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‘For goodness’ sake, Eva, will you stop teasing Jazz?’ Leila cautioned as she came up on Jazz’s other side. ‘Can’t you see she’s not in the mood?’
The crowd fell back as they sat Jazz on a camel that had been specially shampooed for the occasion. It was caparisoned with handwoven wedding finery, heavily embroidered with silver thread and tinkling bells, and its swaying gait would announce Jazz’s arrival long before Tyr could see her. A collective sigh rippled through the waiting crowd as Jazz drew close to the wedding arbour, which had been decorated with colourful desert flowers. Some of the villagers had climbed up the palm trees to catch a better view of her, and she waved and smiled to them, wishing she could live out their fantasies for her with Tyr.
Tyr. Surely he’d turned up, or someone would have stopped the wedding procession, wouldn’t they?
Her gaze found him immediately and relief flooded through her, swiftly followed by the most excitement yet. Dressed in a plain white robe that outlined his impressive frame, Tyr was the only person not looking at her when she arrived. He didn’t even glance her way when the boy leading her camel gave it the instruction to kneel, and then helped her to dismount. Perhaps Tyr had persuaded himself that if he didn’t look at her, he could preserve the illusion that this was just a bad dream.
And then he turned and it was as if the air had been sucked from her lungs. The look he gave her was devastating. She could almost convince herself that Tyr really did want to marry her.
A great roar rose from the crowd as Sharif left Tyr’s side to escort Jazz under the wedding arbour.
‘Brother.’ Dipping into a low curtsy brought on another loud cheer.
‘You look very beautiful, Jasmina,’ Sharif commented as he brought her to her feet in front of him.
Jazz met her brother’s keen stare steadily. Everything was going to be all right. She had to believe that, though she couldn’t help wondering what the two men had been discussing during their ride. It was too late to ask Sharif now, and she could only be grateful to Britt for smiling reassurance at her as Sharif gave Jazz’s hand into Tyr’s keeping.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SOMETHING HAPPENED WHILE she was standing beneath the wedding arbour alongside Tyr. The turmoil inside her settled and she was filled with a deep sense of calm. Tyr was so strong and true, it was hard not to react that way to him. And he was as passionate and as committed to Kareshi as she was. And though he hadn’t wanted this marriage, she had been a fool to doubt he would turn up. Tyr would never flinch from duty any more than she would.
But forget duty. She loved him. She loved Tyr with all her heart, Jazz thought as she stared up at the magnificent Viking at her side. She had always loved Tyr and she always would.
‘Do you take this man...?’
‘Yes.’ Her answer was unhesitating.
‘Do you take this woman...?’
‘I do.’
Tyr’s voice was firm and low and measured. It was the type of voice that inspired confidence. And it did, inside her. Was she fooling herself? She hoped not, for, against all the odds, she sensed they both knew that what they were doing was right.
Loveless, maybe, but right, Jazz told herself as the formal part of the ceremony drew to a respectful close, and Tyr, who was now her husband, led her carefully down the steps.
* * *
Could anything be more romantic? If the night sky had been magical, surely the setting for their wedding feast could not have been more beautiful? The temperature was perfect with just the slightest breeze to play with Jazz’s veil. She was seated alongside Tyr on a bank of silken cushions arranged on a priceless rug. They were seated well apart in accordance with tradition, and they hadn’t spoken a word to each other since exchanging their vows. This was the expected behaviour of a new bride and groom in Kareshi, but Tyr had certainly taken to the detachment with ease. He was unemotional to a fault, his expression composed, but distant. Until he turned to her and her stomach lurched.
‘Would you care for some fruit, or some Arabian coffee?’
She tried to detect some warmth in his voice, but it was the same neutral tone Tyr had used throughout the wedding ceremony. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, Jazz reminded herself, every bit as much as any marriage she might have made to a stranger. She accepted fruit and coffee, knowing she’d taste neither. A young boy stood beside her, waiting to peel the fruit for the bride, should she wish him to, but neither he nor Tyr spoke another word to her, not even when she thanked the boy for filling her jewelled goblet with juice.
