Free Seized by Love by Susan Johnson

Nikki’s sympathetic gesture. He hastily stayed his hand in midair.
    “Please go,” she whispered.
    “Alisa, let me explain,” Nikki began, forcibly struck by the misery in her tear-filled eyes.
    “Please,” she remonstrated in a barely audible voice. “Just go, you’ve had your amusement.” Her body involuntarily shuddered. “Just go!” she cried hysterically.
    “Very well,” Nikki said stiffly. He dressed swiftly, apologizing formally when he withdrew his shirt from her naked form and replaced it with one of her petticoats.
    “Please accept my deepest apologies, Madame,” he said in a clipped, cool voice as he bowed briefly to her recumbentform, her eyes staring, unseeing, averted from his. Then he walked quickly away, flushed with frustration and anger.
    Quite suddenly, all the light went out of Alisa’s day. She wept and wept, hugging her petticoat to her as though to keep herself from breaking apart from the great racking sobs of humiliation. She wasn’t ashamed of the men seeing her unclothed, she could survive that; she was ashamed for wanting Nikki so, for willingly giving her body to him; he hadn’t had to force her, she had wanted him. And she wept for that capitulation, for her loss of will. Strong and resolute enough to withstand an intolerable man and marriage for six years, determined enough to patiently plan and wait for escape from a husband she despised, she’d been brought low by an unfathomable desire for a man with a reputation for treating women casually. Who at this very moment, no doubt, considered her simply another pleasant diversion.
    Alisa’s life hadn’t been happy since the death of her parents; everything she’d loved and cherished had been swept away in a few days when influenza had claimed both her parents within hours of each other. The raging fever that had held them in its tenacious, deadly grip had never broken. Her lovely, gay mother and quiet, scholarly father had eased into a coma from which they’d never wakened. Alisa had often wished in the years following that she, too, could have died, but her young, strong body had defeated the disease.
    Then so shortly after, indeed quite improperly so, the incredulous demand of her hand in marriage by old Mr. Forseus, arranged, he’d said, by her father. Unthinkable, but apparently true, since her father’s signature was on the document.
    If she’d not had Katelina to love after that first year, a child to bring joy to her, she wouldn’t have had the strength or courage to continue her existence. Katelina,her darling Katelina, her only solace, had given her reason to live.
    Now, the one time she ignored reason, negated logic, passionately made a daring, bold grasp for momentary happiness, she’d been utterly shamed and humiliated. Maybe there truly was no hope for joy or pleasure in her life, Alisa sorrowfully thought. But she
had
been happy, deliriously happy with Nikki for however brief the moments.
    And she cried afresh at her wounded heart and pride. She cried for all her sorrows and all her misery these many years and sobbed all the sobs that had been so long suppressed. Then at length, when she’d finally drained all the pent-up tears, she took herself to task with the indomitable spirit that had always sustained her.
    Be sensible, you’ll survive this mortification, she told herself. She still had Katelina and before long, perhaps they’d be able to leave Forseus and make their way in the world. Arni, her father’s old groom, Maria, her old nanny, and Rakeli, Katelina’s nanny, were devotedly loyal and always ready to assist her, should that hope become reality.
    Alisa washed herself hastily at the river, then dressed carefully and adjusted her clothes into a semblance of order, her face in a spurious repose, and walked home.
    Nikki partially assuaged his black rage and frustration by summarily driving Cernov and Illyich out of his lodge, spurring their departure with a string of vivid obscenities. With a