Seized by Love by Susan Johnson Read Free Book Online Page A

and if you're not here, the stroll over will, at least, be
a pleasant occupation of my time." He smiled faintly. "Charmed to
make your acquaintance, Mrs. Forseus. Good day."
    "Good day to you,
Monsieur," she quietly replied.
    And bowing courteously, he
strode slowly away.
    Alisa was left with
multitudinous and conflicting emotions waging war in her mind, a sweet confusion
holding sway. He was so handsome, faintly foreign- and exotic-looking. Alisa
couldn't drag her memory from the strikingly attractive maleness he exuded.
Prince Kuzan was also enchanting company (of course, since Nikki was out to
ingratiate himself), so kind to her and wholly conversant in the new art
movements, a topic of infinite delight to one who could keep abreast of the new
currents only by irregular periodicals that might find their way to Vüpuri.
Alisa didn't allow herself to dwell on his handsome attractiveness. In the six
years since she had been forced into marriage with the sixty-one-year-old
Forseus, no man had ever treated her gently. The entire encounter that
afternoon was bewildering and left her unusually agitated. She couldn't
concentrate on her painting anymore. All thought of color and form had left her
mind. She knew she wanted to meet Prince Kuzan tomorrow. But dared she follow
her own warm feelings of pleasure he engendered within her this afternoon? If
her husband had been home, she would have had no choice. But he wasn't, and
these few days of freedom from his tyranny had brought a Prince into her life.
    Alisa gathered her supplies
and walked home slowly, lost in tumultuous thought, hugging each enchanting
memory of the Prince to herself. Arriving home, she devoted herself to her
five-year-old daughter, Katelina, who had just awakened from her afternoon nap,
and in entertaining her child endeavored to push aside the distracting,
disturbing thoughts of Prince Kuzan.
    When Nikki returned to the
lodge, he was greeted with rapid-fire, coarse, and teasing questions from the
importunately inquisitive, now slightly drunken Cernov and Illy- ich.
    "Well, how is the bull
of Petersburg doing with Forseus's ice maiden?" Illyich laughed
uproariously, more amused than ever at his choice of prey. He felt quite
certain of collecting his winnings.
    Cernov slyly added, "I
see your clothes are as unruffled and immaculate as ever. Didn't get to her
this afternoon, eh, Nikki? Losing your touch?"
    Nikki good-naturedly
accepted the crude jesting interspersed with much helpful and extremely graphic
advice.
    He was eminently familiar
with barracks humor and also entirely satisfied with the course of the
afternoon's efforts. He looked forward eagerly to a leisurely, unhurried
seduction; the victory would be sweet.
    "My friends,"
Nikki explained with a patient forbearance, "Mrs. Forseus is not a common
slut. She is, surprisingly, in spite of having married that peasant-mer-chant
Forseus, of gentle birth and upbringing. She's also a lovely, skitterish young
filly unused to the bridle, so I must gentle her slowly before she'll be tame
enough to ride. Today was not entirely unsuccessful, so don't count your
winnings yet, Illyich."
    Nikki had been unprepared
to find Alisa so well-bred. Her French was fluent and without accent. She
wasn't a peasant after all, although Nikki had no scruples or class
distinctions when it came to taking his pleasure. His sexual diversions were
international, interdenominational, non-ideological, entered into with a true
and open spirit of brotherhood.
    That evening Nikki remained
aloof from the ordinary orgy of drinking, dancing, and whoring. With barely
tolerant amusement and ultimately total indifference he watched the drunken
antics of his friends. Finally, to the astonishment of the servants, for the
first time in years he retired alone to bed at the relatively early hour of one
o'clock. He was even sober. Now they were worried. Was the master ill?
    For all his drunken
wildness and eccentric behavior, Nikki had an old-fashioned