a grown man,’ he cut in, having heard enough. ‘Sharif is a proven ruler. What about your life, Jazz? What about you?’
‘Me?’
He didn’t know which of them was surprised more by his passionate outburst.
‘Kareshi is my life,’ Jazz insisted. ‘Anything I can do to help my country I’ll do gladly.’
‘You’re repeating yourself, Jazz,’ he said. ‘And if you really want to help your country, why not stay in Kareshi and work?’
‘But the emir... I agreed Sharif could meet with him.’
‘And you can stop him doing that in a few words.’ He fixed Jazz with a stare, which she avoided.
Heaving a sigh, she glanced around, presumably to see if anyone had noticed this heated discussion. ‘I don’t want to stop him,’ she admitted, leaning close. ‘If my marriage to the emir will benefit Kareshi, then that’s good enough for me.’
‘What you’ve just suggested is outrageous.’ He sat back. Subject closed.
‘Fine words, Tyr, but you weren’t born into the royal family of Kareshi. You’re free to do anything you want and I’m not. It’s that simple.’
‘Nothing is ever that simple.’ As he should know.
Grinding his jaw with frustration, he had to remind himself that this was a party, and that it was better for them both to calm down. At least for now.
THERE WAS NO more chance to speak as Britt and Sharif had returned to sit at the table. In spite of his lifelong friendship with Sharif, he couldn’t believe his friend was going along with Jazz’s crazy idea, or that neither of them could talk Jazz out of the narrow path she had chosen to follow.
‘Stop seething, Tyr.’
The sound of Jazz’s voice, low and urgent, made him turn to look at her.
‘You’re making me uncomfortable,’ she explained in an undertone, ‘and people will notice.’
‘You’re making me uncomfortable with all this talk of an arranged marriage to a man you don’t even know,’ he countered. ‘What makes you think you’ve changed that much, Jazz? When you were younger you would have laughed an idea like that out of court.’
‘Exactly. We’re both older now, and I’m in a position to do something to help my country by making at least one of our borders secure.’
Shaking his head to shut her up, he hit Jazz with a cynical look.
‘Allying our two countries will be good for Kareshi,’ she insisted.
‘But Kareshi is rich, since Sharif took over, and your brother is a wise ruler. Why the hell would he agree to sacrificing his sister for nothing more than political expediency?’
‘If he thinks it makes me happy—’
‘Ha! I can’t believe Sharif goes along with that.’
‘Tyr, please keep your voice down.’
‘Whatever you say, Princess, but I don’t think you’ve thought this through.’
‘I’m not going to argue with you. I’m saying this is how it’s going to be.’
‘What happened to the girl I used to know?’
Jazz threw him an accusatory look, but there was something in her eyes that suggested deep down she agreed with him. It was sad to think her stubbornness wouldn’t allow Jazz to admit she was wrong so she could put a stop to these crazy marriage plans.
Sensing 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
