His Forbidden Diamond

‘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 impossible.’

Jazz whipped her head away so fast her veil slipped back. Before she could rearrange it, the soft nape of her neck was revealed as her hair swung to one side. The wave of disappointment that hit him when she quickly pulled the veil forward and that delicate sliver of naked flesh disappeared was a real eye-opener. He really did have it bad. And then Jazz proved his suspicion that the grit was still there when she stood to propose a toast. Raising her glass of juice, she turned to face Britt.

‘I would like to propose a toast of thanks to a wonderful woman and a dear friend: my brother’s wife, Britt. I want to thank you on behalf of everyone here for the work you’ve put in to make tonight such a wonderful success. I couldn’t love you more if you were my own sister.’ Emotion made Jazz pause for a moment as murmurs of approval rose around her. ‘The charity we’re supporting tonight means a lot to all of us seated round this table, and tonight is also an opportunity for us to welcome Tyr home.’

Tyr tensed as Jazz stared straight at him. This evening would be over soon, but something told him the repercussions from tonight would spread out like ripples on a pond and touch them all.

* * *

Even after a few days, it still felt strange being at home with his sisters after so long away. All four of them together at one time like this was practically unique, but Britt, Eva and Leila had put their husbands out to graze for the day so they could spend time with him—and with Jazz. At least, that was what they’d told him, but for the past half-hour they’d cut him out and talked exclusively to Jazz. And in ever-diminishing whispers that left him super-alert and ultra-suspicious.

‘You’re not supposed to be listening,’ Eva complained when he glanced up. ‘Get back to watching sport.’

Yes. He was the token man, allowed to remain in the same room as his sisters and Jazz, providing he took the lid off the nuts and poured the sodas for them. With his feet crossed on the coffee table and a bottle of beer in his hand, he’d been invisible up to this point.

‘Could you speak up?’ he requested dryly. ‘I’m having trouble hearing you.’

‘If you must know,’ Eva fired at him from her position at the head of the table, ‘Jazz is in a fix.’

‘A fix? What does that mean?’ He swung round to stare at Jazz.

‘It’s nothing.’ Jazz tried to brush this off with an airy sweep of her hand.

‘You’ve started, so you might as well finish,’ he observed dryly, noting her cheeks had turned bright red.

‘If you must know,’ Eva cut in, ‘Jazz has today received a formal offer from the Emir of Qadar.’