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.
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,
