Seized by Love

by Susan Johnson

  He’d given her so much, though, his time, affectionate attention to Katelina, gifts beyond belief, tenderness in making love. Wasn’t that enough? Must she chain his independence as well? Was she asking for more than he could give? Maybe it was enough that he wanted her passion.

  Then her voice of reason would whisper devilishly. Had she no sense? Had she no pride? To which she confessed, sadly—no. With Nikki she had no pride.

  And what good was pride if she lost Nikki? she asked herself with a brutal honesty. She loved him.

  She realized as the early glow of morning touched the room that she wanted Nikki unconditionally, on any terms he chose. A restless sleep finally overcame her tortured thoughts and she dreamed of demons tearing her away from Nikki’s arms, of dark wastes and lonely vistas in which she sat desolately alone. Full daylight brought relief from the nightmares, if not the anxiety, prompting them.

  Alisa rose just as the sun crept around the linen draperies, determined to keep Nikki there if she could. Standing before the wash stand, she deliberately banged and clanked the china pitcher and basin in the spurious act of washing.

  When Nikki’s easy breathing changed from sleep to wakefulness, she wiped her hands, slowly raised her gown, and seductively stripped it from her body, lifting her arms high above her head and stretching languorously like a cat waking in the sun. The early morning rays shining through the coarse linen draperies bathed her body in a soft, golden, iridescent glow.

  Nikki, watching, thought her, in that pose, as beautiful as Rosso’s nymphs in the Gallery at Fontainebleau. Lithe, sensual, the sun gilded her soft curves of breast and hip and thigh, warmed the pure white flesh, accentuated the bloom of womanhood. By God, she was deliberately seducing him, he realized, and he willed himself to resist the provocation.

  “It won’t work,” he said evenly, the simple statement dropping ominously in the quiet room. “I’m leaving this morning.” He paused briefly, running his eyes boldly over her luxuriant curves. “And I don’t like you performing like a whore,” he finished coldly.

  Hands on her hips, lips petulantly pursed, Alisa murmured softly as her violet eyes held his, “You’re always telling me I must learn to accept my passions, my sexuality. I’m simply taking your advice,” she said softly, advancing toward the bed, slowly melting over his supine form and kissing him lingeringly, searingly, on his lips, brushing her hand against his stiffening prick, caressing his powerful muscular chest with light fingertips.

  “Take me one last time before you go. I’ll leave you something to remember me by,” she breathed, the soft words tantalizing.

  Nikki strangled a curse, inveighing his faltering will-power but losing his fight against Alisa’s passionate lips. She bent her head low, gentle lips touched the engorged red head, a moist tongue drew him into her, and all resistance ended.

  He groaned and gathered her up into his arms. “Come here. My leave-taking can wait,” he whispered hoarsely. And Alisa clasped Nikki to her with a frenzy of hope and desire, withheld nothing, giving her love with a wild, reckless abandon, wanting him to stay with her, wanting to make him need her as much as she needed him. For the first time, their mating was a complete union of two hearts, two spirits, two passions, their yearning for each other totally fulfilled.

  She drew him deeper and deeper into her as if she could hold him to her forever, chaining him to her with bonds of warm flesh. He brought her to climax after climax, marveling at the ardor she contained; the final relinquishing of her heart as well as her body reflected in the intensity of her passion. During her convulsions, he lay rigidly still inside her, affording her the maximum of pleasure, letting her feel the full impact as each trembling wave washed over her. Finally he could no longer hold himself back and poured himself, shuddering, into her, his heart pulsing violently. In that final moment he experienced a feeling of contentment and blazing sensation beyond his wildest memories of pleasure.

  He kissed Alisa tenderly, pushed her tousled red-gold curls back from her forehead, gently cradled her in his arms. The scent of mating hung heavy in the room.

  Quiet tears filled her eyes and lashes.

  “Don’t cry, Alisa lemmikki, I won’t leave you,” he promised softly.

  She smiled faintly and brushed his lips, so close to hers, with her fingertips. “Thank you,” she murmured as her tears overflowed, and she cried for herself, for her enslavement to this man. She would do anything to lie with him, to have him near her, and she cried for the loss of her will.

  Nikki was all gentle kindness. She was his now, completely, wholeheartedly. He was joyfully triumphant. He sent for breakfast and her trunks of clothes. Her imprisonment was over.

  After they dressed and breakfasted, Nikki had a swing hung under the rose arbor near the house so Alisa could sit in the warm sun and watch Katelina go through her paces with the pony on the large lawn.

  Katelina jogged along happily on the small pony as Nikki spoke encouragingly to her, prompting her to hold her hands lightly, to remember her seat, to keep her elbows in. The tousle-haired youngster successfully followed all his instructions letter-perfectly.

  Nikki adored Katelina in a casual way. He’d provided money for Katelina’s lifetime with his usual careless liberality, an act that served also as a sop to silence his conscience which chided him to provide some measure of permanence in Katelina’s life. Insistent, nagging remonstrances that urged him to commit himself legally to his lovely mistress, the expectant mother of his child.

  Mother and “Uncle” applauded loudly as Katelina’s mischievous face lit into a beaming smile of joyous glee when she completed the circuit of the lawn in fine form.

  “Mother dear,” Nikki murmured as he sat next to Alisa on the wide swing, “Katelina is charming,” he said with pride. “If your second child is as delightful, you will have doubled my pleasure.”

  Alisa’s heart melted at his whispered affection. He cared for her and Katelina and for his yet-unborn child. He made no promises, never even in the height of his lovemaking did he tell her he loved her, offered her no future, only a passionate present. But he did care and she clung to this small compensation for her surrender.

  “And I intend to keep you pregnant, at my side, populating this glorious wilderness,” Nikki whispered playfully. As he realized what he’d just said, a new unfathomable sense of the future with Alisa struck his consciousness. He immediately rose and paced beside the swing so she couldn’t see his face, so false hopes wouldn’t be raised within her heart. Resolutely he sought to shake off the unfamiliar feeling. He struggled for control. Mon Dieu, it would never do, this giving way to emotion.

  How did he care for her (he dared not use the word “love”)? Love was anathema to him. He reveled in his independence, fiercely clung to his singular existence. It suited him to bow to no one, man or god, and certainly never to humble oneself for a woman, never again. He wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on these unfamiliar sensations Alisa stirred in him. He’d not permit a woman to breach his inner private citadel again, although the storming was exquisitely accomplished with soft words, soft lips, and soft thighs.

  She pleased him, that was all, so he would keep her, but only until such a time as she no longer pleased him.

  “You think of me only as a brood mare,” Alisa pouted prettily. Now that their war was over, she enjoyed being openly flirtatious, seductively suggestive. “You’re imperious and peremptory to even suggest such a thing as keeping me pregnant.”

  “But not excessively repugnant, for all that.” His eyes twinkled a little as he stopped pacing and joined her at the swing.

  “No, not completely, my lord,” she posed demurely.

  Nikki smiled lightly at the soft mouth fixed in a pretty moue, delighted with her attempt to gratify his wishes, to appeal to his stated preference for a soft passivity in a woman.

  “Not only as a brood mare, love; you enchant me in a variety of ways, but, I’ll admit, the thought of you nurturing my child within your body war
ms me with a pleasant conceit.” He bent low over her to place the palm of his hand against her rounded, swelling form. His child.

  Katelina was squealing for Nikki’s attention, and he rose to stroll over to the insistent little girl on her pony. He spoke a few words to her and walked back to Alisa while Katelina kicked her chubby legs into the pony’s ribs in an effort to make the animal move. At the moment, the pony was more interested in cropping the daylilies and Siberian wallflowers on the edge of the flower beds.

  Nikki glanced in Katelina’s direction as he stood near Alisa. “I promised Katelina I’d take her squirrel hunting this afternoon, and she’s holding me to the promise. Will you be all right alone for a few hours? I reluctantly leave you, but must honor my word to that persistent little brat.” He grinned. “And I won’t ask you along, for I don’t want you riding. You must be very careful of our child. Shall I call Rakeli or Maria for companionship while we’re absent?”

  “No, I’ll be perfectly fine alone. Perhaps I’ll stroll down to the lake. The only glimpse I’ve had of it until today has been through the bedroom windows.” She smiled mischievously through half-lowered lashes.

  “Sorry for my damnable temper, love. I’ll endeavor to bridle it in the future. The entire estate is at your disposal”—he indicated with a sweeping wave of his arm—“but don’t wander too far into the forest. You might become lost.”

  “I won’t, Nikki.”

  “Now, you’re sure you’ll be all right alone?” he asked anxiously as he bent to kiss her.

  “Of course, dear, and don’t shoot too many poor squirrels.”

  “No, we won’t be gone that long. Au revoir.” He blew her a kiss as he strode away, extricated the pony and rider from the flower bed, and disappeared around the corner of the West Wing, heading toward the stable block.

  Alisa sat on the swing for a short time after the hunting party left. It consisted of Nikki, Katelina, Arni, Yukko, and three trackers. The sun was comfortably warm, and Alisa daydreamed blissfully. She walked around the flower gardens, beautifully cared for by an army of gardeners, then moved in the direction of the lake. On reaching the sandy shore, she strolled along the soft white sand of the bay that swung away in an easterly direction from Mon Plaisir. Within minutes the house disappeared from sight behind the tall, dark pine trees lining the shore. Alisa stooped occasionally to select a small, flat piece of shale and skipped the rocks across the luminous sparkling water. She walked for some ten minutes, careless of her distance from the house because there was no chance of becoming lost out in the open of the lake shore.

  Finding a large, flat boulder, Alisa sat on its broad expanse and gazed out on the lake, knees drawn up under her chin, arms clasping her legs, letting the lassitude of the warm sun and light lake breeze bathe her; contentment filled her soul.

  Hearing an unexpected sound behind her, she whirled around.

  Valdemar Forseus was standing five feet away, his small, deep-set eyes peering with a dangerous mockery at the terrified face of his young wife. She froze in horror at the sight of those fanatically piercing eyes.

  “So, Mrs. Forseus, you have led me a merry chase,” he breathed softly. “We were beginning to despair of ever seeing you outside the house. That whoremonger of a Prince guards you well. But, alas,” he sighed, a sinister smile playing across his grotesque face, “not well enough. And, of course, I’m a patient man.”

  A rapid flash of his arm and two gigantic men appeared out of the trees and strode swiftly to his side. “My trackers,” he conversationally remarked, “my sweet young wife. Men, the object of this long and diligent quest,” he politely introduced them, his wrath barely concealed beneath his rigidly controlled demeanor.

  Alisa was dumb with alarm as wave after wave of silent terror flooded her consciousness. Why had she wandered so far from the house? Why had she so stupidly assumed Forseus would accept her flight from him? God, where was Nikki? She began to tremble in the sure knowledge that Forseus would kill her, certainly if not now, later, after he’d used her to suit his devilish will. He was insane, sadistically taking delight in causing pain. God, Nikki, help me, she sent up a silent plea, her nerves stretched taut in panic. Flashing, blinding spots of light suddenly danced before her eyes and oblivion took pity.

  She crumpled in a swoon at the feet of the three men.

  “Pick her up,” Forseus ordered sharply. “We must make haste.”

  One tracker effortlessly lifted her body and the three men walked back to their horses tethered in the pines. The men mounted, Alisa was settled across one man’s chest, and the party spurred their horses. Once back on the road, neither quirt nor rowel was spared as the riders furiously pressed their horses south.

  Mercifully, Alisa remained in a faint for several hours, the agonizing terror of Forseus’s proximity locked outside of her conscious mind.

  She regained consciousness in the late afternoon when they were forced to stop to change horses. They mounted her on a small bay, her hands tied to the saddle pommel. Forseus spoke scarcely more than three words to her, carefully restraining his anger in front of the two trackers. To bring back a runaway wife was legal enough; he could expect their help, but even these primitive men wouldn’t accept the punishment he was going to inflict on his contrary wife once he had returned her home.

  “You will rot in hell, Jezebel, and your carnal urges will be punished as you deserve,” he whispered evilly that evening as they stopped briefly to water their horses at a stream. “I hope you last long enough. I wouldn’t want my pleasure curtailed.” As if to prove his point, he cruelly tightened the cinch on his horse’s saddle and heaved his great bulk back onto his mount.

  Alisa trembled involuntarily, prayed for courage and strength to sustain her. The full horror of her capture was beginning to overwhelm her. And although she told herself sharply to remain calm, her panic was reaching nightmare proportions.

  • • •

  The squirrel hunt lasted longer than anticipated, since Katelina was enjoying the excursion. Shadows of twilight were slowly creeping in from the forest as the small group rode back into the stable yard, a tired but satisfied little five-year-old nestled in Nikki’s arms.

  Walking into the large hallway carrying the fatigued child, Nikki hallooed for Alisa, cheerfully anticipating a welcoming kiss from his lovely mistress. He handed Katelina over to Rakeli and strode up the broad wooden stairway to the bedroom, so eager to see and hold her, he didn’t even stop to shake the dust from his boots and clothes. This morning had been magnificent. God, she was magnificent; beautiful, sensual, intelligent, and she loved him. His world was near perfection.

  “Alisa!” he called out. “Alisa, we’re back!” Nikki cried as he opened the door into the bedroom, lit now with the last rays of sunset glow. “Katelina is becoming a very excellent rider for—” He paused on the threshold as his eyes swept the room, searching for the familiar form, the auburn hair.

  The room was quiet and empty. The muscles in his jaw tightened. Turning sharply, he retraced his steps down the main staircase, shouting for Alisa. The housekeeper came running from the back hall and explained quickly, “I haven’t seen Madame for hours. She was walking in the garden last I saw her.”

  “You mean you haven’t seen Mrs. Forseus all afternoon?”

  “No, sir, I haven’t,” she answered fearfully, for the Prince was scowling mightily.

  Nikki thanked her gruffly and proceeded out the front door, racing down the entrance steps in three long strides, the tiniest twinge of apprehension beginning to mar his perfect mood. Within seconds he’d turned the corner of the West Wing and peered across the broad flower beds, all gaily blooming, a few bees still busily humming from flower to flower.

  No Alisa.

  A larger fragment of doubt replaced the vague apprehension as he walked purposefully back to the entrance, thundering loudly for the housekeeper. He ran up the stairs. Having heard the roar of Prince Kuzan’s voice in the kitchen, she was at the door to gree
t him.

  “What is it, my lord?”

  “Assemble all the servants—immediately! I can’t find Mrs. Forseus.” Within the minute a glowering Nikki was addressing a long line of maids, gardeners, and footmen.

  “Has anyone seen Mrs. Forseus since I left for my ride?”

  The answers came in a confused babble, but when all were sifted and deciphered, apparently no one had seen Mrs. Forseus since early afternoon, when she was strolling in the yard.

  A fierce rage began to smolder in the quick-tempered Prince. So all the theatrics this morning, the tears and sighs, the loving words, had been just that—theatrics. She had probably coolly plotted the drama and he, driven as usual by his genitals, had fallen for her scheme. How else would she have been released from the prison of the bedroom? Very clever of her; the oldest female ploy, when all else fails, use your body.

  He swore to himself and then aloud as the servants huddled in a group, glancing nervously at their distraught master. There was no more to learn from them, so he curtly dismissed them, charging them to keep out of his way.

  “Yukko, bring me two bottles of brandy,” he demanded, incensed. Nikki stalked off into his study, infuriated at having been deceived by the feigned sincerity of Alisa’s loving scene that morning.

  Damn her, damn her lying heart. He’d drag her back by the hair! He’d beat her! He’d show her not to trifle with him! But even as he stormed and raged, the more pragmatic side of his nature challenged—why bother? Why bring her back? He’d been ready to leave her this morning anyway; the decision had simply been taken out of his hands. Maybe that was what piqued him most. Was his pride pricked because Alisa had chosen to leave him, had taken away his perogative. And he was made to look the fool?