Royals: A Dutiful Princess: His Forbidden Diamond / Expectant Princess, Unexpected Affair / Royal Holiday Baby. Michelle Celmer

something was going on between them, Sharif glanced round. Tyr exchanged a brief look with his friend, lips pressed down to express regret at the fact that this was one time when he couldn’t help Sharif out. Sharif shrugged. Jazz had always been stubborn. Once she got an idea into her head, they both knew she ran with it until Jazz, or the concept, ran out of steam.

      After feeling nothing for so long, Tyr felt this urge to help Jazz overwhelming him. He would like to get very close indeed to Jazz Kareshi.

      All the more reason to sit back and ignore her.

      This was turning into one hell of an evening.

      And it was about to get worse.

      As he released a sigh of frustration, Jazz looked at him with something in her eyes that made his senses go into free fall. ‘Don’t play games with me, Jazz,’ he mouthed in an undertone.

      ‘I’m not playing games with you.’

      So her eyes were playing games with him—her lips too. And flushed cheeks betrayed her more than any excuses she could give. The laws of attraction took no prisoners. Nor did they show concern for a self-contained warrior who’d had his armour split wide open tonight, or a conservative princess who had just rediscovered her wings.

      ‘Tyr.’

      He glanced up with relief to see his sister Britt. Putting one hand on the back of his chair and the other on the back of Jazz’s chair, his sister bound them briefly. ‘How are you two enjoying the evening so far?’

      You two? Should he tell her the truth and ruin Britt’s evening after all her hard work on his behalf? He was tense beyond belief, and Jazz was—Jazz. ‘I’m having a wonderful time. It’s been a great chance to catch up.’

      ‘Do you mean that?’ Jazz murmured when his sister had left them to rejoin Sharif.

      ‘I’ve learned a lot.’ Like Jazz’s freedom shouldn’t depend on some misguided idea of how she could best help her country.

      ‘Why are you staring at me like that, Tyr?’

      ‘Am I staring at you?’ He guessed Jazz would have to be contained in a hermetically sealed suit for him not to stare. In a traditional, slim-fitting ankle-length gown in a rich shade of midnight-blue, edged with subtle bronze thread, she was dressed perfectly to suit her character; that was to say, demure with a touch of fire. He’d like to see that spark inside her ignite. What would it take? he wondered. With her waist-length inky-black hair covered with a filmy veil, she looked stunning.

      ‘Tyr,’ she warned, staring down at her hands, ‘will you please stop staring at me?’

      ‘You can’t blame me for looking at the most interesting thing in the room.’

      ‘But I do blame you. I’m not a child, any longer. You can’t tease and flirt with me as you used to do.’ Jazz shook her head, making her filmy veil shiver. ‘Don’t you understand anything? Or are you intent on making my life more difficult?’

      ‘That’s the last thing I want, Princess, but it is usual to hold a conversation with the person sitting next to you at the dinner table.’

      ‘You’re impossible.’

      Jazz whipped her head away so fast her veil slipped back. Before she could rearrange it, the soft nape of her neck was revealed as her hair swung to one side. The wave of disappointment that hit him when she quickly pulled the veil forward and that delicate sliver of naked flesh disappeared was a real eye-opener. He really did have it bad. And then Jazz proved his suspicion that the grit was still there when she stood to propose a toast. Raising her glass of juice, she turned to face Britt.

      ‘I would like to propose a toast of thanks to a wonderful woman and a dear friend: my brother’s wife, Britt. I want to thank you on behalf of everyone here for the work you’ve put in to make tonight such a wonderful success. I couldn’t love you more if you were my own sister.’ Emotion made Jazz pause for a moment as murmurs of approval rose around her. ‘The charity we’re supporting tonight means a lot to all of us seated round this table, and tonight is also an opportunity for us to welcome Tyr home.’

      Tyr tensed as Jazz stared straight at him. This evening would be over soon, but something told him the repercussions from tonight would spread out like ripples on a pond and touch them all.

      * * *

      Even after a few days, it still felt strange being at home with his sisters after so long away. All four of them together at one time like this was practically unique, but Britt, Eva and Leila had put their husbands out to graze for the day so they could spend time with him—and with Jazz. At least, that was what they’d told him, but for the past half-hour they’d cut him out and talked exclusively to Jazz. And in ever-diminishing whispers that left him super-alert and ultra-suspicious.

      ‘You’re not supposed to be listening,’ Eva complained when he glanced up. ‘Get back to watching sport.’

      Yes. He was the token man, allowed to remain in the same room as his sisters and Jazz, providing he took the lid off the nuts and poured the sodas for them. With his feet crossed on the coffee table and a bottle of beer in his hand, he’d been invisible up to this point.

      ‘Could you speak up?’ he requested dryly. ‘I’m having trouble hearing you.’

      ‘If you must know,’ Eva fired at him from her position at the head of the table, ‘Jazz is in a fix.’

      ‘A fix? What does that mean?’ He swung round to stare at Jazz.

      ‘It’s nothing.’ Jazz tried to brush this off with an airy sweep of her hand.

      ‘You’ve started, so you might as well finish,’ he observed dryly, noting her cheeks had turned bright red.

      ‘If you must know,’ Eva cut in, ‘Jazz has today received a formal offer from the Emir of Qadar.’

      He groaned inwardly. Time had run out. In the interest of learning more, he acted dumb. ‘What kind of offer?’

      ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Eva exclaimed, glancing round the table. ‘I know you’re a man, but you must have some idea?’

      He shrugged. ‘I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.’

      Clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, Eva—as he had hoped she would—hurried to fill in the details. ‘An offer of marriage, dummkopf. And soon.’

      Soon? He didn’t want to hear another word. He knew his face must be as black as thunder as he appeared to consider this bombshell.

      ‘The Emir of Qadar?’ he said at last, lips pressing down as he nodded his head, acting impressed. ‘Big country. Important title. That’s quite a compliment for Jazz, isn’t it?’

      Britt put a restraining hand on Eva’s arm when she sucked in a breath.

      ‘Well, isn’t it?’ he said mildly.

      Eva scowled, while Leila bit her lip, and Britt looked troubled. Jazz avoided his stare altogether.

      ‘Is anyone going to explain?’ he requested mildly, seething inside.

      Eva took the bait. ‘May I?’ she said, looking at Jazz with concern.

      Jazz shrugged and appeared resigned. ‘Go right ahead. It will soon be public knowledge, so, why not?’

      Taking a deep breath, Eva stared into his eyes. She was sending him a strong message of sympathy for Jazz, along with an entreaty for him to do something the heck about it. ‘You might not think it such a compliment when I tell you that the emir has insisted on Jazz being a virgin when they marry.’

      He exploded out of his seat, then remembered he was supposed to be acting out the concerned friend, rather than overheated would-be lover. Making a calming gesture with his hands, intended for himself as much as anyone, he turned to Jazz. ‘Forgive me, Jazz. This is none of my business, but I didn’t