'Til the End of Time: A Loveswept Contemporary Romance

by Iris Johansen

  Paulo’s expression was grave. “I am sorry about your home. I know how highly you valued it. I cannot understand this passion for a single dwelling, but I share your grief.” He grinned. “Perhaps it is for the best. Who knows? Maybe when you have won this war, you will join my tribe and we’ll show you how a man should live. No walls, no roots, no politics.”

  “No politics.” Sandor grimaced. “That alone makes your invitation irresistible.”

  “We will hide you in the hills. If they can’t find you, they can’t make you president.”

  “Well, I’ll worry about that when we’ve gotten rid of Naldona.” He pushed back his chair. “I have to see Alessandra before I leave. Where is she?”

  “In the machine shed.”

  “The machine shed?”

  “She wanted to take a nap. It was the only place I could put her where your people wouldn’t be stumbling over her. I put a cot in there and found her a pair of earplugs.” Paulo’s expression reflected satisfaction. “It worked very well. When I checked on her thirty minutes ago, she didn’t even stir.”

  “After what we’ve been through in the past two days, it wouldn’t surprise me if she slept for a month. Meet me at the helicopter in fifteen minutes, will you? There’s something I want you to do for me.”

  The machine shed smelled of oil and the concrete floor was stained with grease and spotted with paint. Alessandra was totally unaware of either the odor or the roughness of her surroundings. She was breathing deeply, evenly, sleeping the sleep of total exhaustion.

  Sandor knelt beside her. He didn’t have much time, but he wanted to spend these last minutes with her. There were a hundred things he still had to say to her. Their time together had been pitifully brief and shadowed by violence and misunderstanding. His glance fell on the rocking horse someone had shoved into the far corner of the shed. He hadn’t even told her how much it had meant, how much it had touched him, to have her fight so valiantly to preserve a part of his heritage. How could he hope she’d realize what they’d found together? He’d have to make her understand. When this miserable war was over, he’d find her and convince her he could be something other than the rough soldier she had known these last few days.

  He reached out his hand to touch her cheek. He stopped in midair and let his hand fall to his side without touching her. He had forgotten the wariness that was always with her. If he touched her, he would wake her, and he didn’t want to. He hoped she slept until all the horror of the coming attack was in the past. She had gone through one war. He would not inflict another on her. He would just stay here until it was time for him to leave. He would think about last night and the possibility of tomorrow. It would be enough.

  Nine

  There was something wrong.

  Alessandra’s eyes flew open, instinctive alarm jarring her awake. It was dark. The rancid odor of oil was heavy in the air. The machine shed. She remembered now. Paulo had found her a place to sleep for a few hours.… But that had been mid-morning, and it was dark now. She sat bolt upright and fumbled to remove her earplugs. Why hadn’t someone awakened her?

  Something was stirring across the room. She jerked around to face it.

  “It’s only me.” Paulo’s voice. “Don’t be afraid.” A match suddenly flared in the darkness, illuminating Paulo’s bearded face and sparkling eyes. “Sandor asked me to watch over you. I’m glad you’re awake. I was getting restless sitting here.” The match was extinguished and she heard a rustling as Paulo rose to his feet and moved across the room toward the light switch. “You slept a long time. Sandor said you were exhausted.”

  Alessandra blinked as Paulo switched on the harsh overhead light. She swung her feet to the floor. “What time is it?”

  “Three in the morning.” He shrugged. “Maybe later.”

  It was the middle of the night. For a moment she couldn’t take it in. “Why didn’t somebody wake me? Where’s Sandor?”

  “Gone back to the base.”

  “Without me? He left me here?”

  Paulo nodded, not looking at her. “He said it would be safer for you. He’s radioed Zack to send a jet to take you to Zurich. He told me to tell you he’d join you as soon as he could.”

  Alessandra stared at him blankly. “I’m to go to Switzerland and he’ll join me when it’s convenient?”

  Paulo nodded. “It shouldn’t be too long. Sandor has already launched the attack on Belajo. They should be in the thick of the fighting right now.”

  Fighting. Sandor was surrounded by violence and death and she wasn’t with him. He could die and she wouldn’t even know it. And he wanted her to go to Switzerland? “How do I get to Belajo?”

  Paulo smiled in satisfaction. “It’s very dangerous,” he murmured. “And difficult. Sandor will be angry.”

  “How do I get there?”

  “Fighting is fierce around Limtana, and we have to cross that territory to get to Belajo.”

  “How, Paulo?”

  “We walk.”

  She made a face. “I was afraid of that.”

  “It will be very interesting. I know many ways to avoid—”

  “I’m sure you do, and none of them in a straight line. It will probably take us twice as long as the trip coming here.”

  “Possibly. You do not like to walk?”

  “Let’s just say walking doesn’t like me.”

  Paulo’s eyes were innocent. “You could stay here or go to Zurich. I’m certain you’d be very comfortable at either place.”

  “We walk.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “I thought you would. That’s why I didn’t argue with Sandor when he asked me to stay. I knew that you and I would have a better time together than I would have had with him in Belajo. Battle takes little skill. It is the hunt that challenges a man. Whether he’s the prey or the hunter, it is the hunt.”

  She found herself smiling. He was like a zestful child, and his enthusiasm was contagious. Paulo and Leo would have made a fine pair, she thought with amusement. The adventure just over the horizon beckoned to both of them. She felt a tiny thrill of anticipation herself as she started for the door. “Let’s hope the challenges aren’t too extreme this time. Let me wash up and get something to eat and we’ll be on our way.”

  Belajo was a madhouse of joy. Singing, dancing in the streets, cafés giving out free wine and ale. Paulo had to step in twice before they had gone four blocks from the city gates to keep Alessandra from being swept away by a wave of enthusiastic merrymakers.

  “Perhaps we had better go down one of the side streets,” he suggested, his big hand holding firmly to her wrist to keep her at his side. “Victory has a way of causing a certain amount of madness. A pleasant madness. It is good to see the people so happy. They suffered much under Naldona, and Sandor is extremely popular.”

  “That’s very obvious.” She had heard many shouts of “Karpathan!” and “Tanzar!” since she had entered the city. “Is it really over?”

  “So it seems.” Paulo shrugged. “I will know more when we run across one of Sandor’s officers. The city is secure and we had little trouble crossing Limtana. Sandor’s army evidently made a clean sweep.”

  “But where can we find Sandor? The palace?”

  “Possibly.” He frowned. “You look very tired. Sandor will not be pleased. Why don’t you sit down at that outdoor café across the street, and I will find Sandor and bring him to you.”

  It was tempting. The last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare of pain and exhaustion. The trip through the hills might have been an interesting exercise in evasion for Paulo, but for her it had been fraught with agony and worry. She hadn’t been certain Sandor was safe, until they ran into a troop of soldiers outside the city who told them of Sandor’s victory. Now all she had to worry about was finding Sandor in a city gone crazy with excitement, and trying to stay upright on feet that felt as if they’d been slashed by the knives of Sandor’s mermaid story. She shook her head. “No. I’ve come this far, and t
here’s no telling how long it will take you to find Sandor.”

  “You have great strength. Are you sure you aren’t a gypsy?”

  “I’m not sure of anything. There are—”

  “Ho! Conal!” Paulo’s shout interrupted her. He released her wrist. “Wait here.” He agilely dodged his way through the crowd toward a canvas-covered truck carrying soldiers that was slowly negotiating its way through the streets. “Stop, Conal!”

  The truck stopped and the passenger door of the cab opened. The dark, stocky man who leaned out to speak to Paulo looked vaguely familiar, Alessandra thought. She’d probably seen him at the base. She stepped back into the alcove of a butcher shop to get out of the crowd and leaned wearily against the wall.

  Paulo and the soldier spoke for only a few minutes, and then Paulo was cutting his way through the crowd toward her.

  “Well?”

  “It’s not good.” Paulo’s expression was grave. “We’ve won the war, but Naldona refuses to surrender. His personal guard has barricaded his suite at the palace, and he has a hostage.” He paused. “James Bruner.”

  “James!” She straightened. “But he has nothing to do with this.”

  “He’s an American citizen. If anything happens to him, the United States government will be very upset. A brand-new republic can’t afford to annoy a superpower.”

  “But nothing could happen to James. He doesn’t—” She broke off. As long as James was held by Naldona, anything was possible. “You said he was a hostage. What does Naldona want?”

  “A helicopter to take him to the airport. A jet to take him where he wishes to go from there.” He hesitated. “And Sandor Karpathan.”

  A tingle of shock ran through her. “Sandor couldn’t give into a demand like that. Naldona would kill him. His men wouldn’t let him do it.”

  “Sandor is the Tanzar. His men will do as he commands.”

  “No!” She drew a shuddering breath. Surely Sandor wouldn’t do it. Yet who knew better than she how much he had already given up? Why had she and James even come to Tamrovia? It was her fault both James and Sandor were in danger, and it was her responsibility to correct that situation. “Where is Sandor now?”

  “He is at the palace. His men have set up a position in the courtyard. Naldona has given him another six hours to make a decision before he kills Bruner.”

  Six hours. She felt a surge of relief so great, her legs went weak. At least Sandor would be safe until she had time to figure out what to do. “Oh, thank God.”

  “Conal is waiting in the truck to take us to the palace. Sandor has sent for more troops. I thought you would want to go with him.”

  “Yes.” She spoke abstractedly as she began to wend her way through the crowd. “Yes, I want to go the palace.” The secret passage! She skidded to a stop. If Sandor didn’t put himself in Naldona’s hands, it was almost certain he would use the secret passage for a surprise attack. The action would put him right in Naldona’s lap. But even if Naldona was surprised, it didn’t mean there wouldn’t be violence. James or Sandor still could be either hurt or ki— She mustn’t think about what might happen. She had to decide what to do. What were Naldona’s weak points? There must be something she could use. Women. His attitude toward women was—

  “Alessandra?” Paulo was gazing at her in puzzlement.

  She began walking quickly, almost running, toward the truck. “I need a weapon, Paulo. Something that can be easily hidden.”

  “A weapon.” Paulo repeated slowly. “Now, I wonder why you need a weapon?”

  “This is my fault. I’m the one who has to straighten it out. Sandor could be killed …”

  “You are going after Bruner yourself.” Paulos gaze was narrowed on her face. “The secret passage?”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You know about the passage?”

  He nodded. “I met Sandor for the first time in that passage. It was a very interesting evening.” He was silent for a moment. “I will go with you.”

  “No, I can’t have anyone along who might make Naldona suspicious. I’ve decided to try to play on Naldona’s contempt for my sex. Judging by that flea-brained mistress he keeps, it’s probable he thinks we have only one skill worth cultivating.” She smiled crookedly. “I have to appear just as flea-brained and vulnerable. You have to admit you’re not exactly unintimidating.”

  “Who, me?” His teeth were bared in a wolfish grin. “I’m as gentle as a pussycat.”

  “Well, I don’t need a pussycat. I need a weapon.”

  “You can’t go alone. You are the Tanzar’s woman. You would be a more valuable hostage for Naldona than Bruner.”

  “I’m not the Tanzar’s woman. I’m my own woman. But if Naldona thinks I’m Sandor’s plaything, so much the better. He won’t have his guard up.”

  “I don’t know …”

  “It’s the only way there’s even a chance of there being no casualties.” Her voice held a hint of desperation. “Don’t argue with me, Paulo. Help me.”

  Paulo’s gaze was fixed on her thoughtfully. “You will go anyway, won’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “Then I will help you. What kind of weapon?”

  A miniscule amount of the tension left her. “A small gun, preferably. I hate knives.”

  “We will see what Conal can find in the truck. Among an entire troop, surely we’ll be able to find one small gun for the Tanzar’s woman.”

  “I’m not—” She stopped. What did it matter what he called her? Perhaps she was Sandor’s woman. If love was the common denominator of possession, then Sandor was certainly her man. “Sandor mustn’t know about this.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t promise. All I can guarantee is that you’ll have a head start. It will be up to you to make the most of it. Conal is very devoted to Sandor, and I won’t be able to keep him quiet for long.”

  “I’ll make the most of it. Thank you, Paulo.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I would not let you go if I didn’t think you had a chance. As I said, you are a strong woman.” He smiled. “There are times when you remind me of my sister, Marna.”

  “You have a sister here in Tamrovia?”

  “No, she and my tribe are in the United States right now. Zack Damon found them a fine, free place to stay until the end of the war.”

  “But you didn’t go with them?”

  “The hunting was better here. But now that Sandor has won his war, it may become very boring. Perhaps I will go to this Montana.”

  “The war’s not over yet.” Not while Naldona was still threatening Sandor and James. Not yet. But it would be over soon, if she had anything to say about it.

  She had reached the cab of the truck, and took Conal’s hand and let him pull her onto the seat next to him. “I don’t think we were introduced at the base.” She smiled at him with dazzling sweetness. “I’m Alessandra Ballard, the Tanzar’s woman, and I was wondering if you would do me a great favor.”

  Alessandra turned the sconce, and the bookshelf panel swiveled open. She stood there in the passage, hesitating. No voices. She gave a sigh of relief. She had thought Naldona would take James to his own suite instead of setting up his headquarters here, but there was no way of being sure. She stepped into the sitting room and turned the sconce on the wall to close the panel. So far, so good. The suite appeared to be empty. She moved silently toward her bedroom. She didn’t have much time, but she couldn’t convince Naldona she was a helpless sex toy while she looked more like a soldier.

  It took less than four minutes to change into a white silk blouse and baggy white slacks that hid the small pistol tied to her calf. She took down her hair and brushed it swiftly. She had no time for makeup. She didn’t have to look beautiful, only womanly. Shoes. They had to be totally impractical to blend with the image she needed to create. She stripped off her tennis shoes and socks and thrust her feet into high-heeled sandals. She gasped as her weight was thrown onto the ball of her feet. She closed her eyes and dr
ew a deep breath, waiting for the pain to abate to a point where she could block it out. She opened her eyes. Good heavens, she was pale. She couldn’t worry about that now. She turned away from the mirror and walked slowly, carefully out of the bedroom and crossed the sitting room to the door opening into the hall.

  She managed to slip unnoticed out of the suite, but had gone only a few yards down the hall toward Naldona’s suite when she heard the cocking of a pistol behind her. “Halt!”

  “I’m halted, for goodness’ sake,” she said peevishly. She looked over her shoulder at the soldier holding the gun. “You don’t have to threaten me with that thing. I’m frightened enough as it is. Where’s Naldona?”

  The door to Naldona’s suite opened. “Miss Ballard?” Marc Naldona stood in the doorway. “How nice of you to drop in. Would you care to tell me how you managed it? You and Karpathan appear to be escape artists on a par with Houdini.”

  She waved her hand vaguely. “Sandor showed me a way from the terrace up a back staircase. I was too scared to pay much attention.” She scowled. “I don’t like being used as a pawn by the two of you. I’m an American citizen, dammit.”

  “Pawn?” Naldona’s dark eyes were narrowed on her. Cold eyes. “Why do you think Karpathan would use you as a pawn? He was quite defensive of you at Limtana.”

  “That was before you burned his bloody castle. You would have thought that damn pile of wood and stone was alive. He turned into a raving maniac.”

  “Really?” There was a flicker of savage satisfaction in Naldona’s face. “He was hurting?”

  Damn him. She could almost feel the pleasure radiating from the bastard. She lowered her lashes to veil her eyes. “Bleeding. He went wild. Cursing you.” She inserted a thread of indignation into her tone. “He even blamed me. What did I have to do with it? I couldn’t help it if I got too tired to travel anymore that night. He was eager enough to drag me into the nearest bedroom. Now he treats me as if I have leprosy, or something.”