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‘Why are you crying?’ Eva demanded in her no-nonsense way. ‘Do you want red, puffy eyes? This is supposed to be a happy time.’ This was followed by a big sigh and worried glances Eva exchanged with her sisters.
If her eyes weren’t puffy before, they were now. Jazz bit back a laugh as Eva mopped her face vigorously with the sleeve of her rough cambric shirt.
‘Enough!’ Leila winked at Jazz. ‘We’re not here to administer exfoliation. We’re here to act as cheerleaders for the bride.’
Having nudged Eva out of the way, Leila put her arm around Jazz’s shoulders. ‘Everyone gets emotional on their wedding day, and we couldn’t be happier that you are taking our brother off our hands. So don’t worry about it, because we’re all here to help.’
But nothing got past Tyr’s oldest sister. Britt was staring at Jazz with concern, having sensed in a nanosecond that all was not well with the blushing bride, though to her credit, Britt kept those thoughts to herself.
The sun was already blazing like a merciless brand in a cloudless blue sky as they got down to some serious wedding preparations. Why did time pass so quickly when you wanted it to drag? She wanted this. She didn’t want this. She was far too tense to enjoy the moment. She longed to confess everything to Tyr’s sisters and seek advice, but she could hardly do that. She couldn’t even be certain that she hadn’t driven Tyr away again. And how would his sisters feel about that, when they’d only just got him back?
They would never forgive her, and she would never forgive herself.
‘So, you’re nervous about the wedding night?’
‘Eva, do you have to be so blunt?’ Leila reprimanded her.
‘Yes, I think I do,’ Eva insisted, circling Jazz like a mother hen.
Jazz blenched at the thought of revealing her ignorance where matters between a man and a woman were concerned to the three Skavanga sisters, but the women of the village had left the tent to bring Jazz the precious wedding jewels they wanted her to wear, so there was nothing to stop Eva continuing her interrogation.
‘It’s a simple question.’ Eva paused. ‘I take it from your public announcement that you’re still a virgin, Jazz?’
‘And what a question.’ Leila showed her outrage on Jazz’s behalf. ‘Jazz, you don’t have to answer that.’
Jazz forced a confident smile. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to.’ She added a laugh. But Eva was right. She was scared out of her skin. She didn’t have any sexual experience, and, with only old wives’ tales to go on, her expectations were hardly encouraging. So here was her dilemma: if Tyr did turn up, she would be afraid of the thought of their wedding night. If he didn’t turn up, it would be an unmitigated disaster all round, as well as a tragedy for his sisters, who had only just got used to having him around again. And she would be the cause of that disaster.
‘Well, she either is a virgin or she isn’t,’ Eva insisted stubbornly, without the slightest hint of remorse as she helped herself to a giant-sized lump of honeyed halva. ‘There is no in-between. And if the answer’s yes, then all I’m saying is that I’m prepared to offer a few useful tips.’
Britt responded calmly. ‘Thank you for that insightful comment, Eva, but I really don’t think this is the moment for a session of your helpful hints.’
‘Eva, can’t you remember how you begged us for peace and quiet on your wedding day?’ Leila asked. ‘Don’t you remember how hard it is to remain calm while everyone’s adding their own piece of advice? If you must pace up and down the tent munching and scowling, why don’t you at least make yourself useful? You could go and find the henna lady to find out how long she’s going to be.’
Eva’s face fell and she stopped pacing immediately. ‘Jazz, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’
Leaping up, Jazz gave Eva a hug. How she longed to ask Eva for some much-needed help so she could get through the ordeal of the marriage night ahead of her, but how could she admit to being a virgin, let alone explain that she was likely to remain a virgin long after tonight?
‘I’ll go with Eva to help find the henna lady,’ Leila offered tactfully, sensing Britt would like some time alone with Jazz.
The moment the cover was over the entrance, Britt asked Jazz the one question she’d been dreading. ‘What’s wrong, Jazz? Can you tell me?’
Jazz heaved a long sigh. It was so tempting to tell Britt everything. She had often longed for a sister to confide in, but Britt ran a company and had Sharif to consider. Did Britt need anything else to worry about? ‘It’s nothing. Just pre-wedding nerves.’
