more to him that that, and he would never mislead her by promising more than he could deliver.
He breathed a sigh of relief when she turned for the big bed. But would that help him? Having Jazz a few feet away when he had spent most of the wedding ceremony trying to avoid contact with her because the ache of wanting her was so acute? Did he seriously think he was going to make it through the night?
IF ACTIONS SPOKE louder than words, then Jazz had no option but to do this. With the prospect of a loveless wedding night ahead of her, what did she have to lose? She stared at Tyr’s big, muscular back clad in a black tee. He was wearing black boxers too. She’d sneaked a look.
What a modest bridegroom. What a shameless bride.
When fantasy clashed with reality, all she could think about was Tyr looming over her, magnificent and immense. But if he moved a muscle, she’d probably run a mile.
So was their friendship dead too? Jazz wondered as Tyr remained motionless with his back turned to her. As he continued to ignore her, she wondered if Tyr ever ached for a touch, or a kind word and a warm look, as she did right now. She understood why he’d become hard and self-reliant, but she wanted him to know that she cared, and that this was their wedding night—which terrified her, and challenged her to be more courageous too. Or else, was she doomed to an empty life with a head full of Tyr Skavanga? She gazed at the big, silent Viking, currently stretched out on his bed of cushions just a few yards away. Maybe she should have married the Emir of Qadar.
How lucky was she to have so many choices?
‘Jazz?’ Tyr murmured her name without opening his eyes. ‘Jazz, what are you doing? What the hell!’
‘What does it look as if I’m doing?’ Having climbed beneath his covers, she pulled them up to her chin. ‘I was cold, so I’m joining my husband for our wedding night. The least we can do is share our body heat.’
‘No, we can’t,’ Tyr assured her, putting space between them.
He had tried not to look at Jazz in her diaphanous robe, with her hair streaming round her shoulders, and had failed miserably. The urge to make love to her was overwhelming him. She was lying in his bed, for goodness’ sake!
‘You’ll be more comfortable in the big bed.’ He spoke gruffly, closing his mind to a sight that had cracked his heart wide open and left him with the worst case of frustration known to man.
‘I might be as comfortable in the big bed, but I wouldn’t be as warm,’ Jazz argued in a voice he’d never heard her use before.
‘Jazz, please be sensible.’
‘I don’t want to be sensible,’ she assured him in the same husky tone. ‘What are you worried about, Tyr? Do you think I’m going to make a move on you—take advantage of you?’ Angling her chin on the pillow, Jazz slanted him a look. He had never seen that look on Jazz’s face before. ‘Are you concerned I’m going to wear you down, and make you do something you want to do?’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’ Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore her.
‘Ridiculous?’ Jazz hummed. ‘What am I supposed to think? Am I repulsive? Can’t you stand the sight of me?’
‘For God’s sake, Jazz!’ He sat up in his makeshift bed. ‘Just leave it, will you? Isn’t this situation bad enough?’
‘You tell me,’ she said softly, showing no sign of going anywhere.
Touching Jazz, let alone making love to her, could only lead to the bond between them tightening, when it was better for both of them if they kept that bond on a really long leash.
‘We’re married, Tyr. Have you forgotten that?’
‘I haven’t forgotten anything. Now, will you please go back to your own bed and go to sleep?’
Once again, she didn’t move. ‘Maybe I’m so irresistible you can’t trust yourself to leave me alone once we get started?’
‘For goodness’ sake, Jazz.’
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he turned his back on her and sank his head into his hands. ‘We’re not kids any longer. And this isn’t a game.’
‘You’ve noticed?’ she fired back. ‘It certainly isn’t a game to me, Tyr. I’m a bride and this is my wedding night, but the groom apparently wants to go to sleep.’
Sleep was the last thing on his mind, but Jazz didn’t need to know that. ‘What do you want from me, Jazz?’
‘What any bride wants from her husband on their wedding night: closeness, loyalty, trust, intimacy.’
Not passion, he noted. Even Jazz the eternal optimist couldn’t push the boat out that far.
‘And friendship.’
He looked up when he heard the break in her voice, and saw her tears, but Jazz had more grit than to fold because he was being cold towards her.
‘I want you to make love to me, Tyr,’ she said fiercely. Swiping the back of her hand across her eyes, she lifted her chin. ‘I want you to teach me everything you know about sex. I want you to show me what to do and how to please you.’
He was so taken aback, he couldn’t speak for a moment.
‘Tyr, I—’
‘I heard what you said, Jazz.’
‘So?’
As Jazz waited for him to reply, he could sense her thinking: What do I have to do to get through to this man? She had risked everything, her pride, her self-respect. God, what a monster he’d become.
Why should Tyr respond when he was only here acting out the role of groom to get her out of a hole? She had no idea how to handle a rejection as comprehensive as this. She would never take anyone for granted again, Jazz vowed fervently. She had thought she could handle anything Tyr threw at her, but then she had thought she was strong too. Turned out she was wrong on all counts. When you loved someone as she loved Tyr, this was always going to hurt.
‘I’m sorry, Tyr. I should never have put you in this position. Of course we should sleep. Sex has to be by mutual consent and not to order. I know that much.’
Lifting his head out of his hands, Tyr straightened up and turned to face her. ‘You don’t want this, believe me.’
‘I’m not frightened of you, Tyr, if that’s what you think. And how can you doubt that I want this?’
‘Brave words, Jazz.’
‘They’re not just words.’ She stared into his eyes. ‘We can’t go on like this. What’s wrong with you, Tyr? It’s not like you to back away from opportunity.’
‘I’m not backing away. And this isn’t an opportunity, as you put it, Jazz. I’m trying to protect you. Can’t you see that?’
‘You’re trying to protect me by making me feel like the most undesirable woman on earth? How does that work, Tyr?’
‘I’m trying to protect you from me.’
‘Why? Are you such a beast in bed?’
‘Jazz—’
‘You probably are a beast in bed.’ Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘How would I know?’
‘Jazz,’ Tyr exclaimed with exasperation. ‘Take the big bed and try to get some sleep.’
‘I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re saving me from, Tyr. And you’d better come up with something good, because right now I’m feeling pretty—’
Tyr’s fierce growl of impatience made