The Inherited Bride by Maisey Yates Page A

from the support beams, well away from the canvas that made up the tent.
    There were big blocks of canvas hanging from the sides, dividing rooms, creating privacy. The living area was large and open, with divans and plush couches placed around in a wide half-circle, perfect for a big gathering. She could imagine it filled with people, laughter.
    “I really love it.”
    “I’m glad,” he said, setting her bag on the floor. “It’s a special place for the al bin Sudar family.”
    “I wonder if Hassan will want to take vacations here,” she said idly, running her hands along the rich velvet of a red divan. Even her own father had taken them on vacations. They had homes on the outlying islands near Turan, and in Italy. Those times, away from palace life and some of the protocol, were her very favorite memories.
    She and Hassan would have children, if all went according to plan. It would stand to reason that he might want to come here with them someday. The thought caused a stab of pain to pierce her chest.
    It didn’t seem right, thinking of having Hassan’s children. She didn’t even know the man … and the only man she could imagine having children with was Adham. Why? When had that happened? Why was her heart so tied to this hard man who showed less emotion than granite at times?
    Hassan was a handsome man. She remembered that from his picture. Being married to him wouldn’tbe a terrible thing. She had never been repulsed by the thought, though it hadn’t exactly made her jump for joy either. But now … now it seemed so wrong. Adham was the man she desired, the man she….
No.
She wouldn’t go there. She could not. There was no point in it.
    Adham watched Isabella run her fingers lightly over the furniture. His body tightened as he imagined those delicate hands on his body, even as his stomach churned with rage at the thought of her vacationing with Hassan, the thought of her bearing Hassan’s children.
    It was a betrayal—of his brother, his country—to despise the thoughts and yet he did. He could not abide the thought of another man touching her—even if that man were his brother, a man who, according to the contract signed by Isabella’s father and by Hassan, had every right to her.
    He had brought her here at Hassan’s suggestion, and also to prove to himself that he could master his desire for her. And he could. There was no other option. It didn’t matter that she appealed to him more than any woman in his memory. She was to be a member of his family, a part of his existence, a woman he was sworn to protect for the rest of his life. He had to master his body’s response to her, not simply sublimate it.
    It was simply his denied libido reminding him that it had been six long months since he’d had a woman in his bed. A swim in the cold water later would take care of it. Isabella was much happier here than she’d been at the palace. He’d seen the life leech from her when they’d entered the palace at Maljadeed, but here.it seemed returned to her. It made the trip more than worth it. Even if there was a small amount of torture he would have to endure.
    He could understand how she’d felt in the confines ofthe walled palace. It was a difficult place for him as well. It was where his family had been killed. It represented the darkest moments of his life. It was one reason he had always been grateful he’d come into the world two years after Hassan. He had no desire to rule, to care for matters of State. To be trapped in the palace where he had lost his family.
    He always felt most free in the desert—less shackled to the bonds his position demanded of him, less tied to the things of the past. In the desert his mind had to be in the present. Watching the weather for torrential downpours and sandstorms, keeping an eye out for dangerous wildlife.
    He would welcome the respite from Maljadeed.
    Adham cleared his throat. “Hassan is not a big fan of being out in the desert. He prefers the luxury