the occasion. It was caparisoned with handwoven wedding finery, heavily embroidered with silver thread and tinkling bells, and its swaying gait would announce Jazz’s arrival long before Tyr could see her. A collective sigh rippled through the waiting crowd as Jazz drew close to the wedding arbour, which had been decorated with colourful desert flowers. Some of the villagers had climbed up the palm trees to catch a better view of her, and she waved and smiled to them, wishing she could live out their fantasies for her with Tyr.
Tyr. Surely he’d turned up, or someone would have stopped the wedding procession, wouldn’t they?
Her gaze found him immediately and relief flooded through her, swiftly followed by the most excitement yet. Dressed in a plain white robe that outlined his impressive frame, Tyr was the only person not looking at her when she arrived. He didn’t even glance her way when the boy leading her camel gave it the instruction to kneel, and then helped her to dismount. Perhaps Tyr had persuaded himself that if he didn’t look at her, he could preserve the illusion that this was just a bad dream.
And then he turned and it was as if the air had been sucked from her lungs. The look he gave her was devastating. She could almost convince herself that Tyr really did want to marry her.
A great roar rose from the crowd as Sharif left Tyr’s side to escort Jazz under the wedding arbour.
‘Brother.’ Dipping into a low curtsy brought on another loud cheer.
‘You look very beautiful, Jasmina,’ Sharif commented as he brought her to her feet in front of him.
Jazz met her brother’s keen stare steadily. Everything was going to be all right. She had to believe that, though she couldn’t help wondering what the two men had been discussing during their ride. It was too late to ask Sharif now, and she could only be grateful to Britt for smiling reassurance at her as Sharif gave Jazz’s hand into Tyr’s keeping.
SOMETHING HAPPENED WHILE she was standing beneath the wedding arbour alongside Tyr. The turmoil inside her settled and she was filled with a deep sense of calm. Tyr was so strong and true, it was hard not to react that way to him. And he was as passionate and as committed to Kareshi as she was. And though he hadn’t wanted this marriage, she had been a fool to doubt he would turn up. Tyr would never flinch from duty any more than she would.
But forget duty. She loved him. She loved Tyr with all her heart, Jazz thought as she stared up at the magnificent Viking at her side. She had always loved Tyr and she always would.
‘Do you take this man...?’
‘Yes.’ Her answer was unhesitating.
‘Do you take this woman...?’
‘I do.’
Tyr’s voice was firm and low and measured. It was the type of voice that inspired confidence. And it did, inside her. Was she fooling herself? She hoped not, for, against all the odds, she sensed they both knew that what they were doing was right.
Loveless, maybe, but right, Jazz told herself as the formal part of the ceremony drew to a respectful close, and Tyr, who was now her husband, led her carefully down the steps.
* * *
Could anything be more romantic? If the night sky had been magical, surely the setting for their wedding feast could not have been more beautiful? The temperature was perfect with just the slightest breeze to play with Jazz’s veil. She was seated alongside Tyr on a bank of silken cushions arranged on a priceless rug. They were seated well apart in accordance with tradition, and they hadn’t spoken a word to each other since exchanging their vows. This was the expected behaviour of a new bride and groom in Kareshi, but Tyr had certainly taken to the detachment with ease. He was unemotional to a fault, his expression composed, but distant. Until he turned to her and her stomach lurched.
‘Would you care for some fruit, or some Arabian coffee?’
She tried to detect some warmth in his voice, but it was the same neutral tone Tyr had used throughout the wedding ceremony. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, Jazz reminded herself, every bit as much as any marriage she might have made to a stranger. She accepted fruit and coffee, knowing she’d taste neither. A young boy stood beside her, waiting to peel the fruit for the bride, should she wish him to, but neither he nor Tyr spoke another word to her, not even when she thanked the boy for filling her jewelled goblet with juice.
She was invisible. She should have been used to this public treatment of a royal princess of Kareshi, but her country’s traditions had never seemed quite so draconian before. Because she had dreamed of laughter and intimate glances on her wedding day, secret smiles and potent stares connecting. She’d been to weddings where the fingertips of the bride and groom had touched briefly. Accidentally on purpose, Jazz had always thought, and the air around the newly married couple had sizzled with expectation and suppressed passion. That was what she had dreamed of for her wedding day.
Was it a dream too far? she wondered, risking a glance at Tyr. For all the attention this groom was paying his bride, she might as well have married the Emir of Qadar.
No!
This was nothing like marrying the Emir of Qadar. If she’d married the emir, she would only ever have been able to look at Kareshi over her shoulder. This was infinitely preferable to that. And Tyr was a prince in every respect. Tyr inspired people. Tyr got things done. Tyr was the love of her life. If only this could have been the fairy-tale wedding of her dreams, they might have accomplished so much together.
This was not a fairy-tale wedding and she would not deceive herself into believing it was. She hated deceiving everyone else, for as lovely as they’d made this evening for her, she couldn’t wait for it to end so she could be alone with Tyr, and they could sort this out.
Alone with Tyr?
Jazz’s mouth dried at the prospect as she glanced at the mountain of muscle beside her. Did she really want to be alone with Tyr? Alone in bed with him?
Alone in bed with both of them naked?
‘Did you say something?’
She looked up as Tyr spoke. Her cheeks flamed with heat when she realised that she must have exclaimed out loud with apprehension.
‘No. Nothing.’
She pinned a small smile to her face to reassure him. How could she admit that she was terrified at the thought of being alone with him when they’d known each other all their lives?
Anxiously, she began to twist the simple platinum wedding band Tyr had placed on her finger. How disappointing he would find her. Tyr was so vital and masculine, while she knew nothing about physical love between a man and a woman. She had hoped the first time would be special, and not painful, as she’d been told it could be, but beyond that—
‘Do you like it?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘The ring?’ Tyr prompted. ‘Do you like it?’
Her eyes must have been wide with dread, Jazz realised. ‘I love it.’ This was the truth. She loved the simplicity of the Scandinavian design. If she had chosen it herself she couldn’t have picked a ring she liked better. But it was sad to think that the ring wasn’t a love token, but only the ink to seal the deal. ‘How did you find such a lovely ring at such short notice?’
‘Britt bought it for me.’
Of course. Tyr would have contacted Britt, who had chosen something she thought Jazz would like. The thought of Britt doing that for her made Jazz feel emotional. She didn’t deserve such good people in her life, and she longed to tell Britt the truth.
Tyr stopped her with his hand on her arm as she started to get up to go and find his sister. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To speak to Britt. I have to explain that this wedding is a sham.’
‘You’ll