‘Well, they’re understandable,’ Britt agreed, and then she smiled. ‘I saw the connection between you two at the party, so I’m not really surprised. But I have to admit I didn’t see this coming. Not so fast, anyway.’
No wonder! ‘Neither did I,’ Jazz admitted truthfully, feeling ten times worse at having to hold things back from Britt.
‘I hate to think of you having an accident, but if that tumble from your horse got you two together, it certainly saved a lot of time.’ Britt laughed, and then grew serious again. ‘If anyone can get my brother to stay in one place, it’s you, Jazz. So thank you. I really mean that. And, if it helps, I think you two were made for each other.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes,’ Britt insisted. ‘Fate clearly brought you two together.’
How temptingly close that fantasy version of events seemed now.
‘Where is Tyr? Have you seen him?’ The anxious words spilled out of Jazz’s mouth before she could stop them.
Britt reassured her with a smile. ‘Don’t look so worried. Tyr’s riding with Sharif. The way you look, anyone would think you expect him to leave you standing at the altar.’
I couldn’t blame him, Jazz thought as she forced a laugh. ‘Was he in a good mood?’ She asked the question casually.
‘What do you think?’ Britt arched a brow.
Good question.
If Tyr and Sharif were riding together, they must be concocting some sort of plan to get Tyr out of this, Jazz concluded.
‘Jazz?’
Hearing the note of concern in Britt’s voice, she refocused. ‘Wedding nerves. I must stop fretting.’
‘Indeed you must,’ Britt agreed, throwing a thoughtful look her way.
Could it possibly have been a more beautiful evening? Jazz wondered as she stood outside the pavilion with Britt, waiting for everyone to return. The great bowl of the sky provided a violet backdrop for the moon, which was hanging like an ivory swing suspended on moonbeams surrounded by stars. Lifting her face, she closed her eyes and told herself she was going to marry Tyr Skavanga. Now, if that wasn’t the stuff of dreams—
Except this had the potential to turn into a nightmare.
An hour or so later, and the wedding party with Jazz at the head of it was ready to leave the pavilion. The front entrance had been opened up, and a vast, jostling crowd had gathered outside to throw petals that had been brought all the way from Skavanga in Jazz’s path. Nothing about this celebration smacked of a rushed wedding. Quite the contrary. Thanks to the hard work of Britt, Eva and Leila, together with all the women of the village, she was going to have the fairy-tale wedding she’d always dreamed of, and one Jazz guessed would be remembered for generations to come in Wadi village.
Lifting the hem of her floating chiffon skirt, she could hardly believe she was on her way to marry Tyr. Her heart was singing even if her hands were trembling. She led the way out of the pavilion, followed by Britt, Eva and Leila, who were acting as her bridesmaids. She whispered her thanks as Britt pressed a bouquet of Arctic roses into her hands. She wanted to tell all three of Tyr’s sisters that she couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t loved their brother, but she couldn’t say something that would paint a false picture of this wedding. She had never been more grateful for a veil to hide her mixed and tumultuous feelings. Secured with a glittering diamond tiara studded with the now famous blue-white diamonds mined exclusively at the Skavanga diamond mine, her veil was a fall of Chantilly lace, sprinkled with diamonds and seed pearls that flashed in the light of a thousand torches as she walked along the sandy path to the man she had loved all her life.
‘I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,’ Leila said as she walked behind Jazz.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll deduct the cost from Tyr’s next dividend,’ Eva joked. ‘Why are you shivering, Jazz?’ Eva added, catching up with Jazz. ‘You’re not sickening for something, are you?’
Lovesick? Heartsick? Any one of those would do. ‘I’m just not used to such a fuss,’ she fudged.
‘Then you should be,’ Eva insisted. ‘You’re a princess, after all.’
‘Every bride’s a princess on her wedding day,’ Leila agreed.
Jazz shivered again as she touched the cold white stones in her tiara with her fingertips. ‘But here’s one bride who doesn’t deserve all this attention.’
‘Of course you do,’ Eva insisted. ‘Every bride deserves a fuss on her wedding day. And you can always give the tiara back when you’re finished with it,’ Eva joked. ‘In fact, you can give it to me.’