'Til the End of Time (18 page)

Sandor nodded as he dropped to his knees. Lord, she was pale. Her long lashes were dark shadows on her cheeks. “She’s unconscious. How bad is it?”

“I have no idea. I’m not a doctor.” Bruner’s lips twisted. “You never should have let her come after me.”

“I didn’t let her,” Sandor said dully. The blood was slowly seeping through her white blouse. “Where the hell is that doctor?”

“She shot Naldona.”

“Did she?” He couldn’t have cared less about Naldona at that moment. Sandor reached out to
stroke the hair away from her face. His gaze suddenly lifted, his eyes blazing fiercely in his pale face. “Who shot her?”

“I don’t know. One of the soldiers who burst in here after she shot Naldona. Does it matter?”

“It matters.” Sandor would get great pleasure from punishing the bastard who had hurt Alessandra. But he couldn’t do that yet. Now he had to concentrate all his energy on saving her.

“More violence,” Bruner said with acid bitterness. “Won’t you ever learn? You’ve nearly killed her. Alessandra hates war and violence, and you’ve caused her to shoot a man. If she lives, how do you think she’s going to feel about that?”

If
she lived. She had to live. Sandor didn’t think he’d be able to exist without her. “I don’t know.” His hand resumed its tender stroking motion at her temple. “I just don’t know.”

He was falling, crumpling to the floor in slow, slow motion. The shot still echoed in her ears and her eyes and her heart as she watched with sick horror. The gun in her hand was terribly heavy, but she couldn’t seem to let it fall. It was stuck to her hand. She didn’t want to hold it. She never wanted to touch a gun again.
“No. Please, no.”

“Shh. It’s all right. You’re fine now.” Sandor’s voice. Sandor’s hand holding tightly to her own.

She opened her eyes. “Sandor?” she whispered. “You’re safe?”

He was sitting on the bed beside her. His deep blue eyes were glittering. “I’m safe,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Bruner’s safe. And so are you. The doctor said your wound isn’t much more than a scratch. The only reason you fainted was exhaustion.” He paused. “And shock.”

Shock. Naldona. “Is Naldona …?”

Sandor’s hand tightened. “Yes.”

She felt the waves of sickness return. “I was afraid he was.”

“Dear heaven, don’t cry. It’s tearing me apart.”

She hadn’t known she was crying, but now she became aware of the tears running slowly down her cheeks. “I’ve never had to do that before.”

“He was a bloodthirsty bastard.” Sandor’s voice was harsh. “Everyone in Tamrovia wants to give you a medal. You’re a national heroine.”

“He was a man.” She closed her eyes wearily. “I didn’t want to do it, Sandor. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know you didn’t. Go back to sleep, love. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Will I?” She doubted if this terrible depression could be alleviated—much less banished—by sleep. But Sandor had said she would feel better, and it must be true. Sandor wouldn’t lie to her. She could trust Sandor.…

“I don’t want to stay in bed,” Alessandra said firmly. “You told me the doctor assured you it was only a very minor flesh wound. I can’t lie in this bed any longer. It will drive me up the wall.”

James chuckled. “Longer? You only regained consciousness two hours ago. I wouldn’t say you’ve been exactly bedfast. The doctor also said you need rest and relaxation.” His smile faded. “And to stay off those feet as much as possible for the next two weeks.”

“I can’t do that.” She sat up in bed, flinching as a hot twinge shot through her side. Why did every
muscle in her body ache, when only her left side had been grazed? “I have to see Sandor.”

“You can’t see him now. He’s in a cabinet meeting. We sent a message to let him know you’d finally decided to wake up.”

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long. Thirty-six hours.” She shook her head. “It’s incredible.”

“Not at all. According to Karpathan, you’ve been driven to the edge of exhaustion. He said the last few days had been a nightmare for you.”

Not all of it had been a nightmare. There had been moments of beauty and warmth and passion. Moments she would remember for the rest of her life. Sandor Karpathan had stepped into her life and transfigured it in every way. “Cabinet meeting? That sounds very official.”

“As official as anything can be with a fledgling government. Sandor has formed a temporary cabinet to set up committees and act as a governing body until a constitution can be drafted and an election held.” He made a face. “I’m surprised the cabinet’s wrangling didn’t awaken you. Karpathan refused to leave you for the first twenty-four hours, so his cabinet set up shop in the sitting room. It seems they decided they couldn’t do without Karpathan. That appears to be the common feeling here in Tamrovia. Everything stops without him.”

“Yes.” She could endorse that viewpoint. Her own world would stop without Sandor. He had stayed with her during a period when the demands on him must have been titanic. She felt the familiar warm radiance begin deep within her. “They love him.”

“And they’re not the only ones.” James’s gaze
was searching her face. “I think you must share the general hysteria. I suppose I should have suspected as much. He was almost out of his mind with worry until the doctor assured him you’d be fine in a few days. It’s very rare for that depth of emotion to exist without reciprocation.”

“I do love him.” The words felt strange and came hesitantly to her lips, but what was there to be hesitant about? He was a man any woman would be proud to love. She lifted her chin. “I’m absolutely mad about Sandor Karpathan.”

“Well, you were never one to do things halfway.” His hand covered hers on the counterpane of the bed. “Does that mean I’m going to have to go to Mariba alone?”

“We’ll work something out. Nothing is settled.” She hadn’t even told Sandor she loved him. She experienced an instant of uncertainty. For that matter, he had made only the most fleeting mention of any lasting emotion to her. No, there hadn’t been any need for words. Sandor had said words weren’t always necessary. The bond between them might be new, but it was very strong. “I have to talk to Sandor.”

“I believe we’ve gone over that ground before.”

“And I’m
not
staying in bed.”

“Alessandra …”

“She is causing you trouble?” Paulo stood in the doorway. “Sandor said she would. He also said we are to keep her in bed until he can make arrangements for her.”

“Arrangements? I don’t need ‘arrangements.’ All I need is for everyone to stop arguing with me.”

“Sandor says you need these arrangements.” Paulo strolled into the room to stand beside the
bed and grin down at her. “Now, why are you being so difficult? Sandor has entrusted me with this mission, and you know I never fail at anything I undertake.”

“This may be the exception to prove the rule. Since when have you accepted such unexciting assignments, Paulo?”

“I decided I owed it to Sandor. I didn’t take as good care of his woman as I might have.”

“Because I was shot? That wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own. It was my decision to go alone. You wanted to come with me.”

Paulo shook his head. “Not because you were shot.” His gaze was reproachful. “You didn’t tell me about your feet. If you’d complained, I would have found a way to help you on our trip from the airfield. Sandor was very angry I had let you walk that distance.”

“Let?”

He chuckled, and inclined his head in a half bow. “My apologies. Just then you sounded like my sister, Marna. I’m not fool enough to think a woman can’t equal a man, but any person has to be taken care of when she or he is hurt.” His smile vanished. “Now, let us be sensible. Sandor has many claims on his time right now. You may have slept for the last thirty-six hours, but he has not. I don’t think he’s snatched more than a few hours since the assault on Belajo began. He’s very tired. He’s been dividing his time between watching over you and establishing his government. If you insist on getting up, I’ll have to tell him, and he will break off his meeting to come and argue with you, which means he will have to go back to the
meeting later instead of resting. Do you want that?”

She frowned. “No, of course not.”

“Then why not stay quietly in bed this afternoon and let him make his arrangements? In a few hours I will send a maid to help you with your bath and make you beautiful for him.”

Dear heaven, she hadn’t given a thought to how she looked. Even at her best, she was no beauty, and she was definitely not at her best now. She probably appeared as worn and frazzled as an old army boot. “I suppose I’m not very presentable.”

Neither James nor Paulo answered, but their silence spoke volumes.

“Oh, very well.” She sighed. “When are these ‘arrangements’ supposed to be set?”

“This evening. Sandor said he would be pleased if you would dine with him in the grand ballroom.”

“The grand ballroom?” she repeated. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

Paulo nodded.

“Is it a party?”

Paulo shrugged. “He didn’t say. I don’t think so. He wouldn’t want to tire you.” He turned to leave. “I will go and arrange for the maid.” He glanced pointedly at James. “It would be best if she rested now.”

James rose hurriedly to his feet. “Yes, of course. I’ll come to see you later, Alessandra.” He followed Paulo to the door and paused to glance back and smile at her. “I doubt if I’m invited to your party. I have an idea Karpathan has a very private affair in mind this evening.” He closed the door quietly behind him.

She hoped it was private. The only person she
wanted to see tonight was Sandor. But the grand ballroom? Perhaps it was some belated victory celebration. She slowly settled back in the bed and tried to relax. It wasn’t easy. She wanted to see Sandor, touch him, talk to him. She was feeling terribly isolated. They had grown so close in their time together, she hadn’t realized how lonely she would be when separated from him. Unfortunately, everyone in Tamrovia seemed to feel the same way.

And she didn’t want to be alone now. She didn’t want to have to think of that moment when she’d had to pull the trigger and seen Naldona fall to the floor. It had been too horrible to accept. But she had to accept it. She had taken a life. If she hadn’t taken that life, others would have died. Still, she wished with all her heart that she hadn’t been the one to have to do it. She closed her eyes. Perhaps it was better she had this time alone Since she had awakened, she had flinched away from thinking of what she had done. Now she had to face it and come to terms with it. She had faced many ugly shadows in her life, and this might be the ugliest one of all. Nevertheless, the shadow had to be confronted. She would lie here and try to nerve herself to confront what she had done.

The small, dark-skinned maid, who arrived in her suite a few hours later and identified herself as Bette, had obviously been given very explicit instructions. Alessandra was helped carefully into the bathroom, where she was bathed and her hair was shampooed and dried. Then she was wrapped
in a bath sheet, transferred to the Queen Anne chair in the bedroom, and was manicured and pedicured. Her hair was curled and then brushed out to fall down her back in a shimmering flow of rich brown silk. Ordinarily, Bette’s solemn determination to turn her into a pampered beauty would have amused and then exasperated Alessandra. However, she was still sore and weak enough to sit back and enjoy the cosseting.

“Makeup,” Bette announced firmly. When it had been duly applied, the maid stood back and observed her critically. “Now you are beautiful.”

“Not unless you’re a sorceress,” Alessandra said dryly. “There’s only so much soap and paint can do. It’s almost seven. I guess I might as well dress. The white gown will be fine.”

“No, the Tanzar will send you what he wishes you to wear. You sit back and rest.”

Sandor’s “arrangements” covered attire as well, it seemed.

The gown was delivered ten minutes later. When Bette returned from answering the door, she was carefully carrying a garment that was a splash of magnificent color and fabric. The jade green of the brocade shimmered in the lamplight as if it were alive.

“Beautiful,” Alessandra whispered. “I’ve never seen a gown so beautiful.”

But she found it wasn’t a gown at all. The garment proved to be a robe, full and flowing, with a high mandarin collar and wide sleeves. The robe itself was gloriously extravagant, and she felt absolutely royal as she slipped it on. Royal and confident and … treasured. She was still gazing
bemusedly at herself in the mirror when another knock sounded. Paulo.

She turned to face him. “I feel as if I’ve been groomed to be the concubine of Kubla Khan.”

“It’s funny you should say that.” Paulo’s eyes were dancing. “You must have the power to see what others do not. My sister has such a power. Come, it’s time.” He scooped her up in his arms. “Now, do not protest. Sandor said you must not walk.” He nodded to the maid to open the door. “I promise I will carry you only until we get to the foyer.”

The reason for Paulo’s amusement was at the bottom of the stairs, sitting squarely in the huge foyer.

“A ricksha.” Alessandra couldn’t believe it. Not just an ordinary ricksha, but a vehicle as extravagant as the robe she was wearing. The edge of the seat and the back of the ricksha were garlanded with gardenias and tuberoses, the wheels spoked with gold and studded with jade and amber. Standing beside it was a tall, powerful man in a scarlet uniform with gold braid. “But how did Sandor do it? There wasn’t enough time.”

“Everyone in Tamrovia is crazy to please Sandor. He only had to ask.” Paulo sat her on the seat of the ricksha and motioned to the majordomo. One finger touched her cheek affectionately. “Joy.” He stepped back.

The wheels of the ricksha had rubber rims, and the vehicle moved silently through the foyer and down the halls. Alessandra passed several soldiers standing at attention who were trying with some difficulty to repress their smiles. She didn’t blame them. This entire scenario was completely outrageous.
She didn’t know whether to be more amused or touched.