Royals: A Dutiful Princess. Leanne Banks

anything, it was that she couldn’t write the script for a perfect life, because everyone had different aspirations. Tyr’s dream was to rebuild, then move on to the next project, while hers was to stay and develop what she started. His kiss had been a fleeting reminder of what might have been, but Tyr obviously thought the kiss was a mistake. The time she’d spent with him had been an unexpected gift, but it was over now. Urging her mount into a brisk trot, she watched Tyr turn his horse around and head in the opposite direction as he took the long way back to the village.

      * * *

      Disbelief racked Tyr. He’d kissed Jazz? What the hell was he thinking? He’d been back at the village for just under an hour when she came to tell him the news. She found him at the village hall, where he was fine-tuning the Internet connection, which he’d managed to get back up.

      ‘I thought you should know,’ she said.

      ‘That’s putting it mildly. Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me everything in Sharif’s mail.’

      ‘You know what email’s like. You write one thing and the person at the other end reads something else. I mailed Sharif to explain that we can sort this mix-up out between us, but what I didn’t know was that the headman had already mailed Sharif to tell him how happy everyone is at the prospect of us staying on here, once we are married. Please don’t be angry, Tyr. This is just a terrible misunderstanding.’

      ‘This is like a sandstorm from hell,’ he argued.

      Closing down the computer, he steered Jazz outside. The time for worrying what people thought when they saw them together was long past, but Jazz was right in saying it was too late for recriminations. ‘When is this ridiculous ceremony supposed to take place?’

      ‘Tomorrow.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘I’m sorry, Tyr, but there’s no such thing as a long engagement here.’

      His face turned thunderous. ‘No kidding.’

      Tyr had every right to be angry, Jazz conceded as he marched her down the dusty village street towards her pavilion. He left her at the door without a backward glance. He was mad and she didn’t blame him. There was no way out of this now, for either of them, unless Tyr was prepared to risk his friendship with Sharif, and she doubted he would ever risk that. She had hoped for enough time to plan a way forward together, but there was no time, and now they were further apart than they had ever been, which meant she was faced by the bitter prospect of a loveless marriage to a friend she’d lost for ever.

      No! No! No! His mind was splintering into a thousand pieces, all of them emblazoned with the same word: No. Did he want this sham marriage? Did he want to deceive the people he’d come to care for in Kareshi? Did he want to subject Jazz to a farce on a grand scale? No again. Jazz was innocent, and the people of Wadi village were only guilty of wanting to share their princess’s happiness. Having a princess of Kareshi marry in their village was a dream come true for them. How could he walk away from that? And now he’d spoken to Sharif he had confirmation that if he walked away from this, Jazz would never be able to lift her head in Kareshi again. He had to give Sharif credit for remaining strictly neutral throughout a very difficult conversation: ‘You’re my friend and Jazz is my sister,’ Sharif had said. ‘I trust you to work this out between you.’

      He didn’t sleep that night. How could he sleep with Jazz lying half naked in a bed close by? Jazz with her storm cloud of jet-black hair drifting round her shoulders and that sweet mouth begging to be kissed.

      He should never have kissed her. He should have stayed away from her.

      It was too late to worry about that now. Staring into the darkness, he thought 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.