The Inherited Bride by Maisey Yates Read Free Book Online Page A

than pleased to be playing tourist.
    Another feeling roiled in her stomach, and this one she knew for sure. Anger. “Please. Just take my picture and stop acting like you’re here under sufferance.”
    She caught a small, barely detectable curving of his lips. “I
am
here under sufferance.” But he took the camera from her outstretched hand.
    She positioned herself in front of the lawn and smiled wide. Suddenly she wished she were taking
his
picture. His face would be compelling on film. His masculine bone structure, his scarred golden skin. Maybe if she had a photo she could look at his dark eyes long enough to read his secrets.
    He snapped the picture and she jumped, realizing she’d been somewhere else entirely. That wasn’t right. She needed to be living in the moment. She was at the Eiffel Tower, in Paris. No looking ahead, no looking back, and no looking into Adham’s eyes. He was just an unfortunate accessory to her trip, nothing more.
    “Did it turn out okay?” she asked.
    He looked at the small screen, his expression tight. “It’s fine.” He walked to her and thrust the camera back into her hand, his manner abrupt. Nothing new there. Was there any way to penetrate that wall he had up? Was there a woman, one he loved, that those dark eyes softened for?
    The thought made her feel nauseous. She didn’t want to think about the woman who got to see past his defenses. But if she were to try and imagine that woman she pictured her being older, sophisticated—not just in the sense of having an affluent upbringing, but savvy in the ways of the world. Knowledgeable of things Isabella was hardly aware of.
    She would certainly be the opposite of Isabella, since the only thing she seemed to arouse in Adham was extreme annoyance.
    “Ready?” he asked, his voice clipped.
    No, she wasn’t ready. But she doubted it really mattered. “Sure.”
    Her pique was forgotten as they walked through the city, past beautiful stone architecture and historic sites. She lingered in one of the narrow streets, taking photographs of a rustic wooden door painted a rich, saturated blue. She wanted to capture it forever, to remember the simple moment of unexpected beauty and color amidst the monochromatic grays.
    “It’s a door, Isabella.” Adham’s bored voice sent a shiver of irritation and tension through her.
    “Yes, it is, Adham. A blue one. Glad your gift of observation is so well-honed. It’s little wonder you’re such an indispensable member of the Umarahn guard.”
    He captured her arm, gently but firmly, and turnedher so that she was facing him. “I am not a member of the Umarahn guard. I
am
the Umarahn guard.”
    He was so close. Like he’d been in the alley. It was so easy to imagine him pulling her to him, capturing her lips again.
    She moved away. “They’re lucky to have you.”
    She walked ahead of him this time, keeping her eyes locked in front of her. She didn’t know why his comment had bothered her so much. Maybe because she’d seen beauty in that simple thing and it had meant something to her to try and capture that. Something that had felt important. And he hadn’t seen it at all. Not that it should matter.
    The alleyway spilled out onto a busier street, lined with shops and cafés, and further down the massive Printemps department store.
    She felt a renewed flaring of excitement. “Can we go shopping?”
    “Shopping? Does that rate as an important, life-altering experience for you?”
    Mild irritation gave way to seething anger. “I don’t know. Maybe it does. I haven’t really been before. At least not without the aid of my mother’s personal shopper, telling me what is and isn’t appropriate. But you wouldn’t understand that. You take for granted your God-given free will because no one’s stolen it from you.”
    “And you think these shallow experiences will teach you something of life? It shows how little you know, Isabella. You see only what’s been denied you, not what you’ve been