The Royals Collection. Rebecca Winters
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run riot. They were stuck here. They hadn’t chosen to be here.
But to be alone with Tyr, when she was never alone with any man apart from her brother? She didn’t know where to look, how to act, where to sit.
Look anywhere except at this man mountain, Jazz concluded. Don’t stare at Tyr’s hard muscled body covered in scars, and wonder how he came by them. Just accept Tyr for who he is, and what he was when you were both younger and could call him a good friend. Don’t stare into Tyr’s shadowed eyes and ache to know his past. Don’t even begin to think of how it felt when he touched you. Concentrate on practical matters instead, like locking down the pavilion together in preparation for the storm, and everything else will sort itself out. She hoped.
It was a relief to have something practical to concentrate on, Jazz reflected as she started to move anything breakable out of danger as the wind battered the sides of the pavilion. She was an observer, and a fantasist who had dreamed about Tyr constantly since she was a teen.
But having him here, brutally male and frighteningly close—
‘Would you mind if I have a piece of fruit to go with my drink, Jazz?’
Well, that sounded like a threat—not. ‘Of course I don’t mind. Help yourself.’
Just because Tyr was worldly and she wasn’t, it didn’t mean he expected anything from her. She’d known him half her life, and Tyr had never done anyone any harm.
Until he became a trained soldier.
Under orders, Jazz reminded herself as she refilled Tyr’s goblet and handed it back to him. She blinked when he reached for the dagger at his belt. She remembered exactly when Sharif had given him the dagger. It was the same deadly curving khanjar her brother wore hanging from his belt. Sharif had said the gift of a dagger bound Tyr and he as close as brothers, and there was no one in the world he trusted more. As if hypnotised, she watched Tyr slice the fruit into slim pieces with that same lethal blade and put some on a plate to tempt her.
‘We could be here for hours, Jazz. You should eat something.’
Hours? One crucial word broke through. How was she going to remain calm and sensible for hours alone with Tyr when her heart was already going crazy?
Jazz accepting the plate of fruit was a turning point. It was a small but significant step towards her relaxing around him. If she couldn’t do that, this was going to be a long night for both of them.
‘Good?’ he prompted as she lifted a sliver of fruit to her lips.
‘Thank you.’
She was so prim, so tense, so frightened of him. This was a new Jazz indeed, though her black eyes and perfectly sculpted features had never seemed more beautiful to him.
‘Why are you staring at me?’ she demanded suspiciously.
‘Am I staring?’
‘You know you are.’
She blushed and turned away, then moved at the same moment he did for a second piece of fruit. As their arms brushed, she took in a swift gulp of air. The jolt to his own senses stunned him. This was crazy. Sheltering from the storm had become an exercise in restraint he hadn’t expected.
Only when Jazz had put half a pavilion’s distance between them did she start talking to him again. ‘I’m glad you’re back, Tyr.’
He stabbed another piece of fruit. ‘Glad I’m back from my travels?’ he enquired, biting the succulent fruit from the tip of the knife. ‘Or glad I’m here?’
‘Both,’ Jazz admitted frankly, hugging herself tight as the wind threatened to tear the roof off the pavilion.
‘So, what do you suggest we do now?’
‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes widened as she stared at him.
He gave a short laugh, but there was no humour in it. ‘Do you tell the emir we spent the night together, or do I?’
‘Do you mind if we talk about something else?’
He shrugged as he refilled his goblet with juice. ‘Whatever you like.’
He began to pace. Inactivity didn’t suit him, but wherever his strides took him in this confined space, it could never be far enough away from Jazz. Wanting her was like a slow burn eating him up inside. ‘Why don’t we start with your plans for the future?’ he suggested.
‘My plans?’
He was instantly alert at the touch of steel in Jazz’s voice. ‘I’m going to continue working at my brother’s racing stables, and I’m going to extend my work with our people. My brother has always wanted me to work for Kareshi. Don’t look at me like that, Tyr. Sharif has always known where my future lay. It just took me a little longer to see the light.’
‘And now you have it all worked out.’
‘Men make plans. Women improve them.’
‘Was I part of your plan?’
‘No,’ she exclaimed, sounding genuinely shocked. ‘And if you think for one moment that I manufactured this insane wedding idea, you’re completely wrong.’
‘All right,’ he placated her. ‘So we know the people of Kareshi love and respect you, and you are right in saying this is where you belong. I’m just not sure that I do long-term, Jazz.’
She was silent for a moment. ‘Do you believe in fate, Tyr?’
He shrugged. ‘Where the hell is this leading us, Jazz?’
‘Bear with me for a moment, Tyr. It’s quite simple. Do you think things happen for a reason? You must do,’ Jazz argued before he could say a word. ‘Look at the evidence. The fall brought me to Wadi village. The storm kept me here. And now—’
‘And now?’ he prompted.
‘And now, apart from the fact that the events of the past couple of days have woken me up so I can see clearly where my future lies, it’s also given me chance to talk to you.’
‘What about?’ He was in no mood for an inquisition, and barriers had snapped around him before he had even finished asking Jazz the question.
‘We’re stuck here, Tyr. You’ve been away a long time. We have lots to talk about.’
Nothing could ever keep Jazz down for long, he remembered. Jazz Kareshi was as complicated as the politics of her country. She had grown up surrounded by intrigue and danger. Forced to negotiate pitfalls and double-dealing since she’d been a very small child, she knew how to survive pretty much anything; even a surprise wedding announcement, it turned out.
‘All right, I’ll start,’ she said. ‘I’m going to live here in Wadi village. At least for the time being.’
‘You’re going to live here?’
‘Why not? I can commute to the stables.’
‘What about your home at the palace?’
‘What’s the point of living in a palace distanced from my people, when I can be here where I can see their problems for myself?’
He couldn’t argue with that. ‘I don’t think Sharif will have any trouble accepting that decision. You know as well as I do that as far as Sharif is concerned, all the pomp and ceremony surrounding his position is just a necessary part of the job. It’s the people of Kareshi that matter most to both of you.’
‘And I can be quite determined when I put my mind to something.’
‘You don’t say,’ he murmured dryly.
‘Where are you going?’ Jazz asked as he turned to go.
‘Back to my own place. And don’t look so worried. I’ll make it safely.’
‘I’m not worried, but it’s your turn now.