The Inherited Bride Read online

  He heard the pounding of rotor blades as a helicopter flew overhead, away from the palace toward the city.

  Bella.

  What if she had gone? He had told her to go. He had not meant for her to leave, but he had said it. And he had hurt her. But if she left … if she left him.

  He let out a fierce growl of desperation and turned back to the palace, running as though the very devil was at his heels, her name pounding in his mind in time with his footfalls.

  He could not lose her. He needed her.

  His heart thundered in his chest as he ran, each beat putting a crack in the protective stone until it fell away completely, leaving him raw and exposed, vulnerable. And he could feel. He could feel everything. There was no protection, no numbness, no buffer against himself and his emotions.

  The pain was intense, the feeling of loss so overwhelming it stole his already shortened breath. And with that there was something else—an emotion that made him feel as though his heart might burst straight from his chest because he didn’t think it could be contained inside him. It was too big, too much.

  When he reached the wall of the palace he pressed in the key code and went in through the back door, hurrying quickly inside and moving around through the garden so that he could access one of the entrances near the bedchambers.

  He slipped inside into Isabella’s room. It was empty. The bed pristine, untouched. He saw a small dark shape on the center of the bed and he bent down to look at it. It was the ring box. And in it was the ring, along with the wedding band.

  Despair gripped him. He had driven her away. He had finally done it. All of the times he had tried to rid himself of her, if not physically then emotionally, and now that he knew he needed her he had finally succeeded.

  He needed her. His lovely Bella. His wife. She had shown him so many things, had taught him to see the world with new eyes. With her, things were beautiful again, fresh. He saw hope, goodness, where before he had seen nothing but the evil of the world.

  She had said he had helped her become the person she was, that he had helped her grow up. But she had fixed him. Had helped him find redemption. Had pulled him from the mire he had been stuck in, from that dark hopelessness he had grown so accustomed to. He had not even realized how much he needed to be saved.

  And still, in the end, he had lost her.

  He picked up the box and walked outside, into the gardens. The sun was rising now; golden light shining over the palace walls, mist rising off the small pond that helped provide a cool respite from the midday heat.

  He walked along the edge of it, aimless, directionless for the first time in his memory. The pain in his chest was blinding, agonizing. But he felt it.

  Then he saw her. Sitting there in the midst of the garden on one of the benches, her hands folded in her lap, her cheeks wet with tears, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed.

  The rose-gold light was shining on her, creating a halo around her dark hair, casting an angelic glow on her beautiful face. His wife. His love.

  He loved her.

  The realization staggered him. Was enough to bring him to his knees.

  He walked toward her, and then he did go down on his knees, placing the ring box on the stone bench, taking her small, soft hands in his rough, scarred ones.

  “Bella,” he said, feeling his throat tighten, “I thought you’d left me.”

  She bit her lip to hold back a sob and shook her head. “No. I told you I wouldn’t.”

  “But I said. I should not have said I didn’t want you, Bella. It was a lie.” He brought her hands up to his lips, pressed them against his mouth before speaking again. “And you were right. I was afraid. I was afraid of what loving you would do to me. I was afraid of what touching you would do to me. I thought it was a weakness in me that made me unable to control myself with you. But you are right. Love is not weak. Love is strong. My mother was brave. She did what she felt she had to do. I didn’t see it before. I didn’t understand. I do now. What she felt was beyond rational thought, beyond duty. Love is above any of those things. You helped me see that. Your strength humbles me, Bella. You’re stronger than I am.”

  She let out a watery laugh. “No, I’m not. I’m a mess.”

  “Your strength inspires me,” he said, raising his hand so that he could cup her cheek. “I feel as though I’m alive again for the first time since my parents died. I hadn’t realized how much of myself I let die with them. Now it’s like … like seeing in color when I had no clue I’d only been seeing in black and white. I love you, Sheikha Isabella Rossi al bin Sudar.”

  She laughed, and a tear spilled down her cheek. “That’s a mouthful.”

  “Yes, it is, but I love saying it.”

  “I love you, Adham. I love you so much. I’m so glad I didn’t check the peephole when you knocked on my hotel room door.”

  A hoarse chuckle escaped his lips. “I am too.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips, and when he pulled away she reached forward and brushed her fingers over his cheek, wiping away moisture he hadn’t realized was there.

  “I love you,” he whispered again. Now that he could say it, now that he knew it was true, he would never stop telling her. “I want you to know that if there was no marriage contract you would still be the woman I chose. I am not whole without you. You are my other half. I realize now that I could never have let you marry another man.”

  Her eyes widened. “Not even if it violated your duty?”

  “Not even if it did. There is nothing greater than my love for you.”

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

  First published in Great Britain 2011

  Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,

  Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

  © Maisey Yates 2011

  ISBN: 978-1-408-92537-9

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Copyright

 

 

 
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