can’t go round kissing men and proposing to them.’
Jazz’s cheeks flamed red. ‘Yes, I know. I feel embarrassed about that. If I’d had my choice you’d have been a long way down the queue.’
He laughed, relieved to see her relaxing at least a little. ‘You’re a beautiful woman, Jazz. You don’t need to do any of that. And I’m not just talking about what the world sees. You’re beautiful inside, and you deserve better.’
‘Than you?’
‘Much better than me. And better than some emir you don’t even know. You’ll fall in love one day, and when that day comes you won’t want baggage. Believe me, I know all about that.’
‘You’re not married, are you?’ Her smile vanished.
‘Me? No. The women I meet have got more sense.’
‘I think you’d be a good catch,’ Jazz argued.
‘Do you?’ Once again they were staring at each other and all sorts of wicked thoughts were flying through his head, but best of all was the fact that maybe their friendship could move on now.
‘Why don’t you tell me about the baggage, Tyr?’
It had always been a mistake to relax around Jazz.
She stared at him in silence for a moment. ‘It’s another of those things you don’t want to talk about, isn’t it, Tyr?’
He shrugged. ‘You’ve known me most of your life, Jazz, but people change over time.’
‘So I’ll get to know you all over again.’ She met his stare steadily. ‘I don’t see anything different, Tyr. I just see you. And I’m not afraid of anything you have to tell me, but I think you are.’
‘Where are we going with this?’
‘If you point-blank refuse to tell me about your past, then all that’s left to talk about is you agreeing to marry me.’
She said this lightly as he raked his hair with frustration. ‘I thought you’d agreed we would forget that.’
‘You’re not making this easy for me, Tyr.’
‘Easy?’ He laughed. ‘Nothing about this situation is easy, Jazz.’
She huffed a smile. ‘Bet marriage was the last thing on your mind when you heaved me out of that sand drift.’
He slanted her an amused glance. ‘You could say.’
‘And now if you don’t marry me, I will be known to one and all as the disgraced princess of Kareshi. My people will never forgive you for that,’ she said, growing serious, ‘and neither will Sharif. He might be a forward-thinking leader, but he would never do anything to risk losing the hard-won trust of our people. I’m sorry, Tyr, but there really is no alternative—for either of us.’
‘Do you know how mad that sounds?’
‘Not mad,’ Jazz said sadly, ‘realistic. The emir won’t have me now, and neither would any other man in our world. I could run away and live somewhere else, I suppose, but I wouldn’t be much use to my people.’
For once he was lost for words. Finally, he said tensely, ‘Can you hear that?’
Jazz frowned. ‘Hear what, Tyr?’
‘Exactly.’ The wind had dropped. ‘The storm has passed over. People will be on their way round to check up on you very soon and you don’t want me here when that happens.’
‘It’s too late to worry about that, Tyr,’ Jazz assured him with a rueful smile.
Freeing the storm sheet, he stepped outside. Unfortunately, Jazz was right. He stopped short on the threshold of the pavilion as a group of villagers came up to him, wanting to know their princess was safe. He saw the exchange of glances when he tried to reassure them, then realised they assumed Jazz was safe because he had been with her throughout the storm. How could he betray these good people? He couldn’t indulge his wanderlust any more than Jazz could run away. He was definitely going to stay and see this out.
As he walked away, he could feel the villagers’ stares on his back. They weren’t hostile—quite the contrary. They seemed delighted by the developing relationship between him and Jazz. There was just one thing wrong with that. He didn’t want a wife, and the last person on earth he’d risk sweeping into his dark world was Jazz, though he could still feel the brush of her lips against his cheek, and the softness of her body beneath his hands. He would never forget how she’d trembled when he’d barely touched her, or her delicious scent that wound round his senses. He wanted Jazz in every way that a man could want a woman, but would he be forced into marrying her? That was too crazy to contemplate, and it wasn’t going to happen. There had to be a way out of this for both of them. And whatever that way was, he would find it.
HE SPENT A restless night and was out before dawn the next day. He had to get out and think. He had to drive himself hard until the right idea came to him. The chill of night was still in the air he rode into the echoing canyon. An underground stream surfaced and ran from here to feed the oasis. It deepened into a small lake or wadi, from which the nearby village took its name. This was where he usually stopped to let his horse drink.
Easing back in the saddle, he allowed his mount to pick out a safe path down the steep embankment to the water, where he dismounted. Stretching, he turned to run up his stirrups and make the horse comfortable. Loosening its girth, he secured the reins and gave it an encouraging slap on the neck, though after their fast gallop here his horse needed no encouragement to drink. Stripping off his shirt and jeans, he dived into the icy water. It cleared his mind and soothed him as he worked out where to go from here.
He needed space from Jazz to figure out how to leave without ruining her. It was too late to regret what had happened. He had to find a solution that would work for both of them. Jazz had led a sheltered life, but that hadn’t stopped her dreams being big. He could relate to that. Now she was old enough, she was putting those dreams to good use on behalf of her people. He could relate to that too. The sister of his closest friend, a woman he found dangerously attractive, should have been the perfect match for him—would have been perfect, if he hadn’t had so many ghosts dogging his footsteps.
He took out his frustration in a powerful freestyle stroke that took him within sight of the dunes at the far end of the wadi. Swimming back, he waded out and shook the water off himself like a wolf. Reaching for his jeans, he tugged them on and shut his eyes, as if that would close out the image of Jazz.
Then his horse whinnied, and, shading his eyes, he saw her riding flat out. He would have known her anywhere. No other woman rode with Jazz’s grace and elegance, or with such confidence. Silhouetted against the pale sapphire sky of dawn, with her hair flying loose like a banner, she was leaning low over her horse’s neck. He followed her progress with admiration, and then she spotted him. Goodness knew how she knew exactly where he was standing travelling at that speed, but she reined in and rode directly towards him. Something twisted inside him as she approached. Jazz belonged here, just as he did. She was in her element riding free in the desert, but as a deserted wife she would never be free again in Kareshi,
