The Royals Collection. Rebecca Winters
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about the irony of Sharif finishing their conversation by begging him to be kind to Jazz when he didn’t know any other way to be with her. But Sharif had only seen him at his most brutal recently, Tyr reflected. They might call him a hero and pin a medal on his chest, but he could never imagine bringing new life into such a violent world, and Jazz deserved children.
Swinging out of bed, he paced the floor. Who was he to ruin Jazz’s life? He had asked Sharif this same question, only to have Sharif insist that marriage to Jazz might turn out to be the best thing that had ever happened to him, if Tyr would give it only half a chance. But he couldn’t bear to see the hurt in her eyes when Jazz finally understood how easy it was for him to close off from all human emotion. And if he were ever selfish enough to wrap his arms around her, he would never let her go. Right now he’d settled for the easy friendship they used to share, though it seemed to him that any type of relationship with Jazz beyond a formal contract of marriage had finally slipped out of his grasp.
* * *
In spite of all her misgivings, Jazz couldn’t help but be touched by the amount of effort the villagers were putting into making her wedding day special. She was hyperventilating most of the time at the thought of becoming Tyr’s bride. It was amazing how she could cut out all the bits about this being a forced wedding and just think about being married to Tyr. Not that this fantasy version of events was something she could share with him. Fortunately, she didn’t have to, as Tyr was careful to keep his distance. There wasn’t much time before Sharif arrived to give his blessing, so everyone was rushing to put everything in place.
There was just one spoiler. As she toyed with a veil of the finest Chantilly lace, Jazz shivered as she thought about her wedding night with Tyr.
And Tyr? How must he be feeling?
Probably repulsed at the thought of sleeping with her?
She would almost prefer that, Jazz realised. It would lift her most pressing concern away: the wedding night. Perhaps they could come to some sort of mutual arrangement. Separate beds? Sleeping with a friend was totally weird by any standards. Surely Tyr would agree with that? She had a total blind spot when it came to sex. She didn’t have a clue, except for what she’d read or overheard. Vowing to remain chaste until marriage hadn’t been too big a sacrifice when she only had hair-raising gossip about the wedding night to go on. She’d always been chaste and had had no plans to change the status quo.
Until now.
Putting the veil aside before she ruined it, she took a deep breath. Calm down! If she carried on like this she would be a gibbering wreck by the time she stood beside Tyr at the ceremony.
Would he even turn up?
The thought that he might not chilled her. The thought that he would led immediately back to their wedding night. She had to try to concentrate on the fact that Sharif and Tyr’s sisters and their husbands would be arriving soon, or she would never be able to go through with this. Sharif had delivered his itinerary in one of his customarily brusque texts:
Prepare for full contingent of family members arriving to celebrate with Wadi villagers tomorrow night.
Sharif hadn’t mentioned celebrating with his sister. Jazz gathered that Sharif had nothing to say to her of a celebratory nature. And who could blame him? She’d pressed for marriage negotiations with the Emir of Qadar and then she’d changed her mind, only to hit him with the bombshell that she was going to marry Tyr Skavanga. All in all, Sharif was being quite restrained.
For now.
JAZZ WAS OUT of bed at dawn and pacing restlessly. Her wedding day. Her marriage to Tyr! She couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to believe it. Britt had texted to confirm the Skavanga sisters were on their way, so that was a relief at least. Having the Skavanga sisters onside equalled having the best support team ever in her corner. She had nothing to worry about, Jazz told herself firmly.
Except her wedding night tonight with Tyr.
Tonight was a long way off.
And Sharif?
She wasn’t going to think about her brother now.
And if Tyr didn’t turn up?
What if he left her to stew with all the wedding arrangements made and her family arriving? How many people would she let down then? And her heart would break. She loved Tyr. She had always loved Tyr, and even if this wedding was a sham, she was as excited at the prospect as any bride. She could weave a thousand fantasies about marrying Tyr Skavanga, but nothing could compare with the real thing, just so long as she didn’t think too much about the future. But would he turn up? Tyr was an adventurer by nature, always seeking the next horizon. Maybe he’d already left Kareshi. Tyr was loyal to her brother, but he was his own man—and, as Tyr had said, did she really know him now? The days of reading him easily were long gone.
The women of the village distracted her from her mixed-up thoughts. She could hear them gathering outside the pavilion, waiting impatiently for the moment when she invited them in so they could prepare her for her wedding day. It was hard not to be swept away by their enthusiasm as they crowded into the pavilion.
She could do this! So long as she stuck to her original plan to ask nothing of Tyr.
But what would he ask of her?
Apprehension fluttered through Jazz at the thought that whatever Tyr expected on their wedding night, she could only disappoint him. But when she tried to imagine Tyr touching her, Tyr’s hands on her body, Tyr, the master of pleasure...
Something of this excitement must have shown on her flushed face. The women had started giggling behind their hands, as if they knew what she was thinking. It was a relief to submit to the beauty treatments they had prepared for her and hope they would soon drop the subject, but it wasn’t long before they returned to their favourite topic.
‘But it won’t be a proper wedding night,’ Jazz was horrified to hear herself blurt out.
‘Who says it won’t be a proper wedding night?’
‘Britt!’
Leaping off the cushions, she threw her arms around all three Skavanga sisters as they moved in for a group hug. Now she felt better. And worse. Better because three women she was coming to love had arrived, and worse because she hated deceiving them.
‘Why are you crying?’ Eva demanded in her no-nonsense way. ‘Do you want red, puffy eyes? This is supposed to be a happy time.’ This was followed by a big sigh and worried glances Eva exchanged with her sisters.
If her eyes weren’t puffy before, they were now. Jazz bit back a laugh as Eva mopped her face vigorously with the sleeve of her rough cambric shirt.
‘Enough!’ Leila winked at Jazz. ‘We’re not here to administer exfoliation. We’re here to act as cheerleaders for the bride.’
Having nudged Eva out of the way, Leila put her arm around Jazz’s shoulders. ‘Everyone gets emotional on their wedding day, and we couldn’t be happier that you are taking our brother off our hands. So don’t worry about it, because we’re all here to help.’
But nothing got past Tyr’s oldest sister. Britt was staring at Jazz with concern, having sensed in a nanosecond that all was not well with the blushing bride, though to her credit, Britt kept those thoughts to herself.
The sun was already blazing like a merciless brand in a cloudless blue sky as they got down to some serious wedding preparations. Why did time pass so quickly when you wanted it to drag? She wanted this. She didn’t want this. She was far too tense to enjoy the moment. She longed to confess everything to Tyr’s sisters and seek advice, but she could hardly do that. She couldn’t even be certain that she hadn’t driven Tyr away again. And how would his sisters feel about that, when they’d only just got him