Seized by Love

by Susan Johnson

  Nikki didn’t deign to respond.

  “I advise you, Nikolai,” his father continued, unperturbed, “that I would be pleased if you did not amuse yourself with Sophie again. Although I’m certainly worldly enough to understand that faithfulness is not a necessity in every marriage, indeed in few, apparently, may I remind you that Sophie is brazen enough to possibly cause public embarrassment to Alisa.”

  “Sophie’s not one to be easily put off, Father.”

  “I wish you to make the effort. She is a decadent slut at all accounts; une femme facile, in contrast to Sophie, takes on the aura of saintliness.”

  “You speak from experience, no doubt?” Nikki’s eyebrows rose as he flashed his father a questioning glance.

  “Naturally.” The Prince didn’t lower his gaze.

  In spite of himself, Nikki grinned. “I’ll be damned! You must admit, sire, she is nonpareil in her bawdy role. A damned fine cunt.”

  “I am relieved to learn,” the old Prince said mildly, “that your heart is not involved.”

  Nikki laughed harshly, raised a lazy eyebrow, and commented rather caustically, “Hearts are not in Sophie’s style, mon père, only stiff cocks.”

  Blandly ignoring this vulgarity, Prince Mikhail tranquilly resumed his lecture. “Your mother and I will retire to the country immediately after the festivities. Take care for the mother of my grandchild.” His voice was all the more deadly for not bearing the slightest trace of emotion.

  “While I’m all for family, Father, I fear I don’t have the dynastic instinct as strongly as you,” Nikki replied with a quiet contempt.

  “I don’t need your impertinence,” Prince Mikhail said in that same chilling murmur. “Simply do as you’re told and reflect on the consequences of my wrath if you don’t.”

  He waited patiently for ten seconds, and upon receiving no answer, rose from his chair, saying, “Please be on time at the chapel; we are curtailing the service in order to alleviate any unnecessary standing for Alisa.” He walked from the room, leaving Nikki slumped in his chair.

  Nikki sat there for almost half an hour, his mind blank of any thoughts or emotions, his body fatigued from the long night of drinking. Hauling himself to his feet, he retraced his steps to his room and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. The next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake. His bath had been prepared and all his silk finery spread out ready for dressing.

  Within the hour Nikki was traversing the numerous hallways and passageways that led to the family chapel. His cousin Aleksei and Aleksei’s brother were standing as witness for him and followed closely on his heels as he strode rapidly and mindlessly to his wedding. The chapel was small, holding no more than two hundred persons. When Nikki entered the gilded and stuccoed room flooded with the flickering light of thousands of candles and perfumed with the scent of tens of thousands of flowers, a sigh broke from the assembled guests. He was fifteen minutes late.

  Nikki strolled across the front of the chapel and took his place under a large canopy of trelliswork interwoven with orchids. That moment Alisa reached the main door and began to walk down the aisle. A beautiful chant began.

  She was breathtakingly flawless in a crème-colored silk overlaid with deep flounces of magnificent lace, her pregnancy perfectly concealed beneath the current fashionable tunic which draped yards of material gracefully across the skirt front and pulled it all in successive folds to the back of the waistline. The increasing waistline, which had been the despair of Madame Vevay, was hardly evident to anyone who had not known Alisa’s original lithe slenderness. A small tiara of diamonds set with cameos (a gift from Prince Mikhail) crowned her red-gold coiffure and held in place the yards-long hand-made lace veil, valued at one thousand roubles an arshin. The veil was of the most exquisite texture, the design of roses and lilies so truthfully wrought that the flowers seemed raised from the surface. Full twenty feet trailed gracefully behind. A pendant necklace of emeralds from Nikki was around her neck, and Aleksei’s gift of diamond earrings hung from her ears.

  Nikki caught his breath and paused to absorb her beauty, then stepped forward boldly and took her hand in his, drawing a quiet, subdued bride to his side. They both stood on a strip of satin and were given a lighted candle to hold, which they retained throughout the service. The priests wore dark blue velvet, much embroidered in silver, and began reading the ceremony.

  Nikki and Alisa both put rings on their right hands, a glass of wine was given them, out of which they both drank in turns three times, the priest holding it. Then elaborate golden crowns were brought in, which the officiating priests waved before them and which were then held over their heads by the best man, who became very tired and had to change arms. The priest began to deliver a long and beautiful recitative portion of the service in a magnificent bass voice, but abruptly cut the anthem short after a meaningful curt nod from Prince Mikhail. Nikki’s father had been keenly observing Alisa, and noted a slight pallor beginning to appear.

  The ceremony was blessedly abbreviated, and after intoning the benediction, the deep voice of the Russian Orthodox priest pronounced them married before the eyes of God.

  Alisa clung to Nikki’s arm as they passed from the chapel, feeling faint from the closeness of the small room filled with people and heavy with the sweet odor of flowers and incense. Nikki hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words with Alisa in the past two days, for despite his attempt to graciously accept the imperious commands of his father, a nagging anger consumed his thoughts.

  Rationally, Nikki realized that Alisa was just as much a victim of this farce as he, perhaps more, because she was burdened with an unborn child. But judiciousness wasn’t holding sway in his emotions lately, and he quite unjustifiably and irrationally blamed Alisa for his predicament.

  “Chin up, my dear,” Nikki whispered sarcastically as he pulled Alisa’s trembling body up with a tight grasp under her arm. “You wouldn’t want to faint before all these pantingly inquisitive guests.”

  “I wouldn’t feel like fainting now if you could learn to keep your pants buttoned up,” she hissed petulantly as Nikki single-handedly held her upright and guided her out into the hall.

  “Remember the old proverb, my love. A dog doesn’t worry an unwilling bitch,” he retorted ignobly, and Alisa blanched visibly at the bitterly insulting remark.

  Now she did look ready to faint. Quickly, Nikki slipped his arm under her knees, picked her up, walked rapidly to a curving staircase, and ran up a flight of stairs. Once out of sight of the hundreds of guests, he continued more slowly to Alisa’s room, the long train and veil billowing behind them. She rested gratefully against Nikki’s black silk lapels.

  Discordant emotions raced through both their minds. Nikki wanted her and didn’t want her, afraid of permanence, while Alisa wanted him at all cost and deplored her submission and bondage. But she was mostly aware of a desperate fatigue; she was tired of parrying Nikki’s acid remarks or frigid indifference, and she was too weary to fence off any more verbal ripostes. Her sensibilities were bludgeoned, her nerves frayed. Nothing mattered anymore. She was beyond hostility, beyond apology, beyond caring for pride. She was in his arms, comforted by his strong embrace. It was the only place she longed to be.

  Walking into her room, Nikki laid her on the bed, strode into his chamber next door, and returned within seconds with a bottle of brandy and two glasses. Quickly pouring Alisa a glass, he plumped up the pillows behind her, arranged her unprotesting form in a half-reclining position, and handed over the glass.

  Pulling up a chair near the bed, Nikki sat down with the bottle and the other glass, poured himself a full bumper, put his long legs up on the satin counterpane, and said mockingly in his casual drawl, “Shall we both sheath our talons and attempt to amiably muddle through this charade. It seems you are mine now for the rest of our lives, and one must survive, after all. To our future, dear. Do you think we have one?” he jibed in a soft murmur, noting the still-pallid color of Alisa’s complexion.

>   “Am I supposed to beg for your favors?” Her voice was scarcely audible. “I won’t, Nikki—so the future is in your hands.”

  His golden eyes held hers, for a long moment and then instead of answering, he casually said, “You’d better drink your brandy quickly, or you won’t last many minutes more, my dear. You look quite pale.” Lifting his glass in salute, Nikki drained it in one swallow. Over the rim of the glass he held her eyes for another long, speculative moment, his glance cool, measured, unreadable. Alisa found she could not look away, transfixed by the depths of those golden eyes. Was it possible she’d discerned an unease registered briefly? The expression closed abruptly, his eyelids fell, his hand reaching out to refill his empty glass. The moment was over.

  “Come now,” he insisted half kindly in his natural lazy tone, “you must summon the necessary energy to withstand the lengthy receiving line of our well-wishers.”

  Obediently Alisa drank slowly; the liquor burned down her throat and coursed through her bloodstream, soon reviving her failing senses.

  With an amiable courtesy Nikki entertained Alisa quite cheerfully for the next twenty minutes, single-handedly emptying two-thirds of the bottle while Alisa’s color returned. Alisa glanced at Nikki, comfortably sprawled in his chair, and smiled faintly. “You’re appearing less irate about this marriage.”

  “Alisa, my sweet, I’m becoming more reconciled to the prospect by the moment.” The brandy and Alisa’s serenity had improved his humor.

  They were interrupted just as Nikki was about to kick off his shoes, thinking, to hell with the guests. Alisa looked so radiantly lovely, perhaps they should start the honeymoon immediately. His irritations could seldom withstand the dual pressures of plentiful liquor and a languorous female within reach in bed.

  Princess Kaisa-leena opened the door, and stepping half-way over the threshold, inquired solicitously, “Do you feel well enough to come down? The guests are impatient to toast the bride and groom.”

  Nikki smothered a curse in deference to his mother and dropped his patent-leather-clad feet to the floor. He extended his hand to Alisa. “Shall we, my dear?” he inquired pleasantly.

  Alisa and Nikki stood in the receiving line next to Prince Mikhail and Princess Kaisa-leena for over an hour, greeting the guests to the accompaniment of the mechanical phrases necessary to the occasion—“Enchantée,” “So nice to meet you,” “Thank you so much.”

  Several grand dukes of both generations attended, and after watching Alisa sink into a deep curtsey for a second grand duke, Nikki satirically murmured, “You won’t be able to curtsey that low much longer, my blooming young wife; your belly will get in the way.”

  Alisa cast him a wrathful look of indignation, and Nikki smothered a chuckle as he turned to greet yet another distinguished guest. Several moments later Major Cernov paused before them and, taking Alisa’s hand in his, raised it to his lips. He held it for a moment longer than necessary while he murmured suggestively, “You’re more lovely each time I see you, Madame.”

  “You honor me with the compliment, Monsieur,” Alisa replied flirtatiously, paying Nikki back for his mockery, while Nikki stood at her side, wondering what would happen if he smashed Cernov square in the mouth. He restrained the urge, for that would be a ripe piece of gossip indeed, the bridegroom fighting a rival at his wedding.

  Abruptly Nikki turned to his parents and said, “We are done with these civilities. If anyone else wants to congratulate us, they can put it in writing. Come, my dear, you look fatigued.” Gripping Alisa’s elbow, he drew her to him, reestablishing possession, and whisked her away to a quiet alcove, where he snapped his fingers for a footman carrying a tray of champagne glasses.

  “Put the tray down,” Nikki said, and motioned at the table beside the sofa. Quite oblivious of his responsibilities to his guests, Nikolai Kuzan proceeded to empty the contents of the glasses while he grimly clasped Alisa’s hand as she sat next to him on the green satin upholstery. He burned with jealousy at Cernov’s remark and swore aloud several times between draining glasses while he dwelt on the gall of his old friend. Damn his impudence! Alisa enjoyed this indication of jealousy after having endured Nikki’s bland indifference for so many days.

  With his usual disregard for the courtesies of society, just as the dinner guests were filing into the supper room for the magnificent array of dishes produced by the Kuzan chef, Nikki pulled Alisa to her feet and pushed her ahead of him through the throng of well-wishers and up the stairs to the nuptial bed.

  Quite foxed by this time, Nikki couldn’t decide which bed to use for this momentous occasion—the termination of his bachelorhood and the beginning of his husbandly duties. Should he use the bed in his room or the one in Alisa’s? Solving the dilemma by deciding to take turns in both, he hastily disrobed himself, pulled off Alisa’s voluminous gown, and eased off her petticoats as she giggled from the several glasses of champagne he’d pressed on her.

  Picking Alisa up, they collapsed on the bed, kissing and laughing. Then he kissed her long and carefully, fondling her ripe body until she trembled beneath him, threw her arms around his neck, and eased herself beneath his throbbing stiffness, entering into the spirited loveplay with abandon. They were always in amorous accord regardless of their other differences and it was no sense of husbandly duty or adherence to his father’s admonitions that kept Nikki near his wife all night.

  The following morning, Prince Mikhail and Princess Kaisa-leena took their leave for Le Repose amid kisses and hugs, exclamations of fondness and kind good wishes, with the exception of Nikki and his father, who stiffly and formally bade good-bye to each other, the strain in their relationship painfully clear.

  As his carriage passed through the dusty streets of the city, Prince Mikhail relaxed his stern, forbidding expression, reached over, clasped the small hand of his wife sitting beside him, and said wearily, “I hope I’ve done right by that young woman. Have I been too harsh to insist on their marriage?”

  “No, Misha, our son resists the fact that he loves her; he’ll come to accept it someday, and Alisa loves Nikki, of that I’m sure. It’s important for the coming child to have both a mother and a father. Don’t despair, all will be well,” she said quietly, and patted his large, strong hand. Silently she whispered a Tzigane charm for the happiness of the union, for she knew how unyielding, independent, and demanding Nikki could be. Like his father.

  “I won’t interfere again,” the Prince sighed unhappily. “Perhaps if left alone, they’ll build a life together for our future grandchild.” Secretly he was not very hopeful, but at least the child would have a name, and the vast assets and resources of the Kuzan family as its patrimony. Money couldn’t buy happiness, but at least it offered luxury in one’s despair, the old prince reflected cynically.

  Before many weeks had passed in the pink marble palace on the Millionnaya, Nikki began to fall into his old habits. At first he had grudgingly but dutifully run the rounds of parties, drums, balls, and picnics with Alisa, but always bored, indifferent, and obviously discontent as he either stood on the sidelines, drinking and watching Alisa, or else disappeared into the card room for hours. In less than a month he no longer made an attempt to hide the fact that he found these functions intolerable.

  Aleksei had more and more taken his place as escort, and lately almost exclusively squired Alisa to the festivities she chose to attend. Aleksei adored Alisa with the dogged infatuation of youth and was ever ready and eager to indulge her whims. Alisa appreciated Aleksei’s youthful spirits and candor and thanked him with heartfelt sincerity for being a companion to her. His was a friendship she valued all the more as Nikki’s interests drifted away to other pursuits.

  Aleksei raged inwardly at the callous indifference and discourteous treatment Nikki gave his wife, but kept his indignant thoughts to himself. A verbal brawl with Nikki would accomplish nothing for Alisa’s happiness, and in the cool tenor of Nikki’s current mood, he didn’t want to risk being forbidden the freedom of the hou
se and Alisa’s company. The young man fretted but held his tongue.

  Soon Nikki began staying away from home nights, comfortably easing back into the habits of twenty years. Alisa sobbed in sorrow and rage the first time it happened. The pain Nikki saw in her face forced him to hurl back at her with a suppressed ferocity, “Damn you, stop whining! You knew what I was like when you married me! Did you not?” And then his voice dropped to a chilling murmur. “My whoring and drinking were well known to you, Madame, before you chose to become my mistress and then my wife. Surely it’s not a shock to your delicate sensibilities. Do not, at this late date, become full of nonsense about honorable and virtuous conduct. You were hardly a model of propriety yourself.”

  “You need not insult me,” Alisa whispered unhappily.

  “By God, a femme facile can be insulted now,” he said, wishing to hurt. “What next? Rockets to the moon, no doubt.”

  “But”—his eyes narrowed dangerously—“do not consider flirtations, Madame, or that you have a freedom of—hmm—shall we say—outside friendships. I’ve warned you in that respect. No man touches my wife. Whatever children are born of this marriage will be Kuzan by parentage as well as by name. And I would appreciate, Madame, in the future, if you would have the goodness to refrain from concerning yourself in my affairs.”

  Alisa cried in private at Nikki’s casual freedom, but if she sometimes renewed that line of conversation, he simply walked away, so as the weeks progressed, she accepted his behavior because she had no other choice. But she wanted to scream, Go away! Go away! If you don’t care for me, go away! Why should she be forced to suffer his reluctant forbearance as life companion. But the growing child, now kicking in her womb, the need for some security in a thoroughly male-dominated world, required that she accept the grudgingly offered hand.