Authors: Susan Johnson
Nikki, too, woke to strong feelings. “
Merde
,” he swore. A seduction in the rain would be troublesome even if she did come out in spite of the wetness. And this was his third and last day to win the wager.
Why was he so eager to make love to Mrs. Forseus? Nikki pondered. He who’d just recently decried the monotony of women. It wasn’t the money from the wager; he hardly
needed it, and to win or lose the bet didn’t signify; on the rare occasions when Nikki lost, he lost as graciously as he won. But he was feeling some strange and remarkable attraction to the chit, an attraction removed from his usual lust. Alisa was virtuous, he reflected; a previously unassailable virtue about to be conquered. That was what was giving him such delicious pleasure.
At noon the sun came out in blazing glory.
Nikki called for his
valet de chambre
, Yukko, and had him fetch the painting. The luncheon basket he had ordered was sent for, and the two men set off toward the rendezvous. Yukko, a friend as well as a servant, having been Nikki’s companion since childhood, was better company than nine-tenths of his betters. And the best knife-thrower he’d ever seen. Nikki good-naturedly accepted the teasing directed toward him.
“Don’t worry, Yukko. I’ll be careful. Just do as I ask. After Mrs. Forseus has had an opportunity to satisfactorily inspect the painting, I’ll give you a discreet nod and you take the painting back to the lodge and leave us alone. Urho informed me yesterday when he was saddling my horse that the old merchant is in Helsinki and isn’t expected back for two weeks; Urho’s sister is a parlor maid at Forseus’s. So you see, I anticipate no angry husbands,” Nikki said as he grinned into Yukko’s widely smiling face.
“In that case, I won’t have to stand guard with my pukko to stave off intruders.”
“No, Yukko, no need this time. Just go back to the lodge when I nod and try a bottle of my new brandy. Ask Aleksei to find you one; he knows where it is.”
Intentionally arriving early once again, Nikki watched as Yukko propped the large canvas against some birch trees, then both men sprawled in the grass, waiting for Mrs. Forseus.
She appeared shortly, slightly breathless, having run the
last quarter verst, fearing she might be too late. In an effort to dissuade herself from meeting Nikolai, she’d postponed her departure until long after Katelina was asleep, and then impetuously decided to go regardless of her fears.
Yukko’s presence was reassuring, and the three sat on the grass, admiring the delicate depiction of a birch grove, like the one surrounding them. Shishkin’s skill at capturing the atmosphere of early morning, his rendering of lacy ferns, the dawn stillness so powerfully evoked on the canvas, were very impressive. Alisa exclaimed in delight, Nikki was courteously agreeable, and Yukko, after a summary glance at the landscape, ignored the painting and chose instead to observe the protagonists in this elaborate courtship dance.
After a reasonable interval, Yukko discreetly rose and left with the painting. Immediately stepping into the breach with the military precision of a trained field officer (to hesitate is to be lost), Nikki smiled warmly and said, “Could I interest you in some of my chef’s concoctions for a
déjeuner sur l’herbe?
” handing Alisa the hamper as he lifted the lid. Any woman would be awed by the sumptuous display arranged in the large basket.
Nikki spread out a damask cloth, crystal, silver, and china while Alisa enthusiastically marveled over the exquisite cold collation; a spiced Cornish hen stuffed with truffles and herbs, pickled artichoke hearts, asparagus vinaigrette, smoked salmon and caviar twirled into delicate pink lily shapes, pâté fluted into a petal-shaped mold, fresh strawberries sprinkled with sugar in a scalloped silver bowl, and pale, golden madeleines artfully arranged in a silver latticework basket. While Alisa set the food before them, Nikki poured champagne into two fine-stemmed goblets.
He handed a glass to Alisa, remarking lightly, “Shall we first drink a toast to the Emperor, since we’re drinking his favorite brand of champagne—Clicquot?”
3
Alisa nodded, wide-eyed.
“To the Emperor,” Nikki toasted, and drained his glass.
“To the Emperor,” Alisa repeated with a timid smile, and took a sip of her champagne.
Le picque-nicque
proceeded gaily, Nikki exerting his considerable charm, with the help of the food, champagne, and improving weather, easily enchanting Alisa, reminding her of all the attractions of the luxurious, entertaining life she’d been removed from for six years.
They chatted cheerfully, laughed at trivialities; he talked to her lightly, fascinating her, hypnotizing her. She listened and responded, heedless of this breach against propriety. She’d been a virtual prisoner of an old and depraved husband for six years, and she was still very young.
And now the joy she’d not allowed herself to hope for came back to her. Alisa delighted in Nikki without reservation, in his burning eyes that held hers, in the caressing compliments he offered her, for the blithe, joyous world he exemplified and that was lost to her forever.
The silly banter stopped abruptly.
A tremulous silence hung between them. Nikki was seated very close to Alisa. He caught her frightened glance and held it.
“No, no,” she whispered in fright and began to get up. Ignoring her words, he reached out, caught her shoulders, and pulled her toward him. He knew she would now either freeze in his arms or respond to him. She half opened her mouth and bent her head back; her breath came unevenly, her body trembled under the pressure of his hands. As he kissed her lips tenderly, her arms lifted around his shoulders, her fingertips brushed the soft hair on his neck, lightly, tentatively; she was quivering like a frightened animal.
Almost immediately the enormity of her acquiescence washed over her, and she attempted to break away.
“Loose me,” she whispered pleadingly. “Loose me,
please,” she cried softly, struggling against his chest, unable to still the wakening desires in her own body.
“No,” he murmured thickly, kissing her. His hand slipped under her knees and he lifted her into his arms. Ignoring her timid protests, he carried her under the trees and there on the soft green moss laid her down and began deftly undressing her, all the while murmuring endearments, kissing her lips, stilling her fears with soft caresses, seducing with exquisite gentleness until she closed her eyes and lay still.
Skillful in the intricacies of hooks, buttons, and laces, he opened her dress and, pushing it off her shoulders, untied the straps of her chemise and kissed her shoulders, tasting the rich perfume of her scent. The smell of a woman always roused him; he loved the fresh sweetness. He was wild with desire yet restrained himself, for she was trembling beneath his touch. After removing her voluminous petticoats, pulling off her dainty kid slippers, garters, and silk stockings, he opened the tapes of her lace-trimmed drawers. Slipping them down her slender hips and well-shaped legs, he pulled them free and tossed them aside. A flood of crimson swept over Alisa’s face as she lay gleaming white before him while his devouring gaze ranged the length of her splendid, opulent beauty.
Nikki bent and kissed her softly, opening her mouth under the pressure of his lips. Then he gently stroked and caressed her, his fingers sliding over her bare thighs toward the very source of pleasure, and with gentle fingers he gained the opening and toyed delightfully with her until she quivered and shuddered beneath his touch. He could feel her quickening under his titillation. Her flesh was delicious to the touch, smooth and soft and warm. Alisa drew a long breath and opened her eyes. Seeing that she didn’t intend to resist him, Nikki kissed her more demandingly. And she turned her face fully toward him and of her own
accord returned his kiss, opened her soft lips to the pressure of his probing tongue and fierce burning kisses.
She sighed a delicious small sound of surrender and he smiled against her mouth, gratified.
Quickly stripping off his clothes, he lay beside her, gathering her warm body in his arms. A shiver ran through Alisa at the contact with his naked skin. Her hands moved down his shoulders, closed around his back, as though she would press herself into him forever.
The tender caresses, his long, lean, manipulating fingers, the lingering kisses, the sweet murmured endearments, had all served their purpose. Nikki gently lifted her legs, without resistance mounted her, and with a few merciless thrusts buried himself inside her incredible warmth. Alisa cried out softly. He was momentarily shocked as he penetrated her, for although obviously aroused, she was tight as a virgin. She would take some patient, gentle stretching for the vigorous lovemaking he was used to, he reflected. Could all the ribald jests and rumors be true? Was her husband, indeed, too old?
“I’m sorry,” Nikki whispered into her tangled hair. “Did I hurt you?” Her eyelids fluttering, her lips parted in breathless desire, Alisa murmured, “No” as she clung to him, her arms laced around his powerful body, her legs twined around his.
Enveloped in her warm, throbbing flesh, he carefully, gently, explored its luscious interior as she stirred restlessly beneath him, the pressure of her hands holding him fiercely tight. With a slow, delicate rhythm he moved in her, adeptly controlling his passion, slowing his exertions to savor the tide of pleasure, intent on further rousing Alisa’s senses, deliberately compelling her to need him, compelling her to respond to the exquisite sensual pleasure he was intensifying with each deep, plunging stroke. He was in no hurry now, wisely delaying the climax, enjoying each wave
of delight, penetrating and withdrawing with tantalizing slowness.
Soon the last vestiges of Alisa’s guilt and fear were swept away before the fury of the untrammeled passion Nikki had adroitly provoked in her newly awakened body, and with a deep, drawn sigh, she lifted her hips to draw him in more deeply.
Nikki continued his slow rhythm, caressing her tenderly, listening to the murmurs wrung from her parted lips by the strange rapture she was experiencing for the first time and which she accepted with a growing passion by arching instinctively to meet each forceful stroke.
“Come, sweet princess, come with me,” he murmured softly, touching her neck gently with his warm lips, spoke to her in heated love-words, play-words, words that roused her further.
Nikki had discovered while still a mere youth that whispered phrases, passionate sentiments of affection, a few lustful words, can do more to take a woman over the edge than twenty minutes of the most ardent physical stimulation.
And the flush on Alisa’s cheeks was rising, a warm blush of color was spreading down her soft, white heaving breasts.
“Follow me, sweet angel,” he murmured tenderly.
She was almost there. And so was he.
Nikki held her crushed to him, his arms wrapped tightly around her slender back, holding her impaled on his rigid, engorged stiffness. His breathing was harsh and rapid, his warm whispers brushed her ear, his masculine scent touched her nostrils, tendrils of damp, dark curls clung to his forehead. He was fully roused, desperate for relief, as if he hadn’t had a woman for a long time. As if Tanya no longer existed. Succumbing to his mounting passion, he rode the crest of his desire, no longer restraining his passion, impatient for release. Alisa, too, with guiltless wonder
and a long-dormant sensuality abandoned herself to the full glory of her desire. She returned Nikki’s kisses wantonly, crushed her mouth feverishly against his, ran her hands over his magnificent body, reveled in the pressure of his firm, muscular frame, hard and demanding against her tender flesh, voluptuously joined him in the selfish, sensual dance of love. She gave herself to him, willingly opened her body for his pleasure, sobbed with a passion too long deferred, keening a quiet, soft cry of rapture as he brought her to an ecstasy she had never known, as he pressed against the mouth of her womb and poured his warmth into her.
She knew in that resplendent moment this was what she’d wanted from the first time she’d seen him and caught that hungry look in those golden eyes; his strength, his wildness, the feel of his powerful body on hers.
Her violet eyes opened slowly and lifted to his, her eyelids heavy with a sweet, languorous memory, and he realized as he gazed down on her beautiful flushed face how men could feel the torturous self-doubts of jealousy. That drowsy, voluptuous, yielding look, the curve of her full red lips, the heightened color, the gentle smile of surfeit—she was a sated woman remembering her lover’s caresses. To picture another man plundering the soft riches of her luscious body evoked in him an unfamiliar blaze of jealousy.
Alisa had seen lust in a man’s eyes; the fanatic, burning, frankly covetous eyes of her husband when he stripped her or beat her, the surreptitious, carefully concealed lust in the eyes of strangers. At this moment, however, Nikki’s golden eyes shone not only with a sensual desire, but also with tenderness as he marveled at the magnificent beauty of the creature before him. He must have her. He would gently teach her the pleasures of her senses, with deliberation rouse her, delicately caress the graceful form and make her his. This beauty
must
be his.…
For Alisa, who had only been used, her body torn apart and abused by a selfish, brutal lust, Nikki’s glance of passionate tenderness drew her like a beacon of warmth in a cold, black night.
Nikki kissed her lips lightly and murmured as he moved off and lay beside her, propped up on one elbow. “Thank you, love.”
He ran a light finger down her belly. “Do you feel content?”
Alisa smiled with a winsome satisfaction, then nodded with a delightful, almost childish openness, putting up her lips to be kissed again.
Her smile brought with it a novel sense of triumph and, bending near, he moved to kiss her. “Sweet nymph, we make a fine pair, Alisa,” Nikki whispered as his lips touched hers. She was everything and more than he’d imagined, a nymph, a bacchante, with a natural wantonness that stirred his ardor.
Rising to his knees, he gazed at her lying quietly with her thighs still slightly parted. The seductive lure of Alisa’s beauty, her compliant, provocative posture brought his manhood standing proud.