Last Bridge Home

by Iris Johansen

  “You won’t be sorry, Beth. I’ll take such good care of you. I’ll take you home to Mill Cottage and—”

  “No.”

  He lifted his head. “What?”

  “No, we’re not going to Mill Cottage.” She forced herself to smile. “We’re going to Sedi-khan.”

  Jon’s gaze searched her face. “Not if it’s going to make you unhappy. I told you I could make it work here.”

  She shook her head. “No, it will be safer for you and Andrew in Sedikhan. I decided I couldn’t live with myself if I were that selfish. I don’t deny it’s going to hurt to leave. It’s going to hurt like hell, but sometimes a person has to give up one love to gain another. You said Andrew was a bridge between the past and the future. Well, there are other bridges. I think love can be a bridge. I’m not afraid of what you are or what you’ll become. I have enough to worry about living up to my own potential, without going into a panic about yours. After all, determination and initiative count for something too. I figure I can give you a run for your money regardless of your IQ.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Jon’s eyes were warmly tender. “I’ll probably have to watch out or I’ll be left at the gate, my dear Yankee.”

  She reached up to frame his face in her two hands and look into his eyes. “I love you with all my heart, but that love won’t be the last bridge home. Because it is home. Wherever we are together will be home.”

  His dark eyes were glittering. “I’ll bring you back to Mill Cottage someday. I promise you, Beth.”

  “Perhaps by that time Sedikhan will be home, and I’ll only want to come for a visit. I’m sure the first generation of Cartwrights had moments of homesickness for the old country when they first built Mill Cottage.” She smiled. “We Yankees are very adaptable once we put our minds to it.”

  He turned his head to press his lips to her palm. “May I say I’m very happy this particular Yankee happened into my life? Lord, I love you, Beth. You’ll see, I’ll make you so damn happy you’ll never think of Mark Ra—” He broke off as he met her eyes. “Sorry. I told you I was competitive. I guess it’s going to take a little time.” A sudden joyous smile lit his face. “But we’ve got time, haven’t we?” He kissed her with a wild exuberance. “We’ve got the rest of our lives.”

  “The rest of our lives,” she repeated softly. Joy, hope, beauty. They had so much together it would soon crowd out any lingering sadness.

  “Your hair is getting damp.” He brushed away a snowflake that was clinging to her temple. “I’d better get you into the plane.” He still didn’t move. “I don’t want to let you go. Why the hell do we seem to spend all our time surrounded by snow?”

  “I guess it’s the penalty you must pay for falling in love with a Yankee.” She grinned and stepped back. “I remember one or two occasions that weren’t too uncomfortable, and I’m looking forward to many, many more.” She linked her arm through his. “But I guess we’d better go inside. Your Mr. Donahue will be get ting impatient.”

  Gunner met them at the door and handed her a towel. “I thought you might need this.” He raised an eyebrow at Jon, “Remind me to give you a few pointers. I understand snow tends to dampen a lady’s ardor.” He turned back to Elizabeth and his face softened as he saw her glowing eyes. “But, on the other hand, I could be wrong. Maybe it works as an aphrodisiac for a special few. Let me help you with your coat, Elizabeth. We’re going to Sedi-khan?”

  “We’re going to Sedikhan.” She dabbed at her cheeks and hair with the towel.

  “I’d better go to the cockpit and let Clancy know it’s all right to take off.” Jon brushed her temple with his lips. “I’ll be back as soon as we’re airborne, love.” He turned away. “See that she and Andrew are properly buckled up and comfortable, Gunner.”

  “Right.” Gunner motioned across the luxurious cabin to one of the deep blue plush chairs by the window. “If you’ll sit down, I’ll bring Andrew to you. I have to run out to the truck and get his restraint seat. I didn’t want to set it up in the plane until I was sure we were going.”

  A few minutes later she was holding sweet, warm Andrew and gazing out the window at the rapidly falling snow. She was leaving. It might be years before she saw the beloved familiar landscape of her country again. For an instant she felt a poignant sense of loss, but she firmly crushed it down. No one ever has everything he or she wants, and she had so much to be grateful for. She had Jon and An drew and Gunner. Love and friendship and purpose. Yes, she was very lucky.

  She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, her arms tightening around Andrew. She wouldn’t look out the window again until they were high above the clouds, until they had left her home far behind. It would be easier that way. She knew she would be all right after the initial homesickness wore off, but she couldn’t deny the pain she felt. She only hoped Jon would stay up front with Donahue until she could get herself under control. He would want to share her pain, and she mustn’t let him see how difficult leaving home was for her.

  She would try to think of something else. Something that would take her mind off all she was leaving behind. She would think of the warm deserts of Sedikhan, Jon’s smile of de light before he kissed her, the exquisite scent of lilacs, the mist-laden meadows lit by beautiful glowing torches.

  So beautiful. So familiar. Returning once again to lighten her spirit and dispense the dark desolation of the moment with warm understanding and love. A loving balm soothing away her sorrow and showing her a brighter tomorrow. Such wonderful torches …

  Torches!

  But that meant … The realization jarred her from her haze of contentment. But how? Jon was in the cockpit with Clancy Donahue, and Gunner had left the plane to bring the restraint seat from the truck.

  Slowly, very slowly, Elizabeth opened her eyes.

  Andrew was smiling at her.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  IRIS JOHANSEN has more than twenty-seven million copies of her books in print, and is the New York Times bestselling author of Stalemate, Killer Dreams, On the Run, Countdown, Blind Alley, Firestorm, Fatal Tide, Dead Aim, and more. She lives near Atlanta, Georgia.

  Coming Soon from Bantam Dell…

  Two sizzling romances from

  Iris Johansen:

  The richly seductive

  LION’S BRIDE

  available August 2008

  and its never-before-published sequel

  THE TREASURE

  available December 2008

  Read on for a sneak peak of THE TREASURE …

  THE TREASURE

  Coming from Bantam in December 2008

  May 3, 1196

  Fortress of Maysef

  Nosairi Mountains

  Syria

  His power was waning, fading like that bloodred sun setting behind the mountains.

  Jabbar Al Nasim’s fists clenched with fury as he gazed out at the sun sinking on the horizon. It should not be. It made no sense that he should be so afflicted. Weakness was for those other fools, not for him.

  Yet he had always known it would come. It had even come for Sinan, the Old Man of the Mountain. But he had always been stronger than the old man, in both mind and spirit. Sinan had bent before the yoke, but Nasim had prepared for it.

  Kadar.

  “You sent for me, master?”

  He turned to see Ali Balkir striding along the battlements toward him. The man’s voice was soft, hesitant, and he could see the fear in his face. Nasim felt a jolt of fierce pleasure as he realized the captain had not detected any loss of power. Well, why should he? Nasim had always been master here, in spite of what outsiders thought. Sinan might have been the King of Assassins, feared by kings and warriors alike, but Nasim had been the one who had guided his foot steps. Everyone here at the fortress knew this and groveled at his feet.

  And they’d continue to grovel. He would not let this monstrous thing happen to him.

  Balkir took a hurried step back as he saw Nasim’s expression. “Perhaps I was mistaken.
I beg your forgiveness for intrud—”

  “No, stay. I have a task for you.”

  Balkir drew a relieved breath. “Another attack on the Frankish ships? Gladly. I brought you much gold from my last journey. I will bring you even more this—”

  “Be silent. I wish you to return to Scotland, where you left Kadar Ben Arnaud and the foreigners. You are to tell him nothing of what has transpired here. Do not mention me. Tell him only that Sinan is claiming his price. Bring him to me.”

  Balkir’s eyes widened. “Sinan? But Sinan is—”

  “Do you question me?”

  “No, never.” Balkir moistened his lips. “But what if he refuses?”

  Balkir was terrified, Nasim realized, and not of failing him. Nasim had forgotten that Balkir was at the fortress at the time Kadar underwent his training; Balkir knew how adept Kadar was in all the dark arts. More adept than any man Nasim had ever known, and Kadar was only a boy of ten and four when he came to the mountain. How proud Sinan had been of him. What plans he had made for the two of them. He had never realized Nasim had plans of his own for Kadar.

  All wasted when Kadar had left the dark path and rejected Sinan to live with the foreigners. What a fool the Old Man had been to let him go.

  But it was not too late. What Sinan had lost, Nasim could reclaim.

  If Kadar did not die as the others had died.

  Well, if he died, he died. Kadar was only a man; it was the power that was important.

  “He won’t refuse,” Nasim said. “He gave Sinan his word in exchange for the lives of the foreigners.”

  “What if he does?”

  “You are questioning me,” Nasim said with dangerous softness.

  Balkir turned pale. “No, master. Of course he won’t refuse. Not if you say he won’t. I only—”

  “Be gone.” Nasim waved his hand. “Set sail at once.”

  Balkir nodded jerkily and backed away from him. “I will bring him. Whether or not he wishes to come I will force—”

  The words cut off abruptly as Nasim turned his back on him. The man was only trying to gain respect in his eyes. He would have no more chance against Kadar if he tried to use force than he would against Nasim, and he probably knew it.

  But he wouldn’t have to use force. Kadar would come. Not only because of his promise but because he would know what would result if he didn’t. Sinan had spared the lives of Lord Ware, his woman, Thea, and the child Selene and given them all a new life in Scotland. Nasim had permitted the foolishness be cause he had wanted to keep Kadar safe until it was time to use him.

  But no one would be more aware than Kadar that the safety Sinan had given could always be taken away.

  Kadar had shown a baffling softness toward his friend Lord Ware and a stranger bond with the child Selene. Such emotions were common on the bright path, but Nasim had taught Kadar better. It seemed fitting that he be caught in his master’s noose because he’d ignored his teachings.

  The fortress gate was opening and Balkir rode through it. He kicked his horse into a dead run down the mountain. He would be in Hafir in a few days and set sail as soon as he could stock his ship, the Dark Star.

  Nasim turned back to the setting sun. It had descended almost below the horizon now, darkness was closing in. But it would return tomorrow, blasting all before it with its power.

  And so would Nasim.

  His gaze shifted north toward the sea. Kadar was across that sea in that cold land of Scotland, playing at being one of them, the fools, the bright ones. But it would be just a matter of months before he would be here. Nasim had waited five years. He could wait a little longer. Yet an odd eagerness was beginning to replace his rage and desperation. He wanted him here now.

  He felt the power rising within him and he closed his eyes and sent the call forth.

  “Kadar.”

  August 4, 1196

  Montdhu, Scotland

  “She’s being very foolish.” Thea frowned as she watched Selene across the great hall. “I don’t like this, Ware.”

  “Neither does Kadar,” Ware said cheerfully as he took a sip of his wine. “I’m rather enjoying it. It’s interesting to see our cool Kadar disconcerted.”

  “Will it also be interesting if Kadar decides to slaughter that poor man at whom she’s smiling?” Thea asked tartly. “Or Lord Kenneth, who she partnered in the last country dance?”

  “Yes.” He smiled teasingly at her. “It’s been far too peaceful here for the last few years. I could use a little diversion.”

  “Blood and war are not diversions except to warriors like you.” Her frown deepened. “And I thought you very happy here at Montdhu. You did not com plain.”

  He lifted her hand and kissed the palm. “How would I dare with such a termagant of a wife.”

  “Don’t tease. Have you been unhappy?”

  “Only when you robbed me of craftsmen for my castle so that you could have them build a ship for your silk trade.”

  “I needed that ship. What good is it to produce fine silks if you can’t sell them? It wasn’t sensible to—” She shook her head. “You know I was right, and you have your castle now. It’s as fine and strong as you could want. Everyone at the feast tonight has told you they have never seen a more secure fortress.”

  His smile faded. “And we might well have need of our fortress soon.”

  She frowned. “Have you heard news from the Holy Land?”

  He shook his head. “But we walk a fine line, Thea. We’ve been lucky to have these years to prepare.”

  Ware was still looking over his shoulder, Thea thought sadly. Well, who could blame him? They had fled the wrath of the Knights Templar to come to this land, and if the Knights found out that Ware was not dead, as they thought, they would be unrelenting in their persecution. Ware and Thea had almost been captured before their journey started. It had been Kadar who had bargained with Sinan, the head of the assassins, to lend them a ship to take them to Scotland. But that was the past, and Thea would not have Ware moody tonight when he had so much to celebrate.

  “We’re not lucky, we’re intelligent. And the Knights Templar are foolish beyond belief if they think you would betray them. It makes me angry every time I think of it. Now drink your wine and en joy this evening. We’ve made a new life and every thing is fine.”

  He lifted his cup. “Then why are you letting the fact that your sister is smiling prettily at Lord Douglas upset you?”

  “Because Kadar hasn’t taken his eyes off her all evening.” Her gaze returned to her sister. Selene’s pale-gold silk gown made her dark red hair glow with hidden fires, and her green eyes shone with vitality— and recklessness. The little devil knew exactly what she was doing, Thea thought crossly. Selene was impulsive at times, but this was not such an occasion. Her every action tonight was meant to provoke Kadar. “And I didn’t invite the entire countryside to see your splendid new castle so that she could expose them to mayhem.”

  “Tell her. Selene loves you. She won’t want you un happy.”

  “I will.” She rose to her feet and strode down the hall toward the great hearth, before which Selene was holding court. Ware was right: Selene might be willful, but she had a tender heart. She would never intentionally hurt anyone she loved. All Thea had to do was confront her sister, express her distress, and the problem would be solved.

  Maybe.

  “Don’t stop her, Thea.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Kadar behind her. He had been leaning against the far pillar only seconds ago, but she was accustomed to the swift silence of his movements.

  “Stop her?” She smiled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “And don’t lie to me either.” Kadar’s lips tightened. “I’m a little too bad-tempered tonight to deal in pretense.” He took her arm and led her toward the nearest corner of the hall. “And you’ve never done it well. You’re burdened with a pure and honest soul.”

  And I suppose you’re the devil himself.”

 
; He smiled. “Only a disciple.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Well, perhaps only half devil. I’ve never been able to convince you of my sinful character. You never wanted to see that side of me.”

  “You’re kind and generous and our very dear friend.”

  “Oh, yes, which proves what good judgment you have.”

  “And arrogant, stubborn, and with no sense of humility.”

  He inclined his head. “But I’ve the virtue of patience, my lady, which should outweigh all my other vices.”

  “Stop mocking.” She turned to face him. “You’re angry with Selene.”

  “Am I?”

  “You know you are. You’ve been watching her all evening.”

  “And you’ve been watching me.” One side of his lips lifted in a half smile. “I was wondering whether you’d decide to attack me or Selene.”

  “I have no intention of attacking anyone.” She stared directly into his eyes. “Do you?”

  “Not at the moment. I’ve just told you how patient lam.”

  Relief surged through her. “She doesn’t mean any thing. She’s just amusing herself.”

  “She means something.” He glanced back toward the hearth. “She means to torment and hurt me and drive me to the edge.” His tone was without expression. “She does it very well, doesn’t she?”

  “It’s your fault. Why don’t you offer for her? You know Ware and I have wanted the two of you to wed for this past year. Selene is ten and seven. It’s past time she had a husband.”

  “I’m flattered you’d consider a humble bastard like myself worthy of her.”

  “You are not flattered. You know your own worth.”

  “Of course, but the world would say it was a poor match. Selene is a lady of a fine house now.”

  “Only because you helped us escape from the Holy Land and start again. Selene was a slave in the House of Nicholas and only a child when you bought her freedom as a favor to me. She was destined to spend her life embroidering his splendid silks and being given to his customers for their pleasure. You saved her, Kadar. Do you think she would ever look at another man if you let her come close to you?”