The Royals Collection. Rebecca Winters

have no wish to do this.’

      Much. His fingers were on fire at the thought.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      JAZZ BRACED HERSELF as she prepared for Tyr to conduct his examination. Closing her eyes, she turned her head away, as if to show him that if she must endure this personal invasion, she would do so while distanced from him in both thought and response. This was something new for him, and he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or amused by a woman who didn’t want him to touch her. He made the exam swift, gentling his big hands as much as he could, but Jazz felt so good beneath his touch, he found it almost impossible to remain clinically objective.

      ‘Is this really necessary?’ she demanded at one point when his fingertips scraped her breast.

      ‘Bruised ribs,’ he said tersely, consciously steadying his breathing. ‘I’m checking they’re not broken.’

      ‘What about the new medical facility in the village? Can’t I get checked over there?’

      The new medical facility he had only recently installed? Now, why hadn’t he thought of that? ‘I’m just making sure it’s safe to move you first.’

      ‘It’s safe.’ Jazz’s eyes flashed fire. ‘And as soon as I’ve had chance to catch my breath, I’m standing up.’

      ‘And I’ll help you,’ he said calmly. Straightening her shirt, he hunkered back on his heels to wait.

      This was not the way she’d planned it. This was supposed to be an innocent morning ride. And, okay, if it had turned into a scouting mission, she hadn’t expected such immediate and intimate contact with her target. Having Tyr loom over her while she was lying prone on the ground was having all sorts of odd effects on her body, none of them welcome.

      ‘If that snake hadn’t slithered in front of my horse...’

      ‘You’d still be up there, spying on me swimming naked in the oasis?’

      ‘Certainly not!’ She tried to get up, but Tyr pushed her down again. ‘I didn’t even know you were there,’ she defended, studiously ignoring his towel-clad frame. She absolutely refused to notice his biceps, or his formidable torso, or any other part of him that was currently brazenly on show. ‘I was taking my horse for a drink, and that’s all.’

      ‘You certainly picked a safe way down,’ Tyr remarked, his voice dripping with irony.

      ‘Past a snake,’ she reminded him acidly.

      ‘End result? You’re lying in a heap at my feet.’

      ‘A heap? I’ll have you know, I’m still in shock.’

      ‘Of course you are.’

      ‘And don’t you dare look at me like that.’

      ‘Like what?’ Tyr demanded as he unfolded his massive frame.

      ‘As if I’m today’s entertainment. And don’t stand over me, either.’

      ‘You’re right. I’ll have to carry you back to the village.’

      ‘What? You can’t do that.’ Scrambling to her feet, she promptly fell down again.

      Luckily, Tyr caught her before she hit the ground. He propped her against the sturdy trunk of a palm and stood back. ‘Stay there while I put some clothes on.’

      Shivers of awareness raced through her as she closed her eyes.

      A pair of snug-fitting jeans, some desert boots and a black top later, Tyr returned. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen, Princess. You may or may not have concussion, so you’re not walking back to the village.’ He held up his hand when she began to protest. ‘You can do what the hell you want once the doctors have checked you over, but until then you’re under orders—my orders.’

      Her jaw dropped with astonishment. Her body might have other ideas, but she wasn’t completely mad. ‘I forbid you to touch me.’

      ‘You forbid me?’ Tyr laughed. Then he swung her into his arms.

      At some point she realised that the more she struggled, the more her body approved as it rubbed against Tyr’s, so she made herself as stiff as a plank. But this was no longer a game, and the implications of arriving in a conservative village in the arms of a man didn’t bear thinking about. ‘Tyr. Please. You can’t carry me into Wadi village.’

      ‘Watch me.’

      ‘You don’t understand. Some of the most conservative people in Kareshi live in Wadi village.’

      ‘I understand everything, Jazz. You forget, I’ve been working in the village for quite some time.’

      ‘Then please put me down.’

      ‘I won’t take that risk with your safety.’ Ignoring her increasingly strident protests, Tyr continued on along the bank of the oasis, where he only paused to gather up her horse’s reins before turning in the direction of the village.

      She made one final attempt to make him change his mind. ‘Please, Tyr. Put me down. I can ride back.’

      ‘You’re in no fit state to ride back. Look at you. You’re shaking.’ Halting mid-stride, Tyr blazed a stare into her face, his expression fixed and determined. ‘What am I supposed to do? Leave you here to fry?’

      ‘That might be better.’ But then she glanced up at the sky, which was rapidly changing from cloudless blue to sun-bleached white. Death was better than disgrace, right? she reasoned frantically—which made her wonder briefly if she did indeed have concussion.

      ‘How would it look to the people of Wadi village if I leave you in the desert to die?’ Tyr demanded, distracting her. ‘Let me tell you,’ he said before she had chance to reply. ‘It would look as if the man who has been working with them, the same man the villagers have grown to trust, is nothing but a barbarian who holds life cheap, and who shows total disrespect for their royal family. You’ve had a fall. We don’t know if you’re injured yet. At the very least, you’ve sustained a shock. In the absence of an ambulance rumbling over the dunes, I’m carrying you back to the medical centre, where you can be checked out and treated. Anyone on earth would understand that.’

      ‘My people won’t.’

      ‘Your people would rather have you dead?’ Tyr shook his head. ‘You don’t know them, Jazz. They love you. They talk about you and Sharif constantly. Together you’ve brought stability to Kareshi. You must never take a chance like that again. What if I hadn’t planned to swim in the oasis? What if you’d broken your leg and were stranded out here? What if your horse had run away? Are you carrying a satellite phone or a tracking device?’

      In her rush to see Tyr, she had remembered none of these things, Jazz realised, but that wasn’t something she was about to share with him. ‘They must have been lost during the fall.’

      ‘Yeah, right.’ He strode on.

      Her heart sank. They had almost reached the outskirts of the village, and people were already coming out of their houses to take a look. Smiling grimly as he reassured people in broken Kareshi, Tyr continued on through the crowd. He either didn’t know or didn’t care that touching her was practically a criminal offence. And she couldn’t blame the villagers for their concern. Before Tyr had arrived on the scene, installing the Internet and bringing fresh water to the village, they hadn’t met a stranger for goodness knew how long. They led remote, sheltered lives, shielded from the world, with traditions that had remained unchanged for centuries. How long before news of her unconventional arrival flashed around Kareshi? She smiled in an attempt to reassure the veiled women, whose eyes were wide with concern for her, and nodded briefly at the men, who turned away. She was shamed in their eyes, and no excuse could possibly explain her outlandish behaviour.

      Pausing only to