangerous for innocents like you."

  Zena just sobbed harder, clinging to the man she loved, lying heavily against him in a kind of disbelieving dream, afraid it might end and she'd be back with the bandits. She wanted this moment to last forever, just feeling his arms around her while she clung to him, breathing in his familiar, lovely masculine scent. Alex reached up and pulled one of her hands from around his neck, turned the palm to his lips, and ran his mouth over the soft surface. Still grasping her hand, he looked at Zena over her fingertips.

  "Why didn't you tell me about the child?" Alex asked softly.

  "I thought ... I thought you wouldn't care."

  "Of course, I care," Alex remonstrated gently. Zena's

  eyes brightened with hope. Maybe he did love her after all. "As soon as we get back, I'll buy you a house in St. Petersburg or Moscow." He paused. "Why not in both cities? Ask for whatever you want, child, it's yours."

  Renewed tears streamed slowly down Zena's pale cheeks.

  "Did I say something wrong?" Alex inquired, genuinely perplexed at the fresh outpouring of tears. He had offered what he thought was a generous settlement. Women could be strangely puzzling, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that he had just made some mistake. No doubt her pregnancy was contributing to these peculiar, changeable exhibitions of emotion. Wasn't erratic behavior, as well as bizarre food tastes, a characteristic of enceinte females?

  Zena sighed softly, wiping away the wet paths on her cheeks. "No, Sasha," she said sadly, "you didn't say anything wrong."

  Relieved, Alex hugged her tenderly. "Don't cry anymore, dushka. I'll take care of you and the baby."

  There was no mention of marriage. It hadn't even entered his mind.

  She loved him with all her heart, and she overlooked the omission. Maybe someday her pride would return and she could reject the warmth of his arms, the tender passion he offered her. But now, right now, all she wanted was to be with him on any terms at all. It was as if she had been dead and now her lifeblood came flooding back.

  "We'll have a nursery decorated at the dacha, too," he said, presuming all women relished the decorating and redecorating of rooms. He was seeking to offer suggestions Zena would like, trying in a vague, imperfect way to indulge her wishes. His masculine expertise in matters of feminine pleasures outside the bedroom was rudimentary. He wanted to please and gladden her. He wanted her happy because he was happy. Alex didn't realize (his notion of the concepts of love and marriage inchoate) that what Zena wanted, money couldn't buy.

  They traveled back to Vladikavkaz by carriage. Alex was solicitous and charming, taking great care to avoid topics either controversial or melancholy. The reunion with Bobby and the nursemaids was joyful, and soon they all boarded Alex's private car to make the trip to Kislovodsk. Ivan stayed behind a few days to organize the first shipment of horses to Ibrahim Bey.

  Alex had insisted they proceed to Kislovodsk, one of the four towns built at Besh-Tau, where the famous Caucasian health springs were. His family had a villa there, and he wanted Zena to recuperate fully from her ordeal before continuing the journey north.

  Kislovodsk, the most beautiful of the four towns built in the neighborhood of Besh-Tau, was far superior to the most worldly European spa in luxury and magnificence. Villas and palaces formed a municipality that boasted some of the finest gardens in the East. The whole town was a unique delight of nature created by the nobility and bankers of St. Petersburg for their leisure pleasure.

  It was a fairy-tale city: tropical plants and forests, rushing mountain torrents, craggy cliffs, and picturesque people. There was never such a mixture in the world between the romance of the East and the refined culture of the West as evidenced in the luxurious spa of Besh-Tau.

  Alex, Zena, Bobby, and the servants settled into the Kuzan villa that evening. The next two weeks were nonpareil. Alex pampered Zena extravagantly, exerting himself in unprecedented style to divert and amuse her as she regained her strength after the fearful trek over the mountains.

  He personally served her breakfast and lunch, insisting she stay in bed to rest until noon. In the afternoon they rode abroad or took the mineral water at one of the baths or just lay on the veranda in the sun. Bobby gamboled in the extensive park surrounding the villa and thrived in the warm, salubrious climate. All traces of chest congestion that had plagued him disappeared.

  It would have been the most absurd folly to despise the luxury, the gentle tenderness, the solicitous concern Alex showered on Zena, and she derived comfort from Alex's care and basked in the delicious gratification of her senses. He soothed and flattered her emotionally until she felt like a purring cat whose fur had been stroked the right way. Alex had always been disposed to render her a helpless addict to his enchanting sensuality. Their pleasures in bed reached hitherto unknown heights.

  One evening Zena and Alex lay in each other's arms sated from lovemaking; gentle spring breezes wafted through the open doors of the veranda, and a portion of the dark, twinkling sky was visible through the door. After several hours of unrestrained and uncommon lovemaking, Zena was disturbed again with one of her awkward flutters. Having been bred to conform to society's etiquette of decorum, yet witness to the withering humiliation of her aunt's contemptuous, vile allegations that all Circassian women were sluts, she pondered unsurely over Alex's reaction to her venturesome audacity in the rapturous throes of passion. She
had never discussed the propriety of eager, unconstrained activity in the bedchamber. Would he truly classify her as a harlot for her perhaps overzealous ardor? Did he think less of her for her enthusiasm?

  With a certain degree of faint heart she decided to risk finding out. "Sasha?" she murmured, lying with her head on his chest.

  "Ummm?" Alex responded languidly as he rested comfortably in the huge bed, one arm holding Zena, the other propped behind his head.

  "Do you find me too aggressive sometimes?" she asked bashfully.

  "What do you mean?" he placidly replied.

  "Oh, I don't know, maybe too crude or vulgar or presumptuous in bed."

  Alex smiled lazily in the darkened room. "Still worried about ladylike behavior, child? Just so long as you don't throw up on me, that's all I ask. I have never been accused of squeamishness, but at that vulgarity I draw the line. It quite cools my ardor. Satisfied, ma petite?" he laughed. "Let me assure you," he continued seriously, "the notion that well-bred ladies don't debase themselves by succumbing to animal passion is the invention of glacial, unresponsive prigs. It's all the most deceptive humbug, and I speak from experience with a great variety of aristocratic, well-bred ladies.

  "Ouch!" Alex exclaimed as Zena's teeth bit into the flesh of his arm. "What the hell was that for?"

  "That was for the great variety of aristocratic ladies."

  "Tiens! Darling, you can't suppose you were the first," he said with brutal candor. Then his eyes twinkled. "If you're disposed to nibble, though, love," Alex teased mockingly, "my aristocratic ladies preferred other areas on which to nibble. Should I show you, child?" At which point, he expeditiously warded off a violent blow directed toward his face, and a tussle ensued, punctuated with much laughter and chuckles of delight.

  Having effortlessly pinned Zena to the bed, after what he considered a reasonable indulgence of her desire to pummel him, he now rode above her, a wicked smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

  "You lose, pet. Now you must pay."

  "No!" Zena cried gaily, struggling to gain her freedom.

  "No?" Alex exclaimed in mock indignation. "You dare to say no? I'll tickle you into submission," which course of action he immediately pursued.

  "Stop, stop," Zena squeaked and giggled. "Stop. I'll pay. I'll pay."

  I knew you'd eventually see the error of your ways," Alex grinned engagingly. "For your forfeit, my prisoner," he mocked regally, "you must name your baby after me."

  "Sasha," Zena wailed. "Not Alexander Alexandraevich. It's too long."

  "No, not Alexander, Apollo—for my great beauty." He gave her an innocent smile.

  "Such modesty," Zena chided.

  "Don't blame me," Alex abjured laughingly, "blame my mother. She always told me I was beautiful."

  "And you believed her," Zena jibed.

  "Well, a few other ladies have, on occasion, agreed with my mother's assessment," he drawled, a warm golden glow flashing in his mocking eyes. "The selfsame aristocratic ladies, alas." His eyelids drooped in feigned apology.

  Blue eyes deepened into turbulent violet sparks of vexation. Only lightning-fast reflexes saved Alex as he snapped back out of range of one very dangerous knee.

  Leaning back on his haunches at the end of the bed, he laughed joyfully. "It's a frightful cliché, but has anyone ever told you you're beautiful when you're angry? Seriously, dear, I surrender," he offered gallantly. "Forgive the teasing. Name the child anything you wish, of course. You are, sweet pet, the joy of my life."

  Zena capitulated to the blissful delight of such a charming avowal. She gave a quiet sigh as she looked at him. He was so sweet, so beautiful, so intensely alive. "I love you, Sasha," she whispered, holding out her arms.

  He had never been subjected to such an overwhelming look of adoring love, and it made him uncomfortable. "And I am going to keep you always," Alex replied lightly and evasively as he swept her into his arms.

  7

  One morning several days later Alex, Zena, and Bobby were enjoying breakfast on the terrace. The view of the mountains was spectacular from their vantage point, and another beautiful day seemed promised as their second week at the villa drew to a close.

  Zena was applying plum jam to Bobby's toast when her eyes caught a flash of motion over the blade of the poised knife.

  The dark speck that had arrested her eye at the extreme end of the vista of garden before them was soon followed by another flicker of movement.

  Zena nervously clutched at Alex's arm as he lounged in the chair beside her, reading the paper.

  He looked up mildly.

  "Sasha! Look!" she whispered, frightened.

  The two initial dark flashes had now increased to several more while the first two objects had come sufficiently within the range of vision to be plainly identified as two mountain men on horseback.

  They cantered slowly up the straight, smoothly raked gravel path that lay in a direct line with the terrace.

  The cavalcade behind the two leaders swelled into a swarm of horsemen as interminable numbers of warriors sailed over the high wrought-iron fence surrounding the park and then followed the passage of their leaders.

  Alex rose quickly, indignant at the trespassers, walked to the edge of the marble parquet, and waited impatiently.

  Upon reaching the marble pavement of the terrace, the two horses came to a halt. With a brief nod—the mountain men doffed their hats and bowed to no one—one dark, swarthy warrior said, "Prince Alexander Kuzan." It was a statement rather than a question. They knew exactly where they were.

  "Yes?" Alexander glowered.

  "Iskender-Khan requests the honor of your presence at his home. We are to invite his granddaughter and grandson as well.

  "Invite?" Alex inquired sarcastically, his temper rising by the second.

  "The escort is merely to assure your safety in the mountains, Prince Alexander," the leader smoothly dissembled, his face impassive before the glaring, golden fury in Alex's eyes.

  Alex quickly raked his glance over the assemblage of warriors in his park and, calculating swiftly, remarked curtly, "Over one hundred men for escort?"

  Iskender-Khan had but recently learned of his granddaughter's tribulations with the Mingrelian slave traders. Ma'amed had been found and succored by some shepherds who saved his life. When his message was relayed to Iskender-Khan, a party was sent south to find her, and the trail eventually led to Kislovodsk.

  "Our chief is most anxious to make your acquaintance and also to meet his granddaughter and grandson. The bodyguard is to see to your safe arrival."

  "If I refuse?" The question was sharp.

  "We are to renew the invitation," the warrior said firmly.

  Zena had come to listen to the exchange while Bobby stood awed by the magnificent troop of mountain knights armed with kinjals and long-barreled, silver mounted pistols thrust into silver belts, their rifles slung on their backs.

  "Sasha, he's my grandfather. It can't hurt to accept his hospitality."

  "I don't like the coercion," Alex muttered.

  "Maybe an escort troop like this is normal," Zena temporized.

  "Like hell," Alex snarled. "Not that there's a great deal of choice, it appears." The old man had seen to it that his "invitation" would be accepted. Alex was reckless, but not a fool. He'd go. "I'll be bringing some of my men along," Alex informed the leader.

  "Of course, Prince Alexander, bring as many of your household as you wish. We have a litter for Iskender-Khan's granddaughter."

  "I'd rather ride," Zena protested mildly.

  "Iskender-Khan prefers you travel in the litter, mademoiselle" the leader stated resolutely. They too had seen the tracks etched in the blue-gray clay of the distant mountain valley.

  "Very well." She turned to Alex and shrugged her shoulders.

  Two hours later the cavalcade proceeded slowly through Kislovodsk, and soon the gradual ascent into the mountains began. Even accounting for shortcuts unknown to Europeans, the passage through
the mountains to Iskender-Khan's aul required seven days.

  8

  The fortress aul of Iskender-Khan overlooked a large valley through which a mountain torrent ran. The floor of the vale was planted in fields of maize and prosperous orchards of apricot and pear, while the shallow basin was bounded by a range of low hills covered with a profusion of lush, verdant grass, on which herds of horses, cattle, and sheep were grazing.

  At the far end of the wide gorge atop a severe climb lay the aul, a formidable fortress village dominated by a great square tower.

  Beyond the village the snowy peak of the Shalbuz Dagh could be seen towering up grandly to the south. The horizon wherever one turned was bounded by an unbroken chain of pale, whitish mountains that looked very imposing, presenting a barrier to the world outside.

  After slowly ascending the sheer path, the cavalcade rode through the village streets bustling with people who quietly viewed the visitors. Arriving at last before a large villa, the chief Iskender-Khan made his appearance. There was no doubt as to his identity. He was a tall, elegantly dressed, imposing man flanked by two lieutenants equally richly attired in gold, lace-trimmed tcherknesses and beautiful embroidered boots. Although past his middle years, as evidenced by his neatly trimmed gray beard, he was a well-built, vigorous-looking man.

  As head of his clan he made the party welcome with

  proud courtesy. He warmly embraced Zena and Bobby, bidding everyone enter his humble dwelling for refreshments. Personally escorting Zena and Bobby to their rooms, he spent some time in conversation with them, while Alex was shown to his own room and given time to bathe and rest from the journey.

  The villa was magnificent, the rooms carpeted with exquisite, colorful rugs and lined with dazzling cascades of brilliantly patterned silk.