‘I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. The headman says it’s very good news.’
For whom? he wondered.
‘I’m hoping it’s a reply to the mail I sent to Sharif, requesting more funding for the school,’ Jazz explained.
‘So what is he saying now?’ he demanded as the headman waved his arms and called for silence. A cold blade of dread sliced through him as Jazz paled and swayed. She looked as if she was about to faint. ‘What is it, Jazz? What is he saying?’
‘We’ve got the money for the school.’
‘Aren’t you happy about that?’
‘Of course I am. And the headman has just explained that we will both be staying on to supervise the setting up of the school.’
‘Both?’ He frowned.
‘Tyr—I don’t know what to say— Everything’s out of control— This is all going too fast—’
‘What is?’ he demanded.
‘The headman just confirmed that Sharif has also agreed to his request that when I do get married it will be here in the village.’
A storm of emotion hit him as cheers rose around them. ‘Not to the emir, I hope?’
‘Not to the emir,’ Jazz confirmed to his relief, but the tears in her eyes did nothing to reassure him.
‘Then to whom?’ he demanded, the punch in his gut delivering the answer before Jazz had chance to speak.
‘The headman’s somehow got the idea that I’ll be marrying you,’ Jazz told him faintly above the roar of the crowd.
CHAPTER NINE
‘WE NEED TO TALK, JAZZ.’
‘We certainly do,’ she agreed, all business now, ‘but not here and not now. These people deserve everything we can do for them, but the one thing they don’t need is our problems on their shoulders.’
The meeting was breaking up. ‘We’ve got work to do. You go and round up the children, while I make sure everyone gets home safely.’
‘And then we’ll talk,’ Jazz assured him tensely.
‘You bet we will. I’ll come and find you.’
‘Tell me you’re not thinking of coming round to check out my accommodation?’
‘The headman’s little speech has changed nothing, Jazz. I still owe it to your brother to keep you safe, so, however much of a pain in the backside you are, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.’
‘I’ve lived in the desert all my life, Tyr.’
‘In a palace, Jazz.’
‘Have you forgotten our camp-outs when we were younger?’
How could he ever forget? Worms in his bed? Stones in his boots?
‘Back off, Tyr. Just leave me to work this out, will you?’
‘I’d love to,’ he assured her, ‘but something tells me it’s going to take a concerted effort to solve this one. And right now, I have bigger concerns, like making sure you’re safe. One thing I do know is that Sharif would never forgive me if any harm came to you. More importantly, I would never forgive myself.’
Straightening up, Jazz pulled the regal card. ‘My people will make sure I’m safe. And now, if you will excuse me?’
He almost bowed mockingly, but he was all out of humour and confined himself to watching from the door as Jazz shepherded the children home through swirls of sand until finally she was lost to sight.
* * *
By the time he’d delivered the last older person safely home, the storm had the village in its vicious grip. The roar of sand driven at speed by gale-force winds was deafening and his only concern now was for Jazz. Fighting against the power of the wind with one arm over his face and his bandana tied over his nose and mouth, he finally reached the large guest pavilion nestling against the cliff. His feelings lurched from concern to relief when he spotted the hurricane ropes connected to the cliff face, which Jazz had already secured across the entrance.
‘Jazz?’ Shaking the brass bell, he yelled her name again. He wanted to check the struts holding the pavilion before the wind really got up.