'Til the End of Time Read Free

day. But no longer.”
    “No longer,” she agreed. She wrinkled her nose. “Now I guess we’d better put in an appearance at that blasted cocktail party. Am I presentable?”
    He frowned. “Barely. The gown you’re wearing must be five years old. We’ll have to stop in Paris on our way home and do some shopping.”
    “If we have time,” she said with a grin. “I don’t know why you insist on trying to make me into a lady of fashion, James. I’d think by now you’d realize what a rough diamond you’ve acquired.”
    “Just hardheaded, I guess.”
    “You’ll have to accept the fact you’ve polished this particular diamond to its highest luster and leave it at that.” Her smile softened to gentleness. “You have to remember what raw material you were given to work with.”
    His expression of mocking amusement faded to be replaced by pain. “I do remember. I’ll always remember, Alessandra.”
    She felt a swift surge of remorse. Dammit, she should have chosen her words more carefully. She knew the burden of guilt James carried every dayof his life. She quickly lowered her lashes to veil her eyes. “Perhaps I will let you buy me a new gown. I wouldn’t want you to be ashamed of me in Mariba.”
    “Mariba?” Surprise replaced the pain in James’s face. “Where the hell is Mariba?”
    “It’s the capital of an island in the Caribbean called Castellano. I’ve done some research, and I think that most likely it will be our next stop. The government there is on a par with Naldona’s regime as far as oppression is concerned.”
    He chuckled and slowly shook his head. “You’re always one step ahead of me. Do you suppose we could go home for a few days first, so I can see if I still have a factory?”
    The shadow was gone from his face, thank heavens. “I don’t see why not. I believe I can fit it into our schedule.” Her long lashes lifted to reveal dark eyes dancing with mischief. “Provided we skip our visit to Dior and St. Laurent.”
    James chuckled, and he suddenly looked a good decade younger than his sixty-seven years. “We’ll discuss it.”
    “Of course we will. Haven’t I always been a reasonable woman?”
    “When your determination doesn’t get in the way,” James said dryly. “Then reason doesn’t stand a chance.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “You’re right, we’d better get going. It’s almost seven-thirty, and we wouldn’t want to make Naldona impatient. He’s going to be difficult enough to handle without a fit of temper to contend with.”
    She fell into step with him as they left the bedroom and crossed the sitting room toward the door leading to the hall. “Those fanatical eyes ofNaldona’s remind me of that picture of Lenin on display all over the Kremlin.”
    “His eyes aren’t the only thing about him reminiscent of Lenin. His politics fit quite nicely into a Bolshevik niche.” James frowned. “I’ll be glad as hell to get away from here. Tamrovia may have a certain Balkan charm, but when it gets down to basics, civil war is a dirty business whether it’s in Tamrovia or Guatemala.” He stopped, his expression clouding again. He added in a tone just above a whisper, “Or Said Ababa.”
    Her hand tightened on his arm. “But we’re not in Said Ababa now. That’s finished. In the past.” Her gaze held his with compulsive force. “And what happened there is finished too. There are only places like Tamrovia and Mariba and what we can do here and now.” She drew a deep breath and deliberately loosened her tense grip on his sleeve. “And what we can do at the moment is smile and be perfectly charming to Marc Naldona.” She suited action to her words and fixed a brilliant smile on her lips. “Shall we do that, James?”
    He touched her cheek with an affectionate forefinger. “Yes, we’ll do that.” He grimaced as he opened the door. “After you, my dear.”
    Alessandra found her smile becoming increasingly strained as she circulated among the