Was she the only one to feel the tension building around the table? Jazz wondered.

She was doing everything she could to ignore Tyr, but he was sitting so close that her whole body was tingling with awareness. How could she remain insensible to his heat, or to the compelling presence of the big Viking at her side? Having forbidden herself every sensual delight reality could offer, exploring the forbidden in her mind had become a favourite pastime. But not tonight. She must not allow her thoughts to wander tonight.

Gathering her robe a little closer, she forced the direction of her thoughts away from Tyr.

For around five seconds.

‘More water, Princess?’ Tyr’s gravelly voice shook her. ‘Or something else, perhaps?’

‘No, thank you.’

How prim she sounded. But those wicked eyes—how dared he look at her like that? Storm-grey and darkening, Tyr’s eyes were lit with a disturbing understanding of her inner turmoil. He had always been able to read her. It was a skill that had made her mad when she was younger, and which now made her uncomfortably aware. And that firm mouth that she had all too often imagined kissing her—

‘You look beautiful tonight, Jazz.’

You can’t say that!

But how she wanted to hear it.

Dear Reader

I can’t believe this is the last book in my Skavanga Diamonds series.

I have the best readers in the world. You have followed me to the icy wastes beyond the Arctic circle and the sultry deserts of Arabia with Britt Skavanga and Sheikh Sharif of Kareshi—breathless in a Bedouin tent—in DIAMOND IN THE DESERT. Then we headed to a tiny Italian island together, to share the story of middle sister Eva when she went head-to-head with one sexy, arrogant brute of an Italian count in THE FLAW IN HIS DIAMOND. For the third book, THE PUREST OF DIAMONDS?, featuring the youngest, peacemaker sister Leila, the pace eased and the mood gentled—for around a page—as we left wintry Skavanga for sunny Spain, where Leila proved that a quiet strength can be the most effective, and that even the most mildmannered of the Skavanga sisters can turn out to be more than a match for the ruthless Raffa Leon.

And now HIS FORBIDDEN DIAMOND, the last book in this series, tells a story of forbidden attraction and the ultimate temptation that smoulders between Sheikh Sharif’s sister, Princess Jasmina of Kareshi, known as Jazz, and returning soldier Tyr Skavanga. This was the book I had in my mind from the beginning: the book that informed everything I wrote as I imagined the unimaginable. Tyr is one of the most interesting characters I have ever created, and in this book his mystery is unravelled.

I hope you enjoy reading Tyr and Jazz’s story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. This is for you.

With my warmest good wishes to my readers across the world.

Susan

His Forbidden Diamond

Susan Stephens

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the tiny Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Mills & Boon® Modern™ Romance style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday, and were married three months after that. Almost thirty years and three children later, they are still in love. (Susan does not advise her children to return home one day with a similar story, as she may not take the news with the same fortitude as her own mother!)

Susan had written several non-fiction books when fate took a hand. At a charity costume ball there was an afterdinner auction. One of the lots, ‘Spend a Day with an Author’, had been donated by Mills & Boon® author Penny Jordan. Susan’s husband bought this lot, and Penny was to become not just a great friend but a wonderful mentor, who encouraged Susan to write romance.

Susan loves her family, her pets, her friends and her writing. She enjoys entertaining, travel, and going to the theatre. She reads, cooks, and plays the piano to relax, and can occasionally be found throwing herself off mountains on a pair of skis or galloping through the countryside. Visit Susan’s website: www.susanstephens.net. She loves to hear from her readers all around the world!

For Laurie, who, like all the best heroines, is smart and fun, with an unshakeable determination to get the very best out of me.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Extract

Endpages

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

TYR SKAVANGA IS HOME!

THE HEADLINE BLARED at him. His sister Britt had placed the newspaper on her desk, where she knew he couldn’t fail to see it. Britt was trying to tell him in her usual no-nonsense way how much he’d been missed, and how words could never express his three sisters’ happiness now he’d returned. The photograph beneath the headline showed Britt, Eva and Leila, hugging each other, their faces wreathed in smiles of joy.

Because of him.

Turning, he went to stare out of Britt’s office window, where snow drifted from a black sky like frozen sighs. Everything outside the building was pristine white and unspoiled, while inside, reflected in the window, was a killer’s face, his face, and he couldn’t hide from that.

He had no wish to, Tyr thought grimly. He was back in Skavanga, the small mining town that bore his family’s name, to reboot himself amongst people he loved. He’d stayed away for too long after leaving the army, to protect his sisters and friends from a man who was vastly changed. Britt, his eldest sister, had never given up on him, never ceased trying to contact him whether he replied to her messages or not. Not being the usual response from him. Britt was one of the few people who could reach him through her husband, Sheikh Sharif. Sharif was one of Tyr’s closest friends and had remained loyal throughout, refusing to reveal Tyr’s whereabouts, or what he was doing while he was away, even to his wife, Britt.

In the end it was a child who had pricked his conscience and brought him back. He had carried the little girl from the war zone to reunite her with her family in a refugee camp, and when the tears of joy subsided she had turned to him to ask, with all the concern a child of seven who’d seen too much could muster:

‘Don’t you have a family, Mr Tyr?’

The little girl’s question had shamed him, shattered him. It had broken through his armour, forcing him to think about those he’d left behind. Yes, he had a family and he loved them very much, he had explained to her. No one in the girl’s family had commented when his eyes filled with tears. They’d seen everything. They were reunited. They were alive. That was all they asked for. When he’d left the camp to return to the desert to begin rebuilding, he’d worked until his strength gave out, and all the time he was there the little girl’s comment about his family nagged at him, made him realise how lucky he was to have people who loved him. He knew then he had to go home, though he had dreaded confronting his sisters, who would see through the shell in an instant to this new and much changed man.

He had been of inestimable value to Special Forces, a senior officer had told him as he pinned a medal on Tyr’s chest, but that wasn’t something Tyr wanted carved on his tombstone. He wanted to be remembered for what he’d built, and not for what he’d destroyed. He’d encountered three types of soldier in battle: those who enjoyed their job, those who went about their duty with unfailing courage and loyalty to comrades and country, and those who would never recover from what they’d seen, physically, mentally, or both. He had no excuse. He was strong. He had the love of a good family, and somehow he had managed, not just to stay alive, but to remain relatively unharmed, at least outwardly. And now it was up to him to complete the healing process so he could be of some use to those less fortunate than himself.

‘Tyr!’

‘Britt.’ He swung round just in time for his beautiful sister to throw herself into his arms. Britt’s face was ecstatic, but she was full of questions. Flight good? Journey good?

‘You look great, Tyr.’

His mouth quirked. ‘Liar.’

His eldest sister took a step back to take a proper look at him. ‘Okay, so your clothes look great.’

‘Better,’ he said dryly as they shared a laugh. ‘I stopped off in Milan, knowing if I was coming to a party hosted by my glamorous sisters, I had better look the part.’

Britt’s face grew concerned. ‘You know, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Tyr.’

‘But I want to be here. I wanted to come home and see you.’

‘So, you’re ready to face the music?’ Britt enquired, glancing across the road to the town’s smartest hotel, where she had arranged a welcome home party for him.

‘I am if you are.’

‘I only wish we had longer to talk, but you’ve never been one to ease yourself into a situation by degrees, have you, Tyr?’

‘Full immersion,’ he confirmed, determined to keep the tone upbeat. ‘It’s the only way I know.’

Britt gave a disbelieving hum. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do say so.’ He gestured towards the hotel, where they could see cars arriving. ‘And thank you for going to all this trouble for me.’

She laughed. ‘It’s nice to have the chance. And if I can’t welcome the town’s hero home...’

‘Just welcome your brother home. That’s all I want.’

‘I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, Tyr—and almost had to,’ Britt reminded him wryly.

‘Those emails kept coming,’ he agreed.

‘And you kept ignoring them.’

‘But I saved you a trip in the end,’ he pointed out.

‘Tyr, you never change.’ Britt was laughing but her eyes were sad behind the fixed smile because they both knew that was a lie. He’d changed a whole lot.

‘This quiet time in my office has been good for you, though, hasn’t it, Tyr?’

‘This quiet time has been perfect. Thank you, Britt.’

Aside from shopping for some essentials, which meant ditching the desert boots and safari shirts in favour of city clothes, Tyr hadn’t suffered any human contact since leaving the sandbox. After the silence of the desert even street noise was deafening. But when could Britt not face anything that came her way? he reflected as he gazed into the eyes of a most admirable woman. Even if she hadn’t been his sister, he would have placed Britt on a pedestal a mile high.

‘Well, you’ve had your moment,’ she told him briskly. ‘I want a few words alone with you, and then we’ll go.’

He frowned. ‘This sounds serious.’

‘There’s a lot to tell you, Tyr. You’ve been away for such a long time. Leila’s had twins—’

‘This I know—you already told me.’

‘I told you when they were born,’ Britt agreed. ‘They’re practically school age now, yet you still haven’t seen them.’

He acknowledged this with a regretful dip of his head.

‘And Leila’s pregnant again—’

‘What?’ This was news to him. ‘Raffa doesn’t waste any time.’

‘Stop with the dinosaur spiel. Those two adore each other. They want a football team, according to Leila. And if you will go off radar the world isn’t going to stand still until you decide to come back.’

Where he’d been there was no communication with the outside world—not until he set that communication up and moved on, leaving others to go about the business of contacting loved ones. For a long time he’d been too beat up inside to even think about inflicting himself on his sisters.

‘You’re not going to tell me where you were, are you, Tyr?’

‘Need-to-know basis only.’ He made light of it and shrugged. His work was important to him. It was the only way he knew to make reparation. He didn’t want to talk about that work to anyone, not even to Britt. He didn’t want praise for putting right the wrong he’d done. He just wanted to get on with the job.

Britt shook her head at him. ‘Well, I give up. But just wait until you see Leila. She looks—’

‘Huge?’ he suggested, ducking as Britt aimed a swipe at him.

And just like that they were back to the happy days, the carefree days. ‘So, what else is going on I should know about?’

‘Jazz is here.’

Electricity coursed through him. ‘Jazz. I haven’t seen Jazz for years.’ Just the mention of Sharif’s younger sister’s name took him back to wild school holidays, when he could ride himself into the ground and swim until his arms ached, and think of nothing more but the next harmless adventure with his two friends from Kareshi. But beneath Britt’s matter-of-fact tone, he sensed something more. ‘So?’ He shrugged. ‘What’s happening with Jazz?’ He was fairly confident Sharif would have told him if anything serious had happened to his Jazz—Princess Jasmina of Kareshi, as Jazz was better known to the world. ‘Jazz is okay, isn’t she?’

‘Of course she is.’

‘But?’ He played it down, but his heart had stopped at the thought of harm coming to Jazz. They’d known each other since Sharif had first invited Tyr to spend his school holidays in Kareshi, where Jazz teased him unmercifully for his lack of desert lore. He’d shrugged the irritating kid sister off, but surprised himself by always being pleased to see her. A type of camaraderie had grown between them, and the thought of Jazz sick, or injured— His stomach churned. He’d seen too much of that.

‘But nothing, Tyr,’ Britt insisted. ‘I’d tell you if there was anything wrong.’

He searched Britt’s eyes, knowing that wasn’t the whole story.

‘She’s coming tonight, Tyr.’

‘Great.’ It would be good to see Jazz, though Sharif’s sister could see through everyone, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

‘She’s changed, Tyr,’ Britt said quietly.

He looked up.

‘Like the rest of us, Tyr, Jazz has grown up.’

What was his sister trying to tell him? He shrugged, picturing Jazz with braces and pigtails. How much could one person change? He glanced at his reflection in the window, where he got his answer to that.

‘What’s wrong, Tyr?’

He slanted a smile. ‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing’s wrong.’

‘We’ve all changed,’ Britt said, reading him easily, ‘but at least you’re smiling now. Thinking of Jazz?’

He hummed and shrugged Britt’s question off, but he was thinking about Jazz, who, all those years back, had used to refer to him as the guy from the frozen north with the funny name. Sharif, Jazz and he had been an oddball team. Jazz started out the most unwanted member of that team, but she was also the most determined, and could ride him and Sharif into the ground. And she knew the shifting patterns of the desert like the back of her hand. There had been no getting away from Jazz Kareshi, so in the end they’d given up.

‘Don’t look so worried, Britt. I can handle Jazz,’ he said with confidence.

‘Just don’t tease her, Tyr.’

‘Don’t tease Jazz?’ He frowned. Jazz had always been the butt of their humour, and Jazz had always given back as good as she got.

‘Jazz has only agreed to come tonight because this is such a big family occasion. And I’m here to chaperone her,’ Britt added with a meaningful look. ‘Me and Sharif, that is.’

He frowned. ‘This is all sounding terribly formal and not a bit like Jazz.’

‘Like I said, Tyr, Jazz is all grown up, and unmarried sisters of the ruling sheikh in Kareshi don’t share our freedoms.’

‘Is Sharif penning her in?’

‘Don’t be silly. You know Sharif is a big advocate for progress. This is Jazz’s decision, and we have to respect her for her beliefs. It shows a quiet strength and lots of courage, in my opinion. Jazz has stood by Sharif’s side throughout as he’s coaxed Kareshi into the twenty-first century, and now she doesn’t want to do anything to rock the boat, let alone give the traditionalists in Kareshi an excuse to criticise Sharif for implementing progress too quickly.’

‘So Jazz sacrifices herself?’ he demanded, outraged. ‘Jazz shuts herself away?’

‘Not exactly, but Jazz has become quite conservative, so for her sake, Tyr, just tone it down when you see her, okay?’

‘What do you think I’m going to do? We’ve been friends for most of our lives, Britt. I’m hardly going to leap on her.’

‘Just cool the friendship, and stay clear of Jazz, except for the most perfunctory greeting. Okay?’

He raked his hair. ‘I can’t believe you’re serious. Is anyone allowed to approach the royal presence?’

‘Don’t mock her, Tyr. Of course they are.’ Britt fired a warning glance across his bows for making light of something that was obviously a great concern to her. ‘Jazz lives a near normal life in Kareshi. Sharif broke all the traditionalists’ rules by giving Jazz a job at his racing stables, where she’s excelled in management, but, more importantly, this has opened the floodgates for all the women of Kareshi to work, if they choose to do so.’

‘But?’ he prompted, homing in on Britt’s brief hesitation.

‘But it’s made Jazz more determined than ever to uphold tradition in other areas of her life, so that no one can find fault with Sharif’s decision to allow her to work.’

‘What does “upholding tradition” mean exactly?’

‘It means that Jazz believes Kareshi can only take one small step at a time, and if by staying in the shadows it means every woman in Kareshi has the right to work, she’s prepared to do that. We should admire her for that sacrifice.’

‘Her sacrifice?’

‘Kareshi has to be coaxed, not bullied, Tyr. Jazz understands this as I do. Freedom for women to work is the first big step. Freedom for unmarried women to mix openly with men without being shunned by society is the next. Kareshi will take that step, but Jazz is devoted to her people, and I think we can safely trust Jazz to know what’s best in this instance.’

‘To know what’s best for her, or for Kareshi?’

‘Don’t get so heated, Tyr. For both, of course. And please don’t scowl at me like that.’

‘You’re right, and I apologise.’ Britt had done too much for him for him to sound off at her like that. ‘I’m still trying to get my head around the feisty girl I knew becoming some sort of reclusive woman.’

‘So you didn’t shut yourself away from those who loved you?’

Trust Britt to point that out. He forced a smile over his concern for Jazz. ‘Point taken.’

‘Be happy for her, Tyr. Jazz is a wonderful young woman with the strongest sense of duty where Kareshi is concerned, something I know you can relate to. It makes sense that she doesn’t want to cause ripples on the pond.’

‘It makes sense to you maybe,’ he agreed, ‘but Jazz is my friend, and I’m going to see a lot of friends tonight and I’m going to treat them all the same.’

‘Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?’ Taking his face between her hands, Britt stood on tiptoes to kiss him on both cheeks. ‘Now, there are some people outside that door who have waited a long time to give you a big, sloppy welcome without the rest of the world looking on.’

His spirits soared with expectation. ‘Eva and Leila are here?’

‘With their husbands—I didn’t think you’d mind, seeing as Roman and Raffa are your closest friends?’

‘I don’t mind at all.’ He was looking forward to it, and his cynical self reassured him that if he kept it light they wouldn’t see anything in his eyes except the happiness a reunion like this would bring.

His middle sister, Eva, was the first into the room, changing the dynamics completely. Eva lived up to her bright red hair with the sharpest tongue this side of a scalpel, and the long space of time since they’d seen each other hadn’t dulled Eva’s approach. Standing back, she weighed him up. ‘You look every bit as formidable as I remember, warrior-boy.’

‘I could crush you with one finger, squirt.’

Fists raised, they squared up for a mock fight, and then, bursting into tears, Eva launched herself at him. Pummelling him with her tiny fists, she raged in a shaking voice, ‘Don’t you ever do that to me again. Do you hear me, Tyr?’ Pulling back, she stared at him with furious eyes. ‘Don’t you ever disappear out of my life again without at least having the courtesy to leave me the keys to your muscle car.’

Laughing, he embraced her. ‘Promise,’ he murmured softly as he kissed the top of her head.

Eyes softened with tears, Eva pulled back to stare at him. ‘You’ve no idea how we’ve missed you, Tyr.’

‘I’ve missed you too.’ How much, they’d never know. ‘I can’t imagine how I survived all that time without the three of you nagging me.’

As Eva roared with pretended fury, Britt walked to the door and swung it wide. ‘Leila!’ He was ready to catch his youngest sister and swing her round. Thankfully he stopped in time. ‘Wow. You are pregnant.’

‘Bowling-ball pregnant,’ Leila confirmed, laughing and crying all at the same time as they embraced.

‘But you look as beautiful as Britt warned me you would.’

Leila huffed a laugh as she stood back. ‘If you like waddling hippos, I’m your gal.’ She stared at him intently for a moment. ‘I can’t believe you’ve come back to us.’ His sister’s eyes filled with love and concern. ‘But life’s taken a bite out of you.’

‘Enough.’ He straightened his jacket. ‘We’re going to a party, aren’t we?’

‘We mustn’t keep our guests waiting,’ Britt agreed, exchanging a look with him as she held the door.

Linking arms with his two younger sisters, he urged them out of the room.

* * *

For the first time Jazz could remember, Sharif hadn’t shown impatience with her when she wasn’t ready to leave for the party at the same time as him and Britt. ‘No hurry,’ he’d soothed with a smile. ‘Just call me when you’re ready and I’ll come back for you.’

At the time she’d been flapping over what to wear. This might seem like a storm in a teacup to the average bystander, but, when you chose not to socialise in mixed company, it was hard to know what high society in a bustling mining town like Skavanga would expect of a very conservative princess of Kareshi.

‘Your smile,’ Britt had told Jazz in her usual down-to-earth way, insisting Jazz must show her face on this occasion. ‘You don’t have to take the traditions of Kareshi to the nth degree when you’re staying with us in the frozen north.’

‘But if I were photographed—’

‘The people of Kareshi could only be proud of their princess. Seeing you with your brother, surrounded by a family who loves you both so much, how could they not be proud of you, Jazz?’

Britt was always hard to argue with, and on that occasion impossible, though Jazz had had to wrestle with her inner demons before she could agree to showing her face in public. Her parents had abused their privilege and neglected their people, leaving Sharif and Jazz in the care of a succession of nannies while their mother had flaunted her beauty on a world stage. Sharif and Jazz had grown up sensitive to the rumblings of discontent in their country, so that when the time came for Sharif to inherit the throne he had moved as quickly as he could to turn the super-tanker round and establish a fair rule so he could make their country safe. Sharif was good and strong and kind and wise, but their troubled childhood in a land of absentee rulers and rampant corruption had left Jazz determined not to cause any more upset, so, however free her spirit, in appearance she was always careful not to offend.

‘You should get out of Kareshi more,’ Britt had insisted when they had discussed what Jazz would wear for the party. ‘It would be good for your people, and good for you.’

Jazz agreed, but Kareshi was steeped in millennia of tradition. Sharif had already given her a job at his racing stables, which had opened the floodgates for every woman in Kareshi to work, should they choose to do so, and Jazz wasn’t about to risk their freedom by pushing the traditionalists too far. And it was much easier hiding behind a veil than facing up to a night like this. Staring into the mirror, she wished her heart would stop pounding. Her brother had already left with Britt, so Britt could enjoy a private reunion with her sisters and their long-lost brother, Tyr, at the Skavanga Mining company offices.

Tyr.

Jazz’s throat dried. She had always been excited to see the big Viking.

But things were different now, Jazz told herself firmly. She was an adult with responsibilities, not a child who had plagued the life out of her brother’s closest friend. She had to guard her feelings.

But Tyr was someone she could always depend on.

Or he had been, until he’d disappeared.

How she’d worried about him—wondered about him—prayed for him to be safe.

And now he was back.

What would he think of her? She was so changed, so solemn and so silent. She wouldn’t be playing any tricks on him today.

And she wouldn’t be going to the party if she didn’t calm down.

Taking a few steadying breaths, she closed her eyes and tried her hardest not to think about Tyr Skavanga. After a few moments, she gave up.

* * *

Tyr paused at the entrance to the hotel ballroom and smiled. ‘This is beautiful, Britt.’

‘No welcome banners,’ Eva complained, staring around.

‘No. It’s all very Britt,’ Leila commented approvingly, echoing his own thoughts. ‘It’s a really classy setting.’

‘For a warrior’s return,’ Eva said proudly, putting her hand on his arm.

‘For a homecoming,’ he argued gently.

There was no doubt Britt had gone to a lot of trouble. The flowers in the tall vases flanking the easel to one side of the grand double doors were classic and white. The photograph of him Britt had chosen to prop up on the easel showed him laughing and relaxed before he’d entered the theatre of war, where his life had changed completely.

‘You look about twenty years older in real life,’ Eva informed him helpfully to a chorus of disapproval from their sisters.

‘Watch it, shrimp,’ he warned playfully, feeling his spirits lift to the point where he thought he might actually enjoy the evening. ‘Roman’s out of earshot, so you could be heading for a soaking in the chocolate fountain.’

Eva gave a theatrical sigh. ‘Death by chocolate suits me.’

‘Come on, you two, stop squabbling,’ Britt insisted, pulling the big-sister card on both of them.

He walked ahead of his sisters into the lavishly decorated ballroom with its Gothic curlicues and massive, glittering chandeliers, and the first thing he saw when he entered the room was Jazz.

CHAPTER TWO

HOLY CRAP!

Tyr’s heart banged in his chest when Jazz turned to look at him. It was as if some invisible electrical cord connected them. What was it he’d said so confidently to Britt only minutes before? I’m going to see a lot of friends tonight and I’m going to treat them all the same.

Seriously?

No one else stood a chance of top billing with Princess Jasmina of Kareshi in the room. Britt had been derelict in her description of this new version of the tomboy Jazz, who hadn’t just grown up, but who had blossomed like an exotic flower into the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Jazz’s new air of serenity intrigued him. It was as if she had created a role for herself that she was determined to play out to the full.

He dismissed the new role Jazz had slotted herself into with a disapproving huff. She was avoiding the truth.

A bit like him, then?

Not a bit like him!

Swiping his hair back, he turned his mind to the flash of fire he’d seen in her eyes when Jazz had first spotted him entering the ballroom. It reminded him of the days when Her Royal Cheekiness had used to goad him on every possible occasion. Level calm had returned to her eyes now that Jazz was concentrating on the group of women surrounding her.

‘Tyr?’

He turned to look at Britt.

‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she?’

There was always more to Britt’s questions than at first appeared, so he replied with caution. ‘I guess.’ His world was private. He’d lived alone for too long to share his personal feelings with anyone, even Britt. He should have known his sister didn’t need any conversational pointers to read him.

‘Don’t shake her up, Tyr,’ Britt implored. ‘Be mild-mannered around her. Don’t pull the marauding Viking act. Jazz is trying her hardest to play the conservative card, so that traditionalists aren’t rattled when Sharif makes sweeping changes for good in Kareshi.’ Britt shook her head for emphasis. ‘This evening is really hard for her, Tyr. Being out in mixed company, I mean. But Jazz needs this. She has such a free spirit—but you know that.’ Britt frowned. ‘She’s sacrificed more than we know for Kareshi.’

‘Her freedom?’ he cut in.

‘Tyr, please. Don’t make it any harder for her,’ Britt begged him with a restraining hand on his arm. ‘You, of all people, can surely appreciate the value of sacrifice. So just say hello, be polite and then back off. All right?’

‘Thanks for writing the script for me, sis.’ He raised an amused brow.

‘Just don’t mess with Jazz. She’s got enough to contend with.’

‘I’ve no intention of messing with Jazz, as you put it, but I’d have to be wood from the neck up not to respond to such a beautiful woman.’

‘Just keep your feelings under wraps, Tyr. Spare Jazz the heartache. She’s always been half in love with you. And you’ve been alone a long time, remember.’

‘Relax, Britt. I’m not that desperate. I haven’t exactly been a saint while I’ve been away.’

‘You can find love in all sorts of unexpected places,’ Britt agreed, ‘but I don’t think Jazz is looking for the type of love you’re offering.’

He gave his sister an amused look. ‘I hope she isn’t looking for love at all.’

‘Why, Tyr?’ Britt’s stare pierced him. ‘Would you be jealous?’

‘Of Jazz’s suitors?’ He laughed that off. Offering Britt his arm, he led his sister deeper into the crowded room.

‘There are too many alphas in this room,’ Britt commented wryly as his sisters’ husbands Raffa and Roman waylaid him for a brisk man hug. ‘I may drown in testosterone.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll save you,’ Tyr offered as the men broke away to claim their wives.

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ Britt murmured.

When they drew closer to Jazz, Britt gave him a warning look and he squeezed her arm to reassure her. ‘I remember what you said. I respect Jazz. Always have, always will.’

He didn’t hear Britt’s reply. The hubbub of excited guests rolled over him like white noise as he kept his gaze fixed on Jazz. Bathed in light beneath a huge chandelier, she was chatting animatedly to an admiring group of women.

‘No, Tyr.’

He paused mid-stride with Britt at his elbow.

‘Don’t you remember what I said? Jazz is going to be heavily chaperoned tonight, and I won’t thank you for interfering.’

The corner of his mouth kicked up. ‘You still think I’m going to leap on her?’

‘I know that look in your eyes. When Jazz marries she’s stated her intention to be pure.’

He frowned. ‘What are you suggesting?’

‘You don’t put her in a compromising position. Go easy on her, Tyr. Jazz has barely left Kareshi since the day she was born. Coming to Skavanga is a big adventure for her.’

‘I’ve got no intention of spoiling anything for Jazz. If she has chosen to live her life according to the traditions of Kareshi, then I respect that.’

‘Good, because you might be the brother I adore, but if you hurt Jazz—’

‘You don’t have to say it, Britt.’

‘Don’t I?’ Britt followed his stare straight ahead to the slim, straight-backed girl wearing the long, concealing robes of Kareshi.

* * *

So much for her intention to live a chaste and pure life! Jazz’s intentions hadn’t changed, but her body was rebelling like you wouldn’t believe. Hyper-arousal was an involuntary reaction to a threat, and one glimpse of Tyr Skavanga was all it took to give her all the symptoms. Her muscles were primed for action, while she was tense and ready. Her heart was racing, and her breathing was hectic as adrenalin raced through her system, putting every nerve ending she possessed in super-receptive mode. The flight-or-fight mechanism common to all human beings, whether they were autocratic sheikhs, powerful Scandinavian warriors like Tyr or the highly protected sister of the ruling Sheikh Sharif of Kareshi, could not be controlled by force of will.

But it must be controlled, Jazz determined, glancing at her brother to make sure Sharif had not noticed her response to Tyr.

It wasn’t fear of Tyr Skavanga raising Jazz’s heartbeat as she continued to chat with the group of women surrounding her, but the excitement of rekindling a lifelong friendship with him that was as close to love as it could get. But they weren’t children any longer, and Jazz was an unmarried princess of Kareshi, which meant that to love a man outside the family, however innocent that love might be, was absolutely forbidden by the traditionalists in Kareshi. Sharif was a progressive ruler, but Jazz believed that things could only move so fast in a country mired in tradition, and only the fact that tonight was an unmissable family event had ensured her attendance at this party.

She had spent so many years thinking about Tyr, however, that it was impossible to put him out of her mind now he was practically within touching distance. No one knew where Tyr had been for all these years, except perhaps for Sharif, who had been his closest friend since school, and who was as annoyingly silent as the Sphinx on the subject of Tyr Skavanga. They had both attended an elite military college, that much she knew, and then they had both joined Special Forces, where Tyr had been decorated for his courage, but then he’d disappeared. ‘Into the desert,’ Sharif had told her vaguely. Sharif would never betray a friend’s confidence, but had explained that Tyr was working on rebuilding and repairing infrastructure that had been damaged during the years of conflict before Sharif ascended the throne.

Tyr’s life experiences had changed him, Jazz realised as she stared at him. There were shadows behind his eyes and deep lines furrowing Tyr’s strong face. Whatever her pledge regarding friendships with men outside the family, her heart went out to him.

And bounced when Tyr glanced at her.

It was as if he could feel her interest.

Her cheeks burned as she turned away. Surely Sharif had explained to Tyr that she might be working, and have all the outward appearance of being an independent woman, but she was bound by her duty to Kareshi, and was only marking time until her brother could arrange an advantageous marriage for her—advantageous for Kareshi, that was.

‘Skavanga is so glamorous these days, isn’t it?’

Thankful to be distracted, she turned to smile at the elderly woman standing next to her. ‘This is my first time in Skavanga,’ she admitted, ‘so I only know what my brother has told me about a place he’s come to love.’

‘Before diamonds were discovered in the family mine,’ the same woman continued, ‘Skavanga was just a tiny mining town beyond the Arctic Circle, scratching a living as best it could, but now our town glitters as brightly as the precious stones your brother mines. We have Sheikh Sharif to thank for playing a major role in the consortium that saved us.’

‘You’re very kind, but my sister-in-law, Britt, Sharif’s wife, has always been the driving force behind the Skavanga mining company.’

The older woman stared at Jazz approvingly as she stood on tiptoe to confide, ‘I’m surprised those three powerful men didn’t run Britt Skavanga out of town.’

Jazz laughed with all the other women at this reference to the three ambitious men who had formed the consortium that saved the mine. ‘I hardly think my brother would run his wife out of town. He adores Britt. And though it’s true the consortium provided the funds to mine the diamonds—without Britt?’ Jazz shrugged.

‘Britt Skavanga has always been a brilliant businesswoman,’ another woman confirmed, smiling at Jazz.

‘And now the brand Skavanga Diamonds is an international household name,’ the first woman supplied with admiration in her voice.

‘How can you all bear to talk business when Tyr Skavanga’s home?’

Jazz stared at the pretty young woman who had just spoken up, and couldn’t help noticing that the girl was staring at Tyr.

‘You must be as excited as I am,’ the girl said as she glanced around their group. ‘The marriage market has really opened up again. Don’t you agree, Princess Jasmina? Have you had chance to speak to Tyr Skavanga yet? I know your brother, His Majesty, and Tyr used to be close friends.’

‘They’re still friends.’ Jazz confirmed this pleasantly, knowing that it shouldn’t grate to such an extent to hear Tyr discussed so openly when he was such a private man. Why couldn’t she accept the interest of these women and agree with them?

‘Is that him over by the door?’ another younger woman who had just joined the group demanded.

‘How can you mistake him?’ the first one exclaimed with affront. ‘Tyr Skavanga is easily the best-looking man in this room.’

The latecomer frowned. ‘But I thought he was working rough in the desert?’

‘I think he might have had a shower since then,’ the old lady commented to general amusement.

Jazz couldn’t blame the women for being bowled over by Tyr’s compelling appearance. Dark and tall, he looked untouchable, yet commanding. Who wouldn’t want to know the secrets of a man like that?

‘He looks good for someone who’s been living like a nomad for so long,’ one woman commented.

‘Tyr has been working in the desert with the nomadic people,’ Jazz felt bound to explain. ‘The nomads have a very sophisticated society.’

The same woman feigned a swoon. ‘How romantic...billowing Bedouin tents, and long desert nights with a Viking warrior.’

By this time Jazz was tied up in a knot inside. ‘Tyr was in the desert building schools and looking for clean water sources.’

When everyone went quiet she could have bitten off her tongue. She hadn’t meant to sound preachy and spoil the fun, but to hear people talking about Tyr when they didn’t even know him, let alone the valuable work he was doing...

Tyr glanced at her and the world fell away. He would hate to think people were gossiping about him. And she had joined in, Jazz accepted as Tyr’s dark stare held hers briefly across the blurring faces of the crowd.

Sharif, who was as sharp as the ceremonial khanjar, the curved blade he wore suspended from the jewelled scabbard on his belt, missed nothing, and was instantly at her side. ‘Don’t you feel well, Jasmina?’

Touching her fingertips to her brow, she used Sharif’s reading of the situation to her advantage. ‘It is quite noisy, don’t you think? Perhaps I won’t stay long.’

She wanted to go almost as much as she wanted to stay. She didn’t know what she wanted to do.

She should do what was best, which meant staying for as long as politeness dictated and then leaving without drawing attention to herself in any way.

‘Just let me know when you’re ready to leave, Jasmina,’ Sharif said, reading her.

‘I will. Thank you.’ Gazing up, she touched his sleeve. Beneath his steely exterior Sharif was the kindest and most considerate man she knew.

‘And if you’re uncomfortable meeting Tyr, just let me know that too.’

‘I’m not uncomfortable. We were childhood friends.’

She hated deceiving Sharif, even in her thoughts, and had to take a few deep, steadying breaths. Had she really thought she could handle this?

Sharif’s hawk-like gaze flashed from Tyr to her. ‘Just so long as you’re all right with this, Jasmina?’

‘I am. Of course I am.’ But her lips felt as stiff as a ventriloquist’s doll. She had to face the truth. She couldn’t trust her feelings where Tyr Skavanga was concerned.

‘Tyr’s on his way.’

Sharif’s terse warning flashed through her, though she could feel Tyr’s approach without needing to turn and look. And then he was in front of them, just inches away.

Jazz remained frozen and stiff as the two men exchanged their customary bunched-fist greeting, then her brother stepped back and she was face-to-face with Tyr Skavanga. For a moment all she could do was study his face and log all the terrible changes, and then she remembered to breathe.

CHAPTER THREE

‘HOW WONDERFUL TO see you again, Tyr.’

‘And you, Jasmina.’

Wonderful? How inadequate words could be. Her world had been empty and now it was full. The strapping Viking was as fatally compelling as she remembered, but the changes in him were painful to see. Tyr had experienced a lot. Too much, Jazz sensed, and his eyes reflected this. He seemed harder and more cynical, though he was staring down at her with something close to humour in his clear, sharp gaze.

‘You’ve changed, Jazz.’

‘So have you.’ She said this lightly, but Tyr’s essence had changed—frighteningly. The days of teasing him were long gone.

‘How are you, Jazz?’

Tyr’s sharp gaze pierced her and clearly asked her: How are you really? Tell me the truth.

‘I’m very well, thank you. And you?’

Her stilted tone brought another flash of amusement to Tyr’s dark eyes. ‘You look well,’ he said.

Heat pooled inside her as he continued to stare down, making a nonsense of her decision to remain aloof from men. And how could she have forgotten the effect of his voice? Tyr’s deep, husky tone embraced her like a welcome memory from the past, even as it rang warning bells in her head.

‘We must find time to catch up, Jazz.’

She actually gasped at this suggestion. Did Tyr have any idea what he was suggesting? ‘Catching up’ implied an intimate one-to-one conversation, which was absolutely forbidden. Private time with a man apart from her brother, Sharif, could never happen, but as Sharif was called away to greet some of their other guests she found herself alone with Tyr. Jazz’s cheeks flamed red with embarrassment. The connection between them hadn’t been lost. If anything, the passage of time had only made it stronger.

Britt saved her. Having organised the event, Britt was easily the busiest woman in the room, but still she had spotted Jazz, who was marooned on her own personal desert island with Tyr, and quickly came across to offer a life raft.

‘Jazz, there are some people I think you’d like to meet. Excuse us, please, Tyr.’ Smiling briefly at her brother, she whisked Jazz away.

Jazz exhaled shakily as they crossed the ballroom. ‘Thank you for rescuing me.’

‘From those two dinosaurs?’ Britt laughed. ‘I could see Sharif’s tension a mile off, and when Tyr came over to speak to you I knew it was time to launch a rescue mission.’

Jazz glanced round to find Tyr was still watching her.

‘Come on.’ Britt squeezed her arm. ‘There are lots of great people for you to meet.’

Jazz counted herself lucky to have a sister-in-law like Britt on her side. Britt acted as a sounding board, and, with no other female relatives to confide in, it was reassuring to know she could always talk to Britt. Jazz really valued her growing friendship with the three Skavanga sisters, though doubted they understood her point of view where her chosen lifestyle was concerned, as they came from such a different world.

‘I’m going to introduce you to a really nice crowd,’ Britt promised, linking arms with Jazz. ‘We’ll leave the men to brood.’

Jazz blushed. She could feel Tyr’s stare on her back, halfway across the room.

‘Are you all right?’ Britt whispered discreetly during a lull in the conversation with the crowd they’d joined. ‘I saw the way you looked at Tyr.’

Britt’s eyes were full of compassion. Had everyone noticed? ‘I’m fine.’ She smiled to reassure Britt. ‘I can handle Tyr.’

Britt smiled back, but nothing about that smile convinced Jazz that Britt believed her as they both glanced around at Tyr. ‘He cares about you, Jazz. We all do.’

Impulsively, Jazz gave Britt a hug. Britt was the closest thing she had to a sister, but, however much she thought of Britt, nothing could derail Jazz’s determination to live a life beyond reproach in service to her country.

* * *

Jazz Kareshi was all grown up. Tyr’s mouth tugged fractionally at the irony of doing everything in his power to avoid finding his best friend’s sister attractive and failing miserably. Jazz had grown into a beautiful woman and he could look at nothing else. He should be grateful to Britt for whisking Jazz away before his interest became more obvious. The fact that Sharif had stood between him and Jazz until Sharif was called away had irritated the hell out of him. He’d known Jazz since she wore pigtails and braces; couldn’t they even talk to each other now? They were both powerful men, and used to having their own way, but it seemed there were some things Sharif would like to deny Tyr, like catch-up time with Jazz.

‘Jazz seems happy tonight,’ he commented when Sharif joined him, determined to find out everything there was to know about Jazz.

‘My sister is always happy. Why would she not be?’

‘No reason, Sharif.’ He returned Sharif’s suspicious glance with a level stare. ‘Are you trying to keep her away from me? Relax,’ he said as Sharif stiffened with affront. ‘Jazz is your sister and I respect that. I wouldn’t do anything to cause either of you embarrassment.’

‘Jasmina has chosen to distance herself from the modern world for her own reasons, not because anyone, least of all me, has tried to confine her.’

He stared into the eyes of a man he’d known and trusted most of his life, and knew instantly that Sharif was telling him the truth.

‘Jasmina believes that while I implement change for the better, she must reassure the more conservative groups in our country by remaining a very traditional princess. We will both do anything we can to avoid the chaos of our parents’ rule.’

‘I understand that, and I respect it,’ Tyr assured his friend, following Sharif’s stare across the room to where Jazz was standing. Both Sharif and Jazz were determined to do everything they could for their people, even if that meant sacrificing their own happiness.

‘Jasmina is finding the party a little overwhelming, I think,’ Sharif remarked as if reading his mind.

‘It must be a conflict for her—coming out into mixed company, I mean.’

They shared a smile as he remembered the tomboy who had been at the forefront of every adventure, while Sharif had always had to consider his dignity and look forward to what was best for Kareshi.

‘And you, Tyr?’ Sharif looked at him with concern. ‘How are you enjoying the party?’

‘Like Jazz. Mixing with so many people at once is something of an ordeal.’ His lips pressed down at this rueful admission, but both he and Jazz had chosen the solitary life, if for very different reasons. ‘But I’m grateful to Britt for arranging this party. Britt is right—I need to be back amongst people I love.’

This was true, but there were too many people here and far too much noise. Five minutes alone with Jazz, someone he didn’t have to explain every little thing to because they had that long history of friendship behind them, would have been more than enough for him, but he couldn’t share that opinion with Sharif.

‘Tyr—’

‘Over here—’

Another friend. Another photograph.

He should be more gracious. He would try, but the flare of candlelight on crystal was like a barrage of spotlights directed on his face. Everyone wanted to know where he’d been, what he’d done, what he’d seen. Only Jazz shone like a beacon in the midst of all the uproar. She was an oasis in the desert of his life, and his gaze sought her out hungrily.

‘I’m guessing you’d rather be back in the desert, Tyr?’

Jolted out of his reverie, he turned to lock stares with Sharif. ‘You guessed right.’

It was the silence of the desert that had first imprinted itself on his heart, and Sharif and Jazz were an integral part of the land he loved. He loved their harsh country and the hostile terrain. He loved them. The hardship of his work in the desert soothed him. It distracted him from other things, ugly things in his past. Up to tonight he’d had no wish to rekindle gentle feelings that seemed to have died inside him, but now?

‘I wish you the very best of evenings, Tyr.’

He refocused on Sharif.

‘But stay away from my sister.’

It took him a moment to realise that he’d been staring at Jazz the whole time they’d been talking.

‘Don’t make Jazz’s life even harder than she makes it for herself, Tyr.’

‘I wouldn’t do anything to hurt either of you,’ he assured his friend.

As he spoke, a group of guests chose that moment to draw Sharif away, leaving Tyr free to gaze at Jazz uninterrupted. Strange to think the happy, carefree girl he remembered would never be truly free again and that the best thing he could do for Jazz was to butt out of her life altogether.

He tried to ignore her. He chatted to some guests, but while Jazz was in the same room as him he couldn’t concentrate. Were they supposed to ignore each other for the rest of the night? He was so tense that his expression was fierce as he whirled around when someone touched his arm. He was shocked to see an old lady staring up at him. ‘I’m so sorry.’ His expression softened instantly. ‘Please forgive me.’

‘There’s no need to apologise,’ she said with a smile. ‘I just wanted to tell you how good it is to see the Skavanga family reunited. And I think it’s especially significant to see Sheikh Sharif’s sister here. I understand why Princess Jasmina has chosen to live her life the way she has. I was talking to her earlier. It must have been a big step for her to take, and an even bigger one for her to be here tonight. She’s obviously courageous. And what a beautiful girl she is. She is so lucky to have a brother who clearly adores her.’

Tyr made polite noises as the charming old lady chatted on, but what he really appreciated was the excuse to stare openly at Jazz. He’d been a prisoner of war for a time, and understood that captivity could be as much a condition of the mind as the body, and his heart went out to Jazz. He would not exchange one moment of his life now for Jazz’s confined existence, but he couldn’t blame her for her choices when Jazz was as much a servant to duty as he.

As if sensing his interest, Jazz turned to look at him, and for the briefest moment her expression held all the warmth and mischief of the past.

‘Well, I mustn’t take up all your time.’

Realising he’d been ignoring the old lady, he quickly turned to her. ‘You must once more forgive me. I was distracted.’

‘By Princess Jasmina?’ The old lady smiled up at him. ‘I’m not surprised.’

He shrugged with amusement at being caught out. These were good people, all keen to welcome him back, and he should show them more respect. He would. Tonight would go smoothly from now on, if he just could stick to one simple rule: Jazz Kareshi was off-limits.

But within moments a group had formed around him and all they wanted to talk about were his exotic friends from Kareshi. One of the women pointed to Sharif, who even Tyr had to admit looked striking in his flowing robes.

‘The sheikh is exactly what I think of when I imagine a desert warrior,’ she enthused. ‘Tell me, Tyr,’ she added with a smile, ‘did they hand out handsome pills at your school?’

‘No. Cold showers and the birch,’ he murmured distractedly, wondering what the crowd of young women around Jazz could have said to make her face light up. Leaving the women around him still exclaiming with outrage on his behalf at his comments about his old school, he made his way towards her. There was only one woman in this room who held his attention and only one woman in the world who could provoke any sort of response in him. He’d clamped down on feelings in order to survive, and had thought he’d lost the knack of feeling anything, until tonight.

Britt was in the same group as Jazz, and smiled as he walked up to them. Sharif’s hooded stare followed him across the crowded room. He glanced back to reassure his friend, and to tell him at the same time that they might be as close as brothers, but no one told Tyr how to live his life. But could he risk infecting a bright spirit like Jazz with his darkness? Hadn’t Jazz heaped enough pain on herself without him interfering? Freedom was a gift he had always taken for granted, but Jazz was a glaring example that life wasn’t always so straightforward. Jazz’s boundaries hadn’t expanded. When she grew up they had shrunk.

There was another quick look from Jazz that took him right back to the tricks they used to play on each other when they were younger: burrs beneath the saddle, itching powder in their riding boots. Innocent times before the shadows crept in. He’d have a short, polite conversation with her and then move on, he decided. What could be more innocent than that? He’d ask her about the riding stables. Britt had told him how much Jazz enjoyed working there. He wouldn’t make a single comment about the remote racing stable being yet another way for Jazz to shut herself off from the world. And he certainly wouldn’t tell her about the arousal that lanced through him each time their glances met and held. They were good friends. They would remain good friends. They had always been able to ease their way back into an easy friendship, even after months apart.

That was then and this is now, and now everything has changed.

True, the past could not be recaptured, and the future was not his to command, but seizing the moment was his particular skill and this chance to talk to Jazz was up for grabs.

CHAPTER FOUR

JUST AS TYR came within earshot, Britt whisked Jazz away, explaining that she had arranged the place cards on their table so that Jazz wouldn’t have to sit anywhere near Tyr, or any other single man. As Britt smiled reassurance into her eyes, Jazz was reminded again how much she valued their friendship.

‘I’m so glad you’re here to share Tyr’s homecoming. It wouldn’t have been the same without you, Jazz.’

‘I’m sorry if I seem tense to you.’

‘You feel awkward around men?’ Britt shrugged. ‘That’s hardly surprising. You should get out of Kareshi more. I’m going to speak to your brother about it.’

‘Please don’t give Sharif anything more to worry about. I’m happy in Kareshi. You know how much I love my work, and—’

‘And how you live under your own self-imposed guard while you’re there? Yes. I know all about that, Jazz—only allowing yourself this briefest of trips outside the country?’

‘I know you find the way I live hard to understand, but please believe me, Britt. This is the right thing to do for my country.’

Britt shook her head. ‘Locking yourself away can never be the right thing to do. It would benefit your people and you if you travelled more.’

‘I can never forget that I’m a princess of Kareshi,’ Jazz argued, trying her hardest not to glance at Tyr. ‘Or that with that title comes duty and responsibility.’

‘But not a ball and chain, surely?’

Britt’s expression made Jazz laugh. ‘Now you’re exaggerating. Anyone would think I was my own jailer.’

‘But aren’t you?’ Britt turned serious. ‘Beware of squashing your spirit completely, Jazz. Don’t turn yourself into something you’re not.’

Jazz’s eyes sparkled. ‘Like an embittered old shrew, do you mean?’

‘There’s no chance of that.’ Britt laughed. ‘And now we’ve got my brother to contend with.’ With a sigh she stood aside as the crowds parted to allow the handsome Viking through.

‘Don’t look so worried. I can handle Tyr.’

Jazz could only hope her heart was listening.

* * *

Tyr paused for a moment to check Sharif was still talking to the ambassador and his wife, before approaching the family table for dinner. He didn’t want to cause Jazz a moment’s discomfort, but, as if sensing his approach, Sharif called his sister over.

Britt walked over. ‘You’re looking thoughtful, Tyr.’

‘I am thoughtful.’

‘But you’ll stay and see the evening through?’

‘Of course I will. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.’

‘But you would have preferred something a little more low-key.’

‘No, in this you’re right,’ he admitted. ‘Better to see everyone at once.’

Britt cocked her head. ‘Get it over with?’

He looked at his sister with amusement. ‘I couldn’t possibly comment.’

And then the ever-changing pattern of friends reshaped again, leaving Jazz all alone in a halo of light.

Jazz made her way to the family table, only to find Tyr there ahead of her. Relaxing back on one of the gilt chairs, he was surveying the party with his cool dark gaze. She was about to turn around, to go and find Britt, or her brother, but Tyr was already on his feet, holding out a chair. ‘Jazz.’

No man should smile at her like that—so openly—so invitingly.

There was a belief in Kareshi that members of the opposite sex could never stare directly into each other’s eyes without there being some form of sexual implication.

‘Tyr.’ Had she always felt so awkward around him?

She knew the answer to that question. They had never been awkward with each other in the past, but a new tension had entered their relationship and that seemed set to stay. Neither of them was the same person they’d been ten years ago. Britt was right in saying a lot of water had passed under the bridge since then.

It was only when she sat down that Jazz realised Tyr had ignored Britt’s carefully arranged place cards completely. Britt had assured her she wasn’t going to be sitting anywhere near Tyr, so he must have moved the cards around.

So what was she going to do about it? Make some excuse and move halfway round the table? Wouldn’t that seem rude? Wouldn’t that be ridiculous, considering they were the only people at the table? Her heart thundered as Tyr’s mouth slanted in a smile.

‘So, what have you been doing with yourself while I’ve been away, Jazz?’

She stared into a pair of eyes that had always been able to devastate her nervous system. ‘Where to start?’ She gave a shaky laugh.

‘Jazz?’

Tyr’s voice sounded as if it were coming to her from a long way away, down an echoing tunnel. She should not be here. She should not be talking to a man. And this was not just any man, but Tyr Skavanga, a man who demanded every woman’s attention, especially Jazz’s, and to the point where, having stared into his eyes, she couldn’t look away. ‘It’s been a long time, Tyr.’

Tyr’s mouth curved with wry amusement at this comment. And no wonder, when that was probably the lamest thing she could have said. They’d been friends for years and she couldn’t think of a single question to ask him? Not even when she was so hungry to know every detail of Tyr’s missing life.

Sharing none of her reserve, Tyr continued to study her face as if he would like to record every tiny detail. This made her deeply uncomfortable, though thankfully, Britt was heading towards them at speed. And then out of the blue her courage returned, and, holding Tyr’s gaze, she accepted the connection, as she told him with her eyes that things could never be the same between them again, and that he mustn’t tease her and flirt with her as if she were still ten years old.

‘Tyr?’ Britt’s voice sounded brittle as she hovered over them. ‘Have you changed my place cards around?’

‘Would I?’ Resting back in his chair, Tyr cast a lazy glance up at his sister, which made Britt huff impatiently, but it was too late for Britt to change them round again as some important guests had arrived and were waiting to be seated.

Neither Sharif nor Tyr could ever be said to have forgotten their manners. They were both round the table in an instant, holding chairs out for their visitors. Sharif even put a restraining hand on Britt’s arm when she would have changed places with Jazz. ‘The ambassador,’ he murmured discreetly.

Damned by etiquette, Jazz thought as Tyr sat down at her side. The ambassador and his wife were Britt’s guests of honour tonight, and as Britt and Sharif were hosting the party it was unthinkable that the ambassador would sit next to anyone but Britt.

When everyone was seated and chatting happily, Britt managed a discreet word while Tyr was talking to the ambassador. ‘Are you sure you’re all right sitting here next to Tyr, Jazz?’

Smiling, Jazz confirmed, ‘Of course I am.’

What else could she say?

* * *

Was she the only one to feel the tension building around the table? Jazz wondered. She was doing everything she could to ignore Tyr, but he was sitting so close, her whole body was tingling with awareness. How could she remain insensible to his heat, or to the compelling presence of the big Viking at her side? She had forbidden herself every sensual delight reality could offer, and exploring the forbidden in her mind had become a favourite pastime. But not tonight. She must not allow her thoughts to wander tonight. Gathering her robe a little closer, she forced the direction of her thoughts away from the devastating man at her side.

For around five seconds.

‘Would you like some water, Jazz?’

Staring into Tyr’s eyes made her heart race. ‘Yes, please.’ She sounded so formal and distant. Which was good, she reminded herself, even if it was directly opposed to what was happening inside her.

‘Will you be staying in Skavanga long, Princess Jasmina?’

She turned with relief to the woman sitting on her other side, but even that didn’t help, because her mind had taken a photograph of Tyr that meant she could chat intelligently enough, while studying every detail of Tyr in her mind. His hair was thick and tawny, and sun-bleached around his face where it hung in rebel tousles no matter how many times he swept it back. His stubble was sharp and black, and thick, though he must have shaved before he came to the party...and she could smell his cologne. Everything about him spelled danger. Everything about Tyr Skavanga was what she had vowed to avoid. He was wearing black on black tonight, when every other man at the table, apart from Sharif in his ceremonial robes, was dressed in a conventional dinner suit, with a conventional shirt and a conventional tie. Tyr had always bucked the trend, she remembered.

‘More water, Princess?’ Tyr’s gravelly voice shook her round. ‘Or something else, perhaps?’

‘No, thank you.’ How prim she sounded. But those wicked eyes— How dared he look at her like that? Storm-grey and darkening, Tyr’s eyes were lit with a disturbing understanding of her inner turmoil. He had always been able to read her mind. It was a skill that had made her mad when she was younger, and which now made her uncomfortably aware. And that firm mouth that she had all too often imagined kissing her.

She must forget that now.

She must!

‘Are you sure? No more water?’ he prompted.

Her cheeks flamed red. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Frowning, she looked at him with what Jazz realised was the type of black look she would have given him when they were both younger, which was far too intimate a reminder of how close they’d once been.

‘Your napkin, Jazz?’

She dragged in a sharp breath as Tyr leaned towards her. Shaking out her napkin, he moved to lay it on her lap. His face was so close to hers, her cheeks were burning. The brush of starched linen against her skin sent shivers of arousal streaking through her. The whisper of its touch against her thigh shocked her to think that she could be so easily seduced. Tyr was a force of nature, Jazz reassured herself. Anyone would feel as she did. She should leave now and have nothing more to do with him.

‘You look beautiful tonight, Jazz.’

You can’t say that!

But how she wanted to hear it.

Tyr’s eyes were warm and amused when she didn’t reply. Didn’t he know how dangerous this was? Didn’t he care?

Eva saved the day, taking control of the conversation around the table. Smiling at her brother proudly, Eva proceeded to tell everyone that Tyr had been born with a map and compass in his hand, and when everyone laughed, Jazz was able to relax as the spotlight swung away from her.

But not for long.

‘How do you feel about wanderlust, Jazz?’

Why did Tyr have to ask her that question? Why did he have to speak to her at all? She stared into his eyes. This was her opportunity to make her position clear to him. ‘I’ve always believed there’s no place like home, and so far I’ve had no reason to change my mind.’ Unless a marriage organised by Sharif took her to a new country, and a new family, where Jazz had no doubt she would be treasured like one of the hard, blue-white diamonds her brother and Tyr mined. She experienced a chill of apprehension at that thought. And then with everything inside her warning her to leave it, she turned back to Tyr. ‘I have never felt your desire to keep moving and searching.’

‘Maybe because you’ve never given yourself that chance,’ Tyr cut in, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at her with amusement.

‘Tyr’s dangerous to know and even more dangerous to love,’ Eva confided across the table, laughing as everyone else laughed with her.

Jazz laughed too, thankful to Eva for diluting the tension with a joke. Joining in with the laughter seemed safest, and she thanked her lucky stars she would never be in a position to find out just how dangerous Tyr Skavanga could be.

‘We never know when Tyr’s going to disappear again,’ Eva continued, capturing everyone’s attention again. ‘He might not be there if I blink.’

More laughter followed this, but Jazz felt a pang of loss as if Tyr had already left them.

‘Don’t worry. I’m sticking around,’ he confided, but why couldn’t he say that to the whole table, instead of just to her?

He pretty much kept his promise to leave Jazz alone right up to the moment when Britt mounted the rostrum to deliver her speech of welcome and the lights dimmed. This left Britt alone in the spotlight and the rest of the room in shadow. Sharif had turned his chair around to listen to his wife, encouraging everyone else at the table to do the same.

‘What?’ Jazz murmured when she felt his interest switch to her. ‘Will you please stop staring at me, Tyr?’

‘No.’

Jazz’s voice was a fierce whisper, his was a lazy drawl, and her little growl of anger could have come straight from the old days, and that made him smile. Then she must have decided that if he was going to provoke her, she was going to lob back some polite and wholly innocuous conversation, and as he continued to study Jazz at his leisure, he was so engrossed he barely heard her question.

When he’d computed it, he frowned. ‘Did I manage to bring water to that village?’ he repeated. ‘Yes, I did. How do you know about that?’

‘Don’t worry. Sharif didn’t betray you. I happened to see the invoice for aqua-cleaning machinery come in, and I knew Sharif didn’t have any current projects running, so I put two and two together.’

‘And came up with me?’

‘I do have some original thoughts that aren’t stamped approved by my brother.’

‘I’m sure you do. And was that a hint of amusement in your voice I detected, Princess?’

She raised a brow. ‘Am I so dull?’

He paused. ‘You’ve changed.’

‘Don’t mock me, Tyr. I’m not sixteen any longer.’

‘This I can see for myself.’

‘Then you shouldn’t be looking.’

They were silent for some time after that.

The speeches ended and the prizes had all been handed out. The lights went up and Britt returned to their table to be congratulated by Sharif. His friend was a different character when he was with Britt, Tyr noted. Britt was a soothing hand on the warrior brow—something Tyr badly needed.

Anything that could distract him from his feelings for Jazz—feelings that clawed at his senses—would be good.

‘You’re like a seething volcano of pent-up energy,’ Eva commented, picking up on his tension. ‘Thor minus the hammer, unless you’re keeping that under the table?’

He hummed with amusement as he settled back. Eva knew him too well. She could sense his hunting instinct. He was the wolf. Jazz was the petal in danger of being trampled underfoot. Watching Britt persuade Sharif to dance, he felt his hunting instinct sharpen as one by one the other couples at the table joined them, leaving just one elderly man and woman to chaperone him and Jazz. And as the elderly couple were currently engrossed in their own conversation...

‘So, Princess Jasmina.’

Taking a deep breath, Jazz turned to stare at him. ‘Can the Sunday title, Tyr. You don’t need to pretend with me. You’ve called me Jazz from the first time we met, and I’m still Jazz to you.’

Mentally, he reeled back with surprise, then rebuked himself for forgetting that Jazz might have changed outwardly, but inwardly she was the same girl. He searched her eyes, but she turned away, then tensed when a group passed by and bowed to her in respect for her rank. ‘You can’t blame people,’ he pointed out as Jazz chewed her lip unhappily. ‘You’re not the tomboy to them you always were to me. You’re a princess.’

‘But that’s just it, Tyr. I can’t buy into the title when I haven’t done anything to deserve it.’

‘But you will,’ he said confidently, relieved that at least they were talking.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Jazz admitted with a sigh. ‘But I don’t feel any different from anyone else. Except...’

‘Except?’ he prompted, angling his chin to stare into her eyes.

‘Except I think you should bow to me.’

She said this with all the old humour and, sitting back, Tyr laughed with relief to think the girl he used to know was still in there somewhere. ‘Now, why should I bow to you, Princess?’

‘Viking warlords need to be put in their place by a princess of the desert.’

‘And what place is that?’

Jazz’s cheeks flushed attractively with heat. ‘A dungeon, preferably,’ she said as if realising that this conversation had already gone too far.

‘But I didn’t think you were frightened of anything?’

She fixed him with an unwavering gaze. ‘You’re right. I’m not.’

‘So if there’s any little service I can offer you, at that time and that time only, I will be sure to bow.’

For once in his life he broke eye contact first. If any other woman had looked at him the way Jazz had so briefly looked at him, he would have anticipated a very different outcome to this evening. High time for a reminder that when it came to the mating game, Jazz was so innocent she didn’t know the rules.

But he couldn’t ignore her for long. ‘You look good, Jazz. Life is obviously treating you well.’

‘Very well, thank you,’ she said primly. ‘You look good too.’

He huffed with amusement. ‘There’s no need for you to be polite with me.’

As Jazz’s eyes clouded with concern, he warned, ‘Don’t get into it. This is a party, remember?’

‘A party in your honour, Tyr, so I’m afraid you have to accept that people care about you. I don’t suppose anyone knows how to behave around you when you’ve been away for so long.’

He sat back. He liked this new Jazz. She was as much of a challenge beneath that prim exterior as she had ever been, but he liked the wild child from the past better. This new version of Jazz was a tightly strung instrument that only played to Jazz’s self-imposed restrictive tune.

‘It might help if you talked about things that matter to you, Tyr, like the ideals you were fighting for.’

‘Like what?’ He tensed. She had hit a nerve. It was Jazz that had the problem, not him.

‘Like freedom, Tyr,’ Jazz said calmly.

‘Freedom?’ He laughed incredulously as he stared at her. ‘And what do you know about that?’

‘What do you mean?’ she protested. ‘I’m free.’

‘Are you, Jazz?’

She couldn’t meet his eyes, and then she whispered, ‘You always represented freedom to me, Tyr.’

‘I did?’ An invisible hand grabbed his heart. Years of feeling nothing had hit the buffers tonight, he realised, and all thanks to Jazz Kareshi.

‘You’ve always done what you wanted, Tyr,’ she explained. ‘You could go where you wanted, do what you wanted to do, when you wanted to.’

‘You can too,’ he insisted, staring hard into Jazz’s eyes. ‘This is the twenty-first century.’

‘Not in Kareshi.’ Jazz smiled. ‘And we should stop talking like this before someone takes a photograph of us having this conversation.’

‘Britt wouldn’t allow the paparazzi within a hundred miles of here,’ he reassured her as Jazz flashed an anxious gaze around.

‘Please don’t tease me, Tyr.’ There was real concern in her voice. ‘You’ve got no idea what it’s like for Sharif in Kareshi. He’s doing everything he can to help our people, but a strident minority still continues to rail against progress. I’m doing all I can to reassure that section of our society.’

‘Public opinion will do that,’ he argued. ‘Sacrificing yourself will hardly be noticed in the grand scheme of things, but your life will have been ruined—and all by you.’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.