She was invisible. She should have been used to this public treatment of a royal princess of Kareshi, but her country’s traditions had never seemed quite so draconian before. Because she had dreamed of laughter and intimate glances on her wedding day, secret smiles and potent stares connecting. She’d been to weddings where the fingertips of the bride and groom had touched briefly. Accidentally on purpose, Jazz had always thought, and the air around the newly married couple had sizzled with expectation and suppressed passion. That was what she had dreamed of for her wedding day.
Was it a dream too far? she wondered, risking a glance at Tyr. For all the attention this groom was paying his bride, she might as well have married the Emir of Qadar.
No!
This was nothing like marrying the Emir of Qadar. If she’d married the emir, she would only ever have been able to look at Kareshi over her shoulder. This was infinitely preferable to that. And Tyr was a prince in every respect. Tyr inspired people. Tyr got things done. Tyr was the love of her life. If only this could have been the fairy-tale wedding of her dreams, they might have accomplished so much together.
This was not a fairy-tale wedding and she would not deceive herself into believing it was. She hated deceiving everyone else, for as lovely as they’d made this evening for her, she couldn’t wait for it to end so she could be alone with Tyr, and they could sort this out.
Alone with Tyr?
Jazz’s mouth dried at the prospect as she glanced at the mountain of muscle beside her. Did she really want to be alone with Tyr? Alone in bed with him?
Alone in bed with both of them naked?
‘Did you say something?’
She looked up as Tyr spoke. Her cheeks flamed with heat when she realised that she must have exclaimed out loud with apprehension.
‘No. Nothing.’
She pinned a small smile to her face to reassure him. How could she admit that she was terrified at the thought of being alone with him when they’d known each other all their lives?
Anxiously, she began to twist the simple platinum wedding band Tyr had placed on her finger. How disappointing he would find her. Tyr was so vital and masculine, while she knew nothing about physical love between a man and a woman. She had hoped the first time would be special, and not painful, as she’d been told it could be, but beyond that—
‘Do you like it?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘The ring?’ Tyr prompted. ‘Do you like it?’
Her eyes must have been wide with dread, Jazz realised. ‘I love it.’ This was the truth. She loved the simplicity of the Scandinavian design. If she had chosen it herself she couldn’t have picked a ring she liked better. But it was sad to think that the ring wasn’t a love token, but only the ink to seal the deal. ‘How did you find such a lovely ring at such short notice?’
‘Britt bought it for me.’
Of course. Tyr would have contacted Britt, who had chosen something she thought Jazz would like. The thought of Britt doing that for her made Jazz feel emotional. She didn’t deserve such good people in her life, and she longed to tell Britt the truth.
Tyr stopped her with his hand on her arm as she started to get up to go and find his sister. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To speak to Britt. I have to explain that this wedding is a sham.’
‘You’ll do nothing of the sort.’ Tyr’s voice was low, but insistent. ‘Not unless you want to upset everyone who’s come here to wish us well.’
‘That’s the last thing I want, but—’
‘Not now, Jazz,’ Tyr murmured as the speeches began.
Tyr didn’t ask her to translate for him. He’d heard enough, Jazz guessed. There was no eye contact between them, no contact between them at all. Would things improve when they were alone?
‘Are you cold?’ he asked as she shivered with apprehension.
Before she could answer, Tyr had draped a cashmere blanket round her shoulders, making her remember times when he would have laughed and dragged her into a wholly innocent bear hug to warm her up.
‘Cold and tired?’ he diagnosed when she heaved a sigh.
‘No.’ She would be awake all night, pacing the pavilion.
When they finally got up to leave, Jazz felt like a prisoner walking to her doom, rather than a bride eagerly walking at the side of her husband to her marriage bed. The wedding procession took its time to wind its way with some ceremony around the village before it turned in the direction of the bridal accommodation that had been set aside for them on the banks of the oasis.