Page 3 of Til the End of Time

  "Knowledge is always a key. Haven't you found that to be true?" His gaze flickered to the lump beneath the covers. "I take it that's a decoy be­neath the covers, and not Bruner?"

  She nodded curtly.

  "I didn't think you'd risk having anything hap­pen to him. Did he complain when you ousted him from your bed?" He turned on a small lamp.

  Smiling faintly, he took a step forward and knelt beside the unconscious man. He lifted the man's eyelid. "I assure you I would have done considera­bly more than complain. I would have made it totally impossible. How long has it been since you've had a lover under sixty?"

  Bewildered, she stared at him. The leashed vio­lence beneath his words caught her off guard. He seemed more concerned with her sexual habits than with the condition of the unconscious man he was examining with such cool detachment.

  "That's none of your business, is it?"

  "Isn't it?" He released the man's eyelid. "You're quite a lethal lady. I wasn't sure you hadn't elimi­nated him permanently."

  "I'm not as cold-blooded as you. I was only de­fending myself." She watched Sander take the braided cord and swiftly tied the man's hands behind his back. "But this should allay any ap­prehension you might have had about my defend­ing myself. You can leave me to my own devices with a clear conscience. Day after tomorrow I'll be out of Tamrovia and you can go back to your little gam—" She broke off as she caught his menacing gaze. She shrugged, and said instead, "Your revolution."

  "Naldona's goons won't be taken off guard again. The danger hasn't lessened because you've won the first round." He sat back on his heels. "Look, promise me you'll leave before dawn this morning and I'll remove myself from the scene. Fontaine can provide enough security for that length of time. I doubt if there'll be another attempt on you before then."

  She hesitated and then slowly shook her head.

  "It's too soon. I have something very important to do before I leave Belajo."

  His gaze became speculative. "I suppose you wouldn't care to tell me what that 'something' is?"

  She shook her head.

  "I didn't think so. I have an idea you're a multi­dimensional woman, Alessandra." His gaze held the faintest touch of mischief as it rested on the full thrust of her breasts beneath the white chif­fon of her gown. "And I'm looking forward to fa­miliarizing myself with every aspect of those dimensions." He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a snub-nosed pistol and pointed it at her. "I tried to avoid this. You're an exceptionally determined woman. It's a quality I admire, but it does get in the way."

  She went very still. "Choices again, Karpathan?"

  "Not such a traumatic one this time. The gun is equipped with a silencer, and all I have to do is inflict a slight wound to encourage your coopera­tion."

  "Cooperation?"

  He nodded. "First you're going to write a note to Bruner explaining the situation and then you're going to accompany me out of the palace and eventually out of Belajo." His expression hardened. "I told you I couldn't allow you to have your own way in this. There's too much at stake."

  "You could be bluffing."

  He smiled mirthlessly. "Do you think I am?"

  No. She didn't think so. She doubted if Kar­pathan ever made a threat he wasn't prepared to back up with action. "It won't do you any good. I'm not going to submit meekly, you know. I'll escape. You're not going to get away with this, Karpathan."

  "Taking into consideration your rather unique personality, you're probably right." His smile was self-mocking. "I may have bitten off more than I can chew."

  "You're damn right you have."

  "Still, it may give me the time I need." He made a motion with the gun. "We'll be traveling through rough country. Your gown is lovely, but not ex­actly appropriate. Change your clothes."

  Her eyes widened. "In front of you?"

  "I'm hardly going to turn my back. I've seen how efficient you can be in a rear attack." He rose to his feet and stood with easy grace. "I realize you're not experienced with younger men, but I assure you we don't go mad with lust at the sight of a naked woman."

  He noted her expression of smoldering resent­ment again. Odd, he thought.

  "I didn't think you would," she said acidly. "I'm sure I've nothing new to show you. I was just surprised." She turned and walked to the antique armoire across the room. "Enjoy yourself, Kar­pathan. "

  He lifted a brow. "Thank you. I intend to." He dropped into the chair beside the bed. "Terroriz­ing young women into impromptu stripteases is what this revolution is all about. I can't tell you how I enjoy this aspect of my 'game,' Alessandra."

  She had clearly struck a nerve by using that term to describe his cause. He wasn't even both­ering to disguise the bitterness in his tone. Good. Perhaps if he found her presence abrasive enough he'd be willing to release her. She quickly pulled out a pair of jeans and a tailored shirt from the armoire. "No striptease. I'm hardly the type. You'll have to be satisfied with speed."

  Satisfied. There was nothing in the least satis­fied about the way he was feeling at the moment, Sandor thought. He tried to keep his expression inscrutable as he watched her pull the chiffon gown over her head and toss it on the bed. Dear heaven, she had wonderful skin. The lush ripe­ness of it glowed in the lamplight, and his palms ached to touch her. Hell, that wasn't the only part of his anatomy aching. He unconsciously moist­ened his lips as his eyes fixed on her high, full breasts, spilling out of the half bra. With an effort he pulled his gaze away, and found it wandering down to her flat stomach, girdled by a lacy garter belt. "Why do you wear one of those?" he asked suddenly. He nodded to the garters she was un­fastening. "You impress me as a no-nonsense woman. I would have thought you'd have pre­ferred pantyhose."

  She could feel the color rise to her cheeks as she lowered her lashes to veil her eyes. "I like the feeling of freedom it gives me," she said curtly. "I hate to feel confined. Not that it's any of your—"

  "Business," he finished for her. "I appear to be trespassing again. Sorry. I was just curious." He was also curious about the blush that had briefly touched her cheeks. For a moment Alessandra's bold confidence had vanished and she'd reminded him of an uncertain young girl. His eyes were suddenly dancing with mischief. "I thoroughly ap­prove, by the way. There's nothing more allur­ing." His gaze traveled down her long, silken legs. He repeated softly, "Absolutely nothing." He looked up and caught another glimpse of wild rose color on her cheeks.

  Her brow knitted in a scowl, and he heard her mutter something definitely suspect beneath her breath. He smothered a smile as he felt a sudden surge of tenderness. The fierce tigress looked more like a cross little girl as she yanked down her stockings and tossed them on the bed with the gown.

  She pulled on her jeans and a peach-colored blouse with swift, jerky movements. She closed the first three buttons of the blouse and stuffed the tails carelessly into the waistband of her jeans. Then she thrust her bare feet into white tennis shoes.

  Sandor shook his head. "Socks."

  She looked up. "What?"

  "Put on thick socks. We have a good deal of walking to do once we reach the hills, and you might as well be comfortable."

  "Walking?" She repeated the word with horror. She drew herself up to her full, majestic height. "I do not walk, Karpathan. Try to force me and you'll find yourself carrying me." Her eyes narrowed to gleaming slits. "And I'm no feather."

  "We'll see," he said. "Socks'."

  Her glance should have shriveled him on the spot. Instead it only provoked an annoyingly enig­matic smile. She turned and went over to the chest and took out a pair of white socks. "Is that all?"

  He shook his head. "Your passport and an extra set of clothes." He stood up and strolled over to the armoire. He pulled out a small canvas over­night case and threw it on the bed. "Use this to pack them in. I'll get Jannot to find you some­thing more portable when we get to the cafe."

  "I won't need them. I told you I won't let you hold me. When I leave the countr
y it will be my choice. You should understand that, Karpathan. You're very high on choices."

  "Pack it anyway," he said, and smiled amicably. He motioned with the gun. "To please me." He watched quietly as she packed the items he'd des­ignated. "Thank you. Now write the note."

  She sat down at the vanity and scrawled a few lines on a piece of notepaper. She stood up and handed him the note. "Satisfied?"

  He scanned it quickly. "Very reassuring. You obviously didn't want to worry the old boy. Now I think we'd better leave." He glanced at the still-unconscious figure of her attacker. "You must have given him quite a wallop. He's still out."

  "I'll be glad to demonstrate." She strode toward the door. "Coming?"

  His lips twitched with amusement. The lady knew all the psychological ploys needed to take command of a situation. He was now put in the position of having to hurry to keep up with his captive. "I'm right behind you," he said dryly, "which I'm sure fills you with the greatest plea­sure." He caught up with her in the middle of the sitting room as she was heading for the door leading to the hall. He put his hand on her arm. "No, not that way." He nodded to the solid wall of built-in bookshelves across the room. "There. Wait here while I slip this note under Bruner's door."

  That took less than a minute, and then he was striding quickly toward the wall he'd indicated.

  Alessandra frowned in puzzlement as she slowly followed him across the room and watched as he twisted one of the candelabra on the wall by the bookshelves. The entire wall swiveled open, re­vealing a dark, narrow opening. "A secret passage?"

  "After you." He inclined his head mockingly and stood aside for her to precede him. "It was a fan­tastic piece of luck you were quartered in Kira's room. I wasn't looking forward to negotiating those corridors and then possibly finding Naldona had set up his quarters here."

  "Kira?" She cast him a startled glance. "This was Kira Rubinoffs suite? But then, how did you know about the secret pass—" She broke off. She had seen photographs of the former Princess Kira Rubinoff, who was now the wife of billionaire Zack Damon. Sandor Karpathan possessed more sex­ual magnetism than any man she had ever met. It was fairly obvious why two such attractive individ­uals would have been drawn to each other. "Never mind. It's none of my affair."

  "You're quite right, and it wasn't mine either." He added emphatically, "Kira is my cousin and my very good friend. When you leave Tamrovia I'll be very displeased if you spread unpleasant gos­sip regarding this particular entrance to her suite. So displeased, I might decide to follow you and make my displeasure known."

  "Really?" For a moment she was tempted to use the weapon he had put in her hands. Then she shrugged and preceded him into the passageway. "Don't worry, Karpathan, I don't play that way. My fight is with you, not with some poor, gullible woman you lured into your bed."

  He suddenly chuckled. "Her husband would be very amused to hear your description of Kira." He twisted a sconce on the stone wall of the passage and the wall swung shut, leaving them in dark­ness. "No one lures Kira anywhere. She's almost as determined as you."

  She was beginning to believe Karpathan could lure any woman into any indiscretion. She was experiencing a wildly sensual response to him her­self, and they had been in a constant state of antagonism since the moment they had first met. Even now, in the darkness, she was conscious of the heat emanating from his lean, hard body, and his clean, woodsy scent seemed to be all around her. Though they were standing at least a foot apart, she felt as if he were touching her. The sensation was so strong, she felt a frisson of panic run through her. "It's dark." Her voice sounded breathless, and she steadied it with an effort. "Are we going to stand here all night?"

  He was silent a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was harsh. "No."

  She detected a movement beside her, and then the slender beam of a penlight pierced the dark­ness. His expression was grim, and his eyes . . . She looked away hurriedly. She didn't want to know what his eyes were saying. It was too close to what she was feeling. She moistened her lower lip with her tongue. "That's better."

  "Is it? I think it's getting worse all the time." He pulled his gaze away and took her elbow. "Come on, there's a flight of stairs just ahead. Then the passage winds past the ballroom and the dun­geons and exits in a cave in the woods across from the front gate." He thrust the pistol into his pocket. "My men are waiting there with a car to take us to Jannot's cafe."

  He had mentioned that name before. "Who is this Jannot?"

  "Danilo Jannot, head of the underground resis­tance forces. He's a good man." His hand on her arm was warm and disturbing. "He owns a small cafe on the outskirts of the city. His network has managed to free a hell of a lot of people from Naldona's prisons." He glanced down at her with a sardonic smile. "He plays our 'game' exception­ally well. With luck he might even be able to get us through the city gates without being shot by the perimeter guards."

  "It's not too late. You could still let me go. I promise I'll be nothing but trouble for you." She was experiencing a spiraling sense of panic again. She didn't want to go with him. For the first time in years, her emotions were in a* state of chaos. She thought she had gotten to a point where she couldn't be reached, where she was totally in con­trol. Yet Karpathan had managed to topple her defenses with no effort at all. Sex. It had to be only a powerful physical attraction. She grasped and held on tight to the thought. She repeated urgently, "It's not too late."

  She was wrong. Sandor had a gut feeling it was very much too late. In the short time he'd been with Alessandra Ballard, she had managed to arouse lust, anger, amusement, and a fierce sense of his need to protect her. He wasn't sure if he would have let her go now even if his original reason for taking her had disappeared. His hand tightened on her arm in unconscious possession. He had given up practically everything he valued in these hellish years. Didn't he deserve some­thing for himself? Whether he did or not, he knew he was going to take it. He stared straight ahead so she wouldn't see the sudden glint of resolution in his eyes. "Your notion of whether or not it's too late is entirely a matter of perspective." He pro­pelled her gently but inexorably forward into the darkness. "Watch your step. These stairs are steep."

  "Any trouble?" Danilo Jannot carefully closed the door behind them and turned the lock. His gaze raked over Alessandra. "Miss Ballard? I'm glad to see you're still in good health. I wasn't sure Sandor would be able to rescue you before Naldona—"

  "Wait." Sandor held up his hand to stem Jannot's flow of words. "She doesn't regard it as a rescue, Danilo. According to her, it's more in the line of interference." He grinned. "And there wasn't any trouble, because the lady already had Naldona's hit man garroted and unconscious as I appeared on the scene."

  Jannot grinned. "Perhaps we should recruit her, eh, Sandor?"

  Sandor shook his head. "Miss Ballard prefers Mr. Bruner's 'games' to ours, Jannot. I guess we're going to have to work on changing her mind."

  "Miss Ballard is becoming very irritated at being spoken of as if she weren't here." Alessandra pro­nounced every word with precision. "As well as being abducted and having her life put in danger."

  Sandor's eyes twinkled. "You've listed your ob­jections in a rather unusual order of importance. Which do you regard as the most heinous crime?

  1 assure you I couldn't be more conscious of your physical presence."

  Jannot chuckled, and Alessandra felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Dammit, why did everything Karpathan say or do have such an effect on her? She was sure she hadn't blushed in all the years before he'd come into her life.

  "She wasn't willing to come with you?" Jannot's smile faded. "Shall I put a guard on her? It's not safe to start you on your way until almost dawn."

  "That won't be necessary. I'd hate to put anyone else in the line of fire." He met her gaze. There was something in his eyes at odds with the light­ness of his tone. "I feel she's my personal respon­sibility."

  Jannot shrugged. "Whatever you say. You have another five or six hou
rs before I can move you. You'd better take her down to the cellar to wait."

  Six hours alone with him in the intimacy of a cellar? "Couldn't I stay up here?" she asked quickly. "I've already been dragged through a secret pas­sage, a dungeon, and a cave tonight. I think I'd prefer to remain topside."

  "It's not safe. Not for you, and certainly not for Sandor. He's taken too many risks already for you."

  For me?" Her eyes kindled with indignation.

  But when she opened her lips, Sandor's voice quickly cut across her protest. "Jannot is right. You'll be safer downstairs." He took her canvas

  overnight bag and handed it to Jannot. "She'll need a backpack and a slicker."

  "I'll see to it." Jannot turned away. "Try to get some sleep. There's no telling how long you will

  have to stay in the labone if Naldona puts on additional guards."

  "Labone?" Alessandra asked warily.

  "It's a Tamrovian word. It means . . ." Sandor's words trailed off, and a slight smile tugged at his lips. "On second thought, I believe I'll let you dis­cover for yourself. I think I'm mired deeply enough in your bad graces at the moment." He gestured for her to precede him. "I promise you won't find Jannot's cellar too unpleasant."

  When Sandor pulled the cord of the overhead light in the cellar a few moments later, she was relieved to discover he was right. The small room was devoid of furniture except for the narrow sin­gle bed in the alcove formed by the stairs. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shelves containing jars filled with everything from horse­radish to spices. The cellar was neither damp, cobwebbed, nor rat-infested, and the entire area was scrupulously clean. The concrete floor was scrubbed, and the air, though close, smelled deli-ciously of the spices that lined the shelves in large, squat jars.

  "Surprised?" Sandor asked.

  Alessandra nodded. "And relieved. I didn't par­ticularly care for our stroll through the secret pas­sage. " She wrinkled her nose distastefully. "A rat ran across my foot when we were going through the dungeon."