Royals: A Dutiful Princess

‘And don’t Jazz me. I’m not a child,’ she snapped. ‘Well? Are you satisfied now? Oh, and there’s an underground stream running through the back of the tent, should I start to get thirsty.’

He glared back at her.

‘So, what are you going to do now, Tyr? Stroll back to your place in the village—get knocked off your feet and killed?’

‘Hopefully not.’ Jazz sounded belligerent, but her expression was both wounded and touchingly concerned for him. This had to be embarrassing for Jazz. According to the headman, they were destined to be married, though not a word of romance had passed between them. Jazz didn’t know how to handle it, and for once he had no advice to offer her. ‘I’m satisfied you’re safe in here,’ he said to break the tension.

‘The pavilion is well insulated, thanks to its outer skin of camel hide,’ Jazz confirmed with a dry throat, clearly relieved to seize the distraction lifeline he’d offered her.

‘And you’re right, saying no one is safe outside in a storm like this,’ he agreed for the sake of encouraging Jazz to use her sensible head, rather than the turbulent emotion he could sense bubbling so close to the surface. ‘Not even me.’

‘Well, that’s something, I suppose.’ And then she fell silent. ‘You should never have come here,’ she said at last in a strained voice.

‘I’m supposed to pretend nothing happened back there?’ He jerked his head in the general direction of the village hall.

‘Can’t you see how bad you’re making things look by coming here, Tyr?’

‘Your safety comes first. And considering you weren’t supposed to be here when I arrived, that’s rich, coming from you. But we are where we are, Jazz, and it’s no use looking back.’

‘If you’d left me on that dune as I asked you to, this wouldn’t have happened.’

‘If I’d left you on that dune, you’d be dead. And if one of my sisters was stranded in the middle of a sandstorm when Sharif was close by, I would expect him to do exactly what I’m doing for you.’

‘But this is different, Tyr.’

‘Why? Because you’re a princess of Kareshi? You’re also a human being, aren’t you?’

‘I’m alone with a man.’

‘Who is here to make sure you’re safe, and for no other reason, Jasmina.’

‘You can’t even call me Jazz now?’

‘You’re a princess,’ he reminded her coldly.

But there was more to it than that. Jazz was the woman he wanted to take to bed, while Princess Jasmina was the innocent sister of his closest friend, and therefore untouchable. Princess Jasmina had nothing to worry about where Tyr Skavanga was concerned. Another tense silence hung between them. And just like the old days, neither one of them was prepared to back down first.

‘Well, I might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb,’ Jazz said finally. ‘You’re here, and, as you say, we’re in this situation, so I might as well offer you a drink.’

He slanted a wry smile at her. ‘Charmed, I’m sure.’

‘Juice?’

‘Thank you.’

While Jazz was arranging things, he took the chance to stare around at all the rich hangings and the jewel-coloured rugs. The Wadi people had really pushed out the boat to show their love for Jazz by offering her the best of everything they had. The smell of precious incense rose from brass burners, while a honeyed light shone from intricately pierced brass lanterns, which were almost certainly centuries old. And there were enough sumptuous throws and hand-sewn silk cushions to make up ten beds.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ she commented, seeing his interest and perhaps relieved for another chance to move onto safer ground. ‘Though you forgot to secure the storm sheet when you came in.’

Surprised, he glanced around.

‘You were too busy lecturing me,’ Jazz observed dryly as he corrected his mistake.

As he returned and tugged off his jacket, he noticed Jazz staring at him. It occurred to him that in Jazz’s ultra-protected world even the flash of a naked biceps would be disturbing. She was staring now at the tattoo that wound around his arm, which was a brutal reminder of his proud Viking heritage and another warning of the many differences between them.

What on earth had persuaded her to allow Tyr Skavanga inside the pavilion? When he’d touched her lightly on the arm with his hand at the meeting, it had felt as if the voltage of the entire national grid had shot through her body. And now she was in lock-down with him? She couldn’t allow him to risk his life outside. That was the only reason this was happening, Jazz told herself firmly. But Tyr filled the tent. His aura of power and command surrounded her. He was so brazenly male and so frighteningly virile.

No one could be this close to Tyr and feel nothing, Jazz reasoned sensibly. The ferocity of the storm had unsettled her, but that wasn’t an excuse for her imagination to 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. This is an opportunity for us to catch up, Tyr.’

‘I’ve been here long enough, Jazz. Your reputation is already in tatters.’

‘My reputation is shot,’ she argued. ‘You couldn’t have caused more of a sensation if you kissed me in public.’

He paused with his hand on storm cloth over the entrance. ‘Now, why didn’t I think of that?

‘Tyr.’

‘Next time I’ll leave you where I find you,’ he vowed before Jazz could get started.

‘No. You’d never do that. You always were the white knight, Tyr.’

Their eyes met and held a dangerous beat too long. ‘Not many people would call me that.’

‘No,’ she agreed, ‘they’d call you a hero.’

‘Leave it, Jazz—’

‘No. I won’t leave it.’ Her voice was every bit as loud and angry as his. Standing up, all five feet two of her bristling with pent-up frustration, she stood between him and the only way out. ‘One day you will tell me why you always avoid talking about the past.’

‘My past is none of your business.’

‘It is my business,’ Jazz said fiercely, ‘because, like my brother, I care for you, and I refuse to watch you suffer on your own.’

‘Maybe I want to be on my own,’ he fired back. ‘Believe me, Jazz, you don’t want to go where I’ve been, and you certainly don’t want to see what I’ve seen—not even in your head.’

CHAPTER TEN

IT WAS HIS turn to tense up when Jazz put her hand in his. ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ she said. ‘You underestimate me, Tyr. You can tell me anything. Anything,’ she stressed.

‘Some things are best left unsaid, Jazz.’

‘I don’t agree.’ She shook her head and walked away a little distance. ‘If you keep all those ugly thoughts inside you they’ll just fester until they make you ill. Everything has to be faced at some point, Tyr. Look at me. I’ve made a mess of things, and now I’ve got to put them right. I haven’t a clue where I’m going to begin with this marriage nonsense, but I’ll sort it somehow.’ She sighed, but her compassion was all for him. ‘I can’t pretend to understand the enormity of the memories you’re avoiding.’

He said nothing.

‘And I can’t imagine what you’ve seen.’

Thank God for that.

Jazz’s gaze was unswerving. ‘I’m not going to stand by and see a friend in trouble without trying to help.’

‘I’m not in trouble.’ And he wasn’t into spilling the past as Jazz had suggested he should, but as she continued on he had a great sense of the girl he used to know returning, and that was the only news that mattered to him. The strong, practical, sometimes crazy, always feisty, dangerously impulsive girl he used to know was back, while the prim contrivance Jazz had turned herself into in the hope of reassuring one small sector of Kareshi’s population that not everything in their country was changing at breakneck speed had been forced to take a back seat. Great.

‘And as for that...’ She paused and bit her lip.

‘Marriage nonsense?’ he suggested.

‘You might not want to hear this, Tyr, but physical contact between a man and a woman in Kareshi can only mean one thing.’

He refocused on Jazz’s concerned face. ‘But there’s nothing going on between us, so everyone’s wrong.’

Jazz shook her head. ‘We can’t sort this out as easily as that. Whatever we know to be the case, those who would seize on anything in order to destabilise Sharif’s peaceful rule will refuse to be convinced. It doesn’t suit them. Can’t you see that?’

‘So, what are you suggesting?’

Taking a deep breath, Jazz braced herself. ‘It’s too late to save my reputation and I won’t risk either of us losing the trust of my people.’

‘We know that.’

‘So, it’s simple,’ she said. ‘We’ll get married, just like the headman said.’

He almost laughed. ‘That’s insane.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Jazz argued. ‘It’s a practical solution. And don’t look so horrified. We won’t be living as man and wife. There’ll be no passion involved. And we can still be friends.’

While he was still absorbing this ill-advised plan, Jazz came up to him and, standing on tiptoe, she brushed her lips against his cheek. ‘Friends?’ she whispered.

Her touch scorched him. Taking hold of her arms, he moved her back. ‘Don’t,’ he warned.

Needless to say, Jazz refused to be put off. ‘I promise I won’t tie you down, Tyr. You can leave Kareshi any time you want, and we’ll get divorced quietly at some point in the future when all the fuss has died down.’

‘Love’s young dream?’ He shook his head disbelievingly. ‘Jazz, you’ve come up with some madcap plans in the past, but this one is heading for the history books.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ she argued firmly. ‘We both trust each other to do what’s right, so this is the perfect solution. Don’t look at me like that. I have to do something, and this is the best I can come up with. The best for both of us. You don’t want to lose the people’s trust any more than I do. No one needs to know how we live out our private lives, and this way we can still live in Kareshi and work together.’

Holding up his hands, he stopped her. ‘I can’t believe you’re serious about this.’

‘I’ve never been more serious in my life. Can you think of a better solution?’

‘You bet I can. I leave now. And you leave the moment the storm passes over and the helicopter can get here to take you home. You get on with your life, and I get on with mine. Separately.’

‘I’m not leaving my people. And as far as we’re concerned, in their eyes the damage is already done.’

‘All I can see is you panicking, and proposing to go ahead with some mockery of a ceremony that’s supposed to convince your brother, my sisters and your people into believing you and I are intending to spend the rest of our lives together. I’ve backed some of your crazy ideas in the past, Jazz, but this is way beyond reasonable.’

‘Tyr. Come back here! Please, listen to me.’

He stared down at Jazz’s hand on his arm and she quickly removed it.

‘What do you suggest?’ Her voice was quiet, but her eyes were direct and unflinching.

He pulled away. ‘I don’t have to suggest anything. Nothing’s changed, as far as I’m concerned. The people of Wadi village accept me for who I am. They always have.’ Which was one of the reasons he’d stayed so long. No one asked him any questions.

‘But that will change now,’ Jazz assured him tensely. ‘You will never be able to work here again, because if you don’t marry me after spending so much time alone with me, the people you care so much about will shun you.’

‘Why would they do that, Jazz?’

‘Because in their eyes you will have disgraced their princess.’

With a laugh, he shook his head. ‘You make a great case, but I’m not going for it.’

She went rigid. ‘A great case? I hope you’re not sticking with the idea that I’m trying to trick you into marriage, because nothing could be further from the truth.’

‘I just know this crazy idea of yours is going no further. I will explain to the people of Wadi village that our relationship is nothing more than a friendship of long standing, and Sharif will understand.’

‘If we were in Skavanga, I might agree with you, but this is Kareshi and you have no idea how wrong you are.’

Firming his jaw, he turned away from her. ‘This conversation is over, Jazz.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ she warned with all the old spirit. ‘Don’t you dare mistake me for some spineless pawn who accepts whatever scrap you care to throw at me. I’m trying to do the best I can to repair the damage I’ve done. And, yes, I can stand up for myself and I don’t need your help, but you’re involved in this whether you like it or not and you can’t just walk away. These are my people and you’re in danger of offending them, and no one loves these people more than I do. Yes, they’re flawed, but so am I. We all are. We’re human, Tyr, and flaws come with that territory. No one understands the people of Kareshi better than me. All I’m asking is the chance to continue working with them. I can see now that my idea to marry the emir to strengthen our borders and appease the traditionalists was a terrible mistake, but I’m not going to allow a second terrible mistake to ruin my chances of helping my people.’

‘Jazz, you need to sit down and think through things calmly,’ he advised, but even he knew it was too late for that.

‘I shouldn’t have been up there on the dune,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘If only I’d ridden a different way, none of this would have happened.’

‘So don’t pile another mistake on top of that one.’

‘How fortunate you are to be exempt from the shortcomings that afflict the rest of the human race,’ she called after him as he started to unbuckle the storm cloth.

The wind howled in and nearly knocked her over. He reached out to save her and Jazz grabbed hold of his arm. She was pulling at him with all her strength to keep him in the tent, and yelling at him above the ear-splitting howl of the storm. ‘Are you mad? You’ll be killed out there.’

‘So, what do you want me to do, Jazz? Spend the night with the forbidden princess? Will that help your cause? Well?’ he demanded, shouting in her face.

Jazz’s tears shocked him rigid. He’d done so many things that haunted him, and in the process had changed, or so he had believed, into another, callous and more dangerous person. He was a trained killer, a dangerous man, but right now he was only aware of a pressing need to reach out and help Jazz in every way he could.

‘Please don’t leave me, Tyr.’

Jazz’s voice was small and made the impulse to drag her close unendurable. Her quiet strength reached out to touch some hidden part of him. Relaxing his grip so the cover fell back into place, he secured it firmly, then, taking her hand as if Jazz were a child again, and he the youth who had always looked out for her, he led her back into the heart of the pavilion.

‘We will find a solution to this marriage problem,’ he promised, wondering for the first time in his life if he could keep his promise to Jazz. He had never let her down before, but this time maybe he would. She’d gone without so much in her young life, compared to the camaraderie he’d enjoyed with his sisters, and then, to all intents and purposes, he’d come along and stolen her brother away. ‘I owe you,’ he murmured, thinking back.

‘More juice?’ she suggested, her lips slanting in a small smile.

Her hands were shaking, he noticed, but she clasped them tightly round the goblet in the hope he wouldn’t see. He watched her gather herself in a way Jazz used to do as a child. She had always had a backbone of steel.

‘I owe you an apology, Tyr,’ she stated levelly, not disappointing him. Raising her head, she looked straight at him. ‘I got us into this mess and I couldn’t regret it more. I just get so frustrated sometimes, and I know I come up with some wild ideas—’

‘Wild?’ He relaxed. ‘You can’t go round kissing men and proposing to them.’

Jazz’s cheeks flamed red. ‘Yes, I know. I feel embarrassed about that. If I’d had my choice you’d have been a long way down the queue.’

He laughed, relieved to see her relaxing at least a little. ‘You’re a beautiful woman, Jazz. You don’t need to do any of that. And I’m not just talking about what the world sees. You’re beautiful inside, and you deserve better.’

‘Than you?’

‘Much better than me. And better than some emir you don’t even know. You’ll fall in love one day, and when that day comes you won’t want baggage. Believe me, I know all about that.’

‘You’re not married, are you?’ Her smile vanished.

‘Me? No. The women I meet have got more sense.’

‘I think you’d be a good catch,’ Jazz argued.

‘Do you?’ Once again they were staring at each other and all sorts of wicked thoughts were flying through his head, but best of all was the fact that maybe their friendship could move on now.

‘Why don’t you tell me about the baggage, Tyr?’

It had always been a mistake to relax around Jazz.

She stared at him in silence for a moment. ‘It’s another of those things you don’t want to talk about, isn’t it, Tyr?’