His Forbidden Diamond

by Susan Stephens

  ‘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.

  The wedding pavilion was very grand and had been erected a tactful distance away from the village. When they walked inside, Jazz gasped to see such luxury. Everything had been provided for the comfort of the bride and groom. There was an abundance of fresh food laid out on platters along with jugs of juice and fresh water. There was also the most enormous bed, which she had to try very hard not to look at.

  Next there was a ceremony that allowed Tyr and Jazz to thank everyone for such a wonderful day. She could tell Sharif was slightly embarrassed when it came to his turn, while Britt’s hug lasted longest of all. ‘You’ll be all right,’ Britt whispered. ‘I know Tyr will take good care of you.’

  That was what she was afraid of, Jazz realised as she forced her lips into a smile. ‘Of course I’ll be all right,’ she agreed brightly, with absolutely no evidence to back that up. When everyone had left, the two of them remained standing, staring at each other from opposite sides of the pavilion. There would be entertainment for their guests, Jazz registered numbly as the sound of traditional music floated towards them on the balmy air.

  This was no way to get her new life started.

  She gathered her courage. ‘Would you like to bathe first, or shall I?’

  ‘Why don’t you go first?’ Tyr suggested. ‘Would you like me to help you with your gown?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  They both sounded so stiff. They were as remote as two strangers who had been thrown together for the night.

  ‘No, please—I insist,’ she said, putting off the moment when she would emerge from behind the curtain a virgin bride. ‘I’m happy to wait while you bathe first.’

  All night if necessary.

  It was a relief when Tyr disappeared into the curtained section of the tent. This was as far from her fantasy wedding night as it was possible to get, Jazz reflected as she paced nervously up and down, waiting for him to return.

  When he did come back, Tyr was covered by only a small towel, which he had secured around his waist. She had to remind herself that where Tyr came from same-sex saunas, followed by rolling naked in the snow, was considered a harmless family activity, rather than some intriguing erotic ritual, so walking about half naked in front of her was nothing new for Tyr Skavanga.

  She flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as Tyr held the curtain leading into the bathing tent for her. This was going to be the longest bathing session in the history of the mountain stream. And now, because she’d been so stubborn in refusing his help, it was going to take her an age to undress. Finally, after much tugging and pulling, she stood naked in the balmy warmth, and, taking the plunge into the stream, she was glad of the shock of the icy water hitting her overheated skin.

  ‘Are you all right in there?’ Tyr called out as she exclaimed with shock.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she yelled back, sinking low in the water in case he should decide to come and investigate.

  Climbing out only when she was in danger of turning into a prune, she grabbed an all-concealing bath sheet and wrapped herself in it like a mummy.

  Viewing the various pots of creams and lotions that the women had left for her, Jazz huffed a humourless laugh. The fabled potions of Wadi village were lost on her. These were said not just to smooth the skin but to heighten sensation everywhere they touched. She’d need an industrial bucketful, and a man who showed some interest in applying it.

  She took her time to select a nightgown. This wasn’t as easy as it sounded, as all the garments the women had left for her seemed to be composed of gossamer-fine silk, and she could see through them quite easily. How was she supposed to face Tyr dressed like that?

  This is your one and only chance at marriage. Just for once, can’t you allow yourself to want something for you?

  Like what? Jazz argued with her inner critic.

  Like Tyr making love to you, before your life becomes one of practical solitude.

  Allow Tyr to make love to her? He’d have to teach her about sex first.

  Why don’t you ask him to do just that?

  Ask Tyr to teach her about sex? Her cheeks were on fire with embarrassment at that thought. Reaching for a robe, she wrapped it around the flimsy nightgown she had chosen to wear. If Tyr would settle for friendship, then so would she.

  No, she wouldn’t.

  Yes, she would. She might have to.

  There was only one way to find out.

  She paused and took a deep breath. Her hand was trembling as she gripped the dividing curtain. She had to do this. She could do this. She would find a way to reach Tyr and restore communication between them, to clear the air. And then they could talk into the night until they were both so tired they fell asleep.

  Coward.

  Tyr had made himself comfortable on a bed of cushions as far away from the main bed as possible, Jazz noticed when she returned to the main part of the pavilion. He was resting back with his eyes closed.

  Good. Maybe he was asleep.

  * * *

  He closed his eyes as Jazz walked deeper into the pavilion, but he’d seen enough to know she took his breath away. Standing with her back to him, she had begun to brush her hair. The light was behind her, and even though she had thrown a robe over her diaphanous nightgown, he could see her naked form quite clearly. She was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. As she continued to brush her long, damp hair in smooth, hypnotic strokes, he realised that Jazz had no idea she possessed a magic strong enough to arouse a man who had believed for years he was dead to all but the most primitive feelings. He was painfully aroused now, and emotionally aroused, and all
thanks to Jazz Kareshi.

  Jazz Skavanga, Tyr amended, smiling to himself as he considered this most surprising of all the recent developments.

  Jazz had applied some attractive scent, and the robe she had donned was of some flimsy material in softest coral that picked out the blush in her cheeks. And she was plaiting her hair—

  Don’t do that. Don’t plait your hair. Don’t tie it back.

  He smiled as he imagined Jazz’s reaction to his newfound feelings, but meanwhile frustration was threatening to throttle him. What he needed was another dousing in the freezing-cold stream.

  He turned away, feigning sleep as Jazz stood up and turned around to face him. If she had any sense she would go straight to the big marital bed, and then tuck herself in and go straight to sleep. At the very least, she should stay well away from him. He was curious as to what she would do. He’d hunted her down at the party and had wanted her ever since. When she’d fallen from the horse, his heart had stopped beating, and when he’d checked her over for injury, his life had stopped too. He wanted Jazz more than ever now, but though the world might assume he had carte blanche to seduce the woman who was now his wife, Jazz meant more to him that that, and he would never mislead her by promising more than he could deliver.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when she turned for the big bed. But would that help him? Having Jazz a few feet away when he had spent most of the wedding ceremony trying to avoid contact with her because the ache of wanting her was so acute? Did he seriously think he was going to make it through the night?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  IF ACTIONS SPOKE louder than words, then Jazz had no option but to do this. With the prospect of a loveless wedding night ahead of her, what did she have to lose? She stared at Tyr’s big, muscular back clad in a black tee. He was wearing black boxers too. She’d sneaked a look.

  What a modest bridegroom. What a shameless bride.

  When fantasy clashed with reality, all she could think about was Tyr looming over her, magnificent and immense. But if he moved a muscle, she’d probably run a mile.

  So was their friendship dead too? Jazz wondered as Tyr remained motionless with his back turned to her. As he continued to ignore her, she wondered if Tyr ever ached for a touch, or a kind word and a warm look, as she did right now. She understood why he’d become hard and self-reliant, but she wanted him to know that she cared, and that this was their wedding night—which terrified her, and challenged her to be more courageous too. Or else, was she doomed to an empty life with a head full of Tyr Skavanga? She gazed at the big, silent Viking, currently stretched out on his bed of cushions just a few yards away. Maybe she should have married the Emir of Qadar.

  How lucky was she to have so many choices?

  ‘Jazz?’ Tyr murmured her name without opening his eyes. ‘Jazz, what are you doing? What the hell!’

  ‘What does it look as if I’m doing?’ Having climbed beneath his covers, she pulled them up to her chin. ‘I was cold, so I’m joining my husband for our wedding night. The least we can do is share our body heat.’

  ‘No, we can’t,’ Tyr assured her, putting space between them.

  He had tried not to look at Jazz in her diaphanous robe, with her hair streaming round her shoulders, and had failed miserably. The urge to make love to her was overwhelming him. She was lying in his bed, for goodness’ sake!

  ‘You’ll be more comfortable in the big bed.’ He spoke gruffly, closing his mind to a sight that had cracked his heart wide open and left him with the worst case of frustration known to man.

  ‘I might be as comfortable in the big bed, but I wouldn’t be as warm,’ Jazz argued in a voice he’d never heard her use before.

  ‘Jazz, please be sensible.’

  ‘I don’t want to be sensible,’ she assured him in the same husky tone. ‘What are you worried about, Tyr? Do you think I’m going to make a move on you—take advantage of you?’ Angling her chin on the pillow, Jazz slanted him a look. He had never seen that look on Jazz’s face before. ‘Are you concerned I’m going to wear you down, and make you do something you want to do?’

  ‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’ Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore her.

  ‘Ridiculous?’ Jazz hummed. ‘What am I supposed to think? Am I repulsive? Can’t you stand the sight of me?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Jazz!’ He sat up in his makeshift bed. ‘Just leave it, will you? Isn’t this situation bad enough?’

  ‘You tell me,’ she said softly, showing no sign of going anywhere.

  Touching Jazz, let alone making love to her, could only lead to the bond between them tightening, when it was better for both of them if they kept that bond on a really long leash.

  ‘We’re married, Tyr. Have you forgotten that?’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten anything. Now, will you please go back to your own bed and go to sleep?’

  Once again, she didn’t move. ‘Maybe I’m so irresistible you can’t trust yourself to leave me alone once we get started?’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Jazz.’

  Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he turned his back on her and sank his head into his hands. ‘We’re not kids any longer. And this isn’t a game.’

  ‘You’ve noticed?’ she fired back. ‘It certainly isn’t a game to me, Tyr. I’m a bride and this is my wedding night, but the groom apparently wants to go to sleep.’

  Sleep was the last thing on his mind, but Jazz didn’t need to know that. ‘What do you want from me, Jazz?’

  ‘What any bride wants from her husband on their wedding night: closeness, loyalty, trust, intimacy.’

  Not passion, he noted. Even Jazz the eternal optimist couldn’t push the boat out that far.

  ‘And friendship.’

  He looked up when he heard the break in her voice, and saw her tears, but Jazz had more grit than to fold because he was being cold towards her.

  ‘I want you to make love to me, Tyr,’ she said fiercely. Swiping the back of her hand across her eyes, she lifted her chin. ‘I want you to teach me everything you know about sex. I want you to show me what to do and how to please you.’

  He was so taken aback, he couldn’t speak for a moment.

  ‘Tyr, I—’

  ‘I heard what you said, Jazz.’

  ‘So?’

  As Jazz waited for him to reply, he could sense her thinking: What do I have to do to get through to this man? She had risked everything, her pride, her self-respect. God, what a monster he’d become.

  Why should Tyr respond when he was only here acting out the role of groom to get her out of a hole? She had no idea how to handle a rejection as comprehensive as this. She would never take anyone for granted again, Jazz vowed fervently. She had thought she could handle anything Tyr threw at her, but then she had thought she was strong too. Turned out she was wrong on all counts. When you loved someone as she loved Tyr, this was always going to hurt.

  ‘I’m sorry, Tyr. I should never have put you in this position. Of course we should sleep. Sex has to be by mutual consent and not to order. I know that much.’

  Lifting his head out of his hands, Tyr straightened up and turned to face her. ‘You don’t want this, believe me.’

  ‘I’m not frightened of you, Tyr, if that’s what you think. And how can you doubt that I want this?’

  ‘Brave words, Jazz.’

  ‘They’re not just words.’ She stared into his eyes. ‘We can’t go on like this. What’s wrong with you, Tyr? It’s not like you to back away from opportunity.’

  ‘I’m not backing away. And this isn’t an opportunity, as you put it, Jazz. I’m trying to protect you. Can’t you see that?’

  ‘You’re trying to protect me by making me feel like the most undesirable woman on earth? How does that work, Tyr?’

  ‘I�
�m trying to protect you from me.’

  ‘Why? Are you such a beast in bed?’

  ‘Jazz—’

  ‘You probably are a beast in bed.’ Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘How would I know?’

  ‘Jazz,’ Tyr exclaimed with exasperation. ‘Take the big bed and try to get some sleep.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re saving me from, Tyr. And you’d better come up with something good, because right now I’m feeling pretty—’

  Tyr’s fierce growl of impatience made her reel back as he closed the gap between them. His face was so close. ‘OK, I shouldn’t goad you.’

  ‘And I shouldn’t overreact, elskling,’ Tyr murmured, his minty breath brushing her skin as he held her suspended in his arms. ‘And as for goading me?’ Eyes that speared deep into hers lit with a glint of humour. ‘Why change the habit of a lifetime?’

  That hint of warmth gave her hope. ‘I’m not about to,’ she flashed with all the old spirit as Tyr steadied her on her feet.

  ‘You know I’d never hurt you, Jazz?’

  ‘I absolutely know that,’ she confirmed. ‘But as I don’t have anywhere else to be tonight...’

  Looking away as he raked his hair, Tyr huffed a laugh.

  ‘And, by the way, Tyr, I asked you a question and I’m still waiting for your answer.’

  Folding his arms behind his head, Tyr rested back on the pillows, allowing his corded muscles to relax. ‘Repeat the question.’

  ‘I want you to make love to me, Tyr. This is our wedding night and I’m a virgin with everything to learn, so I’m asking you, my husband, to teach me everything you know about sex.’

  ‘In one night?’ Tyr raised an amused brow.

  ‘We can make a start,’ she suggested.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CLOSING HER EYES, Jazz reached out. At first her touch was tentative. Tyr was so firm and warm and vital, but this was the first time she had ever touched a man’s naked skin, and it took a little time to gain enough confidence to explore him more thoroughly.