Til the End of Time

by Iris Johansen

  The slender beam of the penlight pierced the darkness. His gaze quietly searched her taut face with concern. "There's nothing down here to hurt you. I never would have brought you with me if there had been."

  She knew he wouldn't. In spite of the unpleas­antness of her surroundings, she'd been certain Karpathan would never expose her to any real peril if he could prevent it. She smiled crookedly. "There had better not be. I'm not skilled at alliga­tor wrestling. The fist one we run into is all yours."

  "Right." His hand was on her elbow, propelling her forward. "I welcome the challenge. We modern men are handicapped by the lack of dragons to fight for our ladies. I guess an alligator would do nicely."

  His lady. A warm contentment touched her like the crackling heat of a fire on a crisp winter day. She should resent the possessiveness in the words. Yet she found it difficult to do so when it made her feel so exquisitely treasured. She had the irra­tional feeling that now that she had experienced this warmth, she would miss it when Karpathan took it away. She must be going soft. She had never missed being cosseted before. "I think I'd enjoy watching the show."

  "The question is, which one of us would you be rooting for?" he asked dryly. His hand tightened as she slipped a little on the fungus-coated con­crete. "Watch it. I wouldn't want to have to pluck you out of that water. You'd be even more per­turbed at me if you came out of here smelling like ..."

  "A sewer," she finished for him. "I think I'm already in that condition. How much farther do we have to go?"

  "Another half mile or so. This sewer empties into the Gratani River about a quarter of a mile outside the city. Unfortunately there's a road di­rectly across the river controlled by Naldona's troops. We'll have to wait for the diversion Jannot's arranged before we leave the sewer. That should be in about forty minutes."

  "Diversion?"

  "A guerrilla attack."

  "Quite a diversion just to get me out of the city."

  "But very worthwhile. I'm becoming more con­vinced of that with every passing moment."

  She glanced back to see a faint smile on his lips.

  "Now all I have to do is to convince you, my dear Amazon."

  "You'll never—" She broke off and looked away. No doubt Karpathan would regard the denial she'd been about to make in the same light as the alli­gator challenge. She wasn't sure she was up to facing that particular kind of challenge at the moment. She closed her lips, her steps uncon­sciously quickening. "Let's get out of here before this odor becomes embedded in my bones."

  She didn't know whether the sound echoing behind her was a chuckle or a reproving cluck. It didn't matter. Whatever his response, she knew it would not be meant unkindly. She had discovered that beneath the hard facade Sandor Karpathan assumed, there lay a surprising gentleness.

  "For the love of God, move!" There was no sign of gentleness now on Karpathan s face as he jerked her after him up the incline. "Jannot's men can't keep up the artillery fire much longer without being spotted. We have to get beyond the summit of the hill so they can get the hell out of there."

  "I am hurrying." She twisted her arm out of his grip. She cast a glance across the river. The atten­tion of Naldona's soldiers was concentrated on the bluff bordering the highway, but that could change at any moment. "Go on. Run. I'm not a doll to be carried. I can keep up with you."

  Something warm flickered in his expression before he turned away. "I believe you can. Let's prove it, shall we?" He began to run, keeping as low as he could on the open terrain of the path.

  Alessandra followed him, moving with the same speed and caution. The path was steep and went almost straight up. By the time they crested the hill, her breath was coming in labored gasps. Good Lord, she was out of condition. But Karpathan was a little out of breath, too, she noticed with satisfaction. "Were we seen?"

  "You would have known it if we were." Sandor's lips twisted. "There would have been bullets whis­tling over the pretty brown bun on the top of your head. But we should keep on going until we get behind our lines. Do you need a rest?"

  She shook her head, too breathless to answer.

  There was again that flicker of pride in his face. "It's only across the next hill. Our base is a few hours' hike away, but once we're behind the lines, it will be safe to let you stop for a while." He turned away and began to cover the ground at a half trot, trusting her to keep the pace.

  Karpathan's trust filled her with the same strange, fierce happiness as the pride she had seen glimmering in his face. In that moment she could understand why Karpathan was supposed to be able to inspire his followers to perform mi­raculous feats. She would probably have done a hell of a lot more than stretch her physical re­sources to the limit to have him look at her again with admiration and pride.

  However, her limit of endurance had nearly been reached when Sandor called a halt. There was a bead of moisture running down her back and every breath was causing an agonizingly sharp pain in her side as she collapsed against a huge maple tree and leaned back against the rough bark of its trunk.

  "We're safe now."

  "How do you know we're behind your lines?" she asked curiously as soon as she could get her breath. "We haven't seen any soldiers."

  "That's because they know who I am." Sandor dropped down beside her. "Guerrilla warfare. Naldona's men would have been cut down a hun­dred yards ago."

  "I'm glad your men have good eyesight." She grimaced. "I suppose they would shoot me, too, if I wandered away from you."

  "Not after they'd seen you with me." He went still. His eyes narrowed on her face. "Don't even think about it, Alessandra. You might be safe from them, but you wouldn't be safe from me. I'd stop you long before you reached the labone."

  "I have to think about it." She leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree. "I told you, I have something to do in Belajo. I can't leave until I've finished what I started."

  "What the devil is important enough to risk getting killed for?" His tone was roughly impa­tient. "For heaven's sake, tell me."

  She opened her lips and then closed them with­out speaking. She was tempted to give him the information he demanded, but the trust she was learning was too new. Sandor Karpathan's cha­risma was forceful enough to persuade an angel to give up its wings. What if she were wrong to give him her trust?

  An expression close to pain fleetingly crossed his face. "Very well. I can wait. You'll have to talk to me eventually."

  She met his gaze and felt a flutter of panic. He was right. If she stayed with him, there was no question that she'd tell him what he wanted to know. It was only a matter of time. Why; she had been trailing after him as meekly as a blasted camp follower! It was incredible how far they had come since she had walked out on the terrace last night.

  "No!" She jumped to her feet. "Dammit, Karpa-than, I won't let you manipulate me. You've al­ready mesmerized half of Tamrovia. Just let me alone."

  "I can't seem to do that," he said simply. "I've given up trying. I believe you'll reach that point, too, before long."

  "The hell I will." She whirled and was running back in the direction from which they had come. She heard a low curse and then the rustle of the brush behind her as he started in pursuit. She flew over the ground, adrenaline lending strength to lungs and muscles she had so recently strained to the point of exhaustion.

  "Stop, dammit." His voice was low and intense, close behind her. "Alessandra, this isn't—" He broke off as she had a spurt of speed and pulled a few yards ahead of him. She might make it! The sudden effort to escape had been sheer impulse prompted by panic, but there was no reason why she shouldn't succeed. She was strong, and heaven knew she had endurance. Karpathan wouldn't call for help, because he would be afraid it would trigger his men to hurt her. If she could gain a few more yards . . .

  She fell to the ground with a stunning force. He had tackled her, she realized dazedly. Karpathan moved quickly astride her. His powerful hand on her nape pressed her face into the grass. She couldn't breathe!
She tried to lift her head, but his grasp wouldn't permit it.

  "Stop struggling." His tone was as coolly ruth­less as his hand on her neck. "You'll either prom­ise to quit fighting me or 111 keep your face pressed into the dirt until you pass out."

  She was close to unconsciousness now. She was fighting wildly for breath, and the darkness was lifting and falling.

  "Your word," Karpathan demanded.

  Damn him, how did he think she could speak if she couldn't breathe? The thought must have oc­curred to him, for his grip shifted and she was allowed to turn her head so her cheek was pressed to the ground instead of her mouth and nose. "I promise," she said, gasping.

  She was flipped over, and found herself looking up at Karpathan's tense face. He was pale. She was the one who had nearly suffocated. Why was he so pale? Her breasts were lifting and falling as she tried to force air back into her starved lungs. Her gaze blazed at him. "For now, Karpathan."

  "Oh, God!" The words were wrenched from him. "Why are you making me do this to you?" He lifted the short rain poncho over her head and threw it aside. He placed his hands beneath her breasts, with his thumbs on her breastbone. Star­tled, her eyes widened in apprehension. Then the tenseness flowed out of her as she realized the action was completely impersonal. He was gently compressing and releasing her diaphragm to help her breathe. "Tell me. Let me help you. You know I can't let you go." There was a muscle jerking in his left cheek, and her gaze fastened on it in bemused fascination. "Whatever you have to do in Belajo, I can arrange to have done for you. We can work it out. Trust me."

  His hands felt warm and gentle through the cotton of her shirt. His dark blue eyes were also gentle in his tormented face. Her anger was sud­denly gone. He had done what he had to do. She probably would have done the same.

  "Trust me," he repeated coaxingly. "You won't be sorry, Alessandra."

  Lord, she hoped not. Because she knew she was going to trust him. The decision brought such a lessening of tension it made her a little dizzy. She hesitated. "There's a priest, Father John Dinot," she said haltingly. "I was to see him today to make final—" She broke off to glare up at him fiercely. "If you betray me, I'll come back and cut your heart out, Karpathan."

  "You haven't given me anything to betray yet," he said dryly. "What are you up to with the good father?"

  "It's for the children." Her gaze moved to a point beyond his shoulder. "They're the ones who are hurt the most by war. You and Naldona will tear the country apart for your damn principles. I've seen it happen before. And all that's going to be left will be the hunger and the suffering. And the children. The children will survive. They always survive. But someone has to help them."

  "And is that what you're doing, Alessandra?" His fingers reached out to tenderly brush a ten­dril of hair from her temple.

  She nodded, still not looking at him. "James supplies the money. I find a distributor, such as Father Dinot, who has no allegiance to either side, and we channel food and medical supplies through a neutral network. In that way we bypass the government bureaucracies which have a tendency to pocket a hefty percentage of relief funds."

  "I see."

  There was a raw savagery in the tone that brought her gaze flying back to his face. She in­haled sharply. Hurt. Besides anger, there was hurt in the eyes looking into her own.

  "And I suppose you're lumping me with the bureaucrats who would rob those children. My God, what kind of monster do you think I am?"

  "I didn't know you. You and Naldona deal in power. Power changes people."

  "Enough to turn me into a man who robs chil­dren?" His eyes were blazing fiercely. "I'm fight­ing this war as much for those children as for—" He stopped and drew a deep breath, struggling for control. She had struck him where he was most vulnerable. No one knew better than he how power corrupted. Naldona had become a ruthless dicta­tor after his first sip of the heady vintage. Why should he blame Alessandra for thinking he might do the same if given the opportunity? "What do you want me to do? How can I help you?"

  Now there was weariness as well as hurt in his eyes. For some reason she couldn't bear to think she had caused Karpathan to look so utterly world-weary. "I do trust you, Karpathan," she whispered. "I know you wouldn't hurt my children."

  "Thank you." The grimness disappeared from his expression as he smiled gently down at her. "I think you've given me one of your rare compli­ments. I don't believe trust in your fellow man

  comes easily for you, but I have an idea I still have a long way to go. It wouldn't take more than a flicker of suspicion to have you threaten to cut my heart out again." His hands were still pressing and releasing her diaphragm, though her breath­ing was now as steady as his own. She really should tell him to stop. But the movement was very . . . pleasant.

  "Now, let's set a plan in motion to accomplish our objectives." His brow wrinkled in thought. "I can't risk security by bringing Father Dinot into camp to talk to you. Besides, it would be danger­ous for him. The best thing would be to send a courier with your instructions. He can also bring a message back." His gaze searched her face. "If you think you can entrust a confidential message to one of my men."

  She nodded slowly. "I imagine you're a good judge of character, Karpathan." She grinned up at him. "And you've recently given me a demon­stration of the treatment you mete out when some­one displeases you. I doubt if your messenger would risk having your wrath turned in his direction."

  "This particular messenger doesn't give a damn about my wrath, but I believe you'll agree he's reliable." His expression became grave. "I'll also have a message sent to Bruner to let him know you're safe. The only promise I'll ask you to make is to cooperate in letting me smuggle you over the border into Switzerland."

  "I'm not unreasonable. If you can arrange for me to complete my business with Father Dinot, I'll be glad to leave Tamrovia. I can't say I've had a very pleasant stay here."

  "I'm sorry. It's really a wonderful country." His expression was earnest. "I could show you places—"

  "Karpathan, I'm afraid it's too late for a travel­ogue. Now don't you think you could let me get up?"

  "Sandor," he prompted softly. "I want to hear you say my name."

  "Sand—" She inhaled sharply as she looked up into his eyes. They were communicating some­thing so heated and basic, she felt a tremor run through her.

  "Again." His fingers on her rib cage were no longer impersonal, but intimately sensual, as they moved beneath her breasts in a slow, easy rhythm. "I like it. Say it again."

  Her throat was so tight, she wasn't sure she could form the word again. She was conscious of a slow, hot, melting sensation in her limbs and at the apex of her thighs. Melting, and yet tingling as if those sensitive places were being lazily stirred by the motion of his fingers. "Sandor," she whis­pered.

  "You have the most magnificent..." His hands pushed up gently, throwing her full, ripe breasts into bold prominence. His eyes were fastened with searing hunger on the mounds jutting against the cotton of her shirt. "I can still see you stand­ing in your bedroom with your breasts spilling out of that little scrap of a bra." His fingers pushed her still higher. A shudder went through him. "I thought you'd probably spill out of my palms like that too." His fingertips were gently rubbing and smoothing the sides of her breasts. "I'd like to see them do that. I'd like to have you leaning over me, and be able to open my mouth and—" He broke

  off and closed his eyes. "I lay there beside you last night and thought how soft you'd be if I unbut­toned your blouse and put my hand on you. I kept telling myself just touching you for a second wouldn't hurt." He opened his eyes, and they were soft and glazed with hunger. "But I knew I wouldn't stop there. I'd have to use my mouth and my—"

  "Stop." Alessandra moistened her lips with her tongue. Her breasts felt taut and swollen, as if they would burst through the cloth confining them. She was burning up. Tingling. Even the soles of her feet were tingling. "I'm getting confused. I don't want. . . It's too fast."


  "I know." The words were grated from between his teeth. "But it's happening. You know it's happening."

  She couldn't lie to him. "Yes."

  "Good." A little of the tension drained out of him. "At least you admit I'm not alone in this. It helps to know that. It may even keep me from jumping the gun until you become accustomed to the idea." He added quietly, "I probably wouldn't be this generous with my patience if I didn't know there's an excellent possibility we're being watched by the perimeter guards. I want you very much." His hands reluctantly left her. "I've never before wanted anyone or anything this much in my life."

  The expression on her face revealed how trou­bled she felt. "I can't promise anything. I don't know if—"

  "Well, I know," he said as he swung off her and rose to his feet. "But I've asked you to promise enough for one day." He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "You're an honest woman. When you're ready to commit yourself, you'll come to me and tell me." His expression was suddenly grave. "You will belong to me, Alessandra."

  She bent and picked up the poncho from the grass. "I don't know whether I will or not. You're a persuasive man, but I don't like ties." She looked up to meet his eyes. "And I think you could be very possessive."

  "You're right." His lips twisted in a lopsided smile. "Perhaps if I show you my other sterling qualities you'll be willing to put up with one, mi­nor fault."

  "Perhaps." She was feeling warm and breath­less again, and she determinedly pulled her gaze away. "Don't you think we should be on our way to your base to send that message to Father Dinot?" She glanced down at the poncho across her arm and wrinkled her nose distastefully. "And if I smell as bad as this raincoat,4there's definitely another priority I'll have to attend to after the message has gone out. I hope you have facilities for a bath, Sandor."

  "We'll arrange something." He took her arm. "Leave it to me."

  She was leaving a great deal to Sandor Karpathan, Alessandra thought as she fell into step with his long-legged stride. It was strange that she wasn't feeling even a faint trace of misgiving. Strange and warm and ... exciting.