Read The Inherited Bride for Free Online Page A

execution date had been pushed back. It was a reprieve, but the execution still loomed. And she would be living her remaining days with her jailer as her constant companion. But she wouldn’t let herself think of what would happen after her time in Paris. This was about her. She deserved it. Deserved to have some time devoted to things that interested her. Some time devoted to discovering what things interested her.
    “Thank you,” she choked out, the lump in her throat keeping her from speaking more. She closed the distance between them, wrapped her arms around his neck.
    Adham stood rigid, his arms pinned tightly to his sides. He was unwilling to do so much as breathe, for fear his control would slip even more and he would give in to the ache of arousal that was pounding heavily through his body.
    He could not remember the last time a woman, or anyone for that matter, had hugged him. Clung to him, kissed him, rubbed her body against him in invitation—sure. But just a hug—a show of warmth, of affection, an innocent gesture … He didn’t know if he had everexperienced that. He had been so long without his family, so long without frequent, human contact, that he could not remember any more what it had been like. Since the death of his parents it had only been Hassan and himself, and neither of them were given to overt displays of affection.
    “I do not want your gratitude,” he said, pulling away from her hold, ignoring the tightness in his body. Ignoring what it meant. “This was not my doing.”
    Her eyes widened, and hurt evident in their blue depths—as though she was a child responding to being scolded. Such a contradiction. She was a woman, not a child, but she seemed to switch roles with ease. A woman when it suited her to be enticing. A sweet innocent when she wanted sympathy. It was a façade, an act, and though it was effective it would not work on him.
    She bit her lip and looked down, the crease between her dark, perfectly shaped brows deepening, as if to show contrition. “I’m sorry. But this is the only chance I’ll have to … to figure out who I am. I don’t know if someone like you could understand.”
    “Someone like me?” he asked, mildly amused that she’d clearly taken him to be nothing more than a bodyguard.
    “Someone who’s had freedom his whole life. Someone who’s had the ability to make his own decisions. I haven’t had that chance. It’s … it’s more than that. I don’t know if I can fully explain it. I just know that I need to be able to have some experiences of my own.”
    He crossed his arms over his chest, unmoved by her speech. “And what is at the top of this list of yours?”
    She raised her eyes again, a glimmer of excitement there now. “I want to do things I haven’t done before. Go to the movies. A club, maybe?”
    “Not a club,” he said flatly.
    If she went to a club every heterosexual male in the area would be all over her. Given her sheltered upbringing, she likely had no clue what kind of effect a body like hers had on men. She’d played at flirting with him, but playing was all it had been. In that sort of environment she would be like a lamb that had wandered into a wolf pack.
    “Okay, not a club,” she said, not looking at all dented by his refusal. “But definitely the Eiffel Tower, the Champs-Élysées, a restaurant. And
definitely
shopping.”
    “Get dressed. I’ll take you to breakfast.”
    Isabella took a long sip of her espresso and followed it up with a bite of pastry. She closed her eyes and moaned.
    The burn that hit him hot and hard in his stomach, along with the slow flood of blood that went south of his belt, made him tense.
    He hadn’t noticed before what a sensual person Isabella was. Watching her eat a pastry and drink coffee, listening to the sounds she made—small kitten moans in the back of her throat—watching the way she closed her eyes as if she was in ecstasy, seeing her lick each remaining crumb from her full lips,