The Inherited Bride by Maisey Yates

store that she was carrying with her and headed to the lingerie floor. That was another part of her wardrobe that needed dragging into the contemporary era. She had lovely underwear, it was true. The highest quality. But the styles gave no concession to a woman’s sexuality—which had always been fine with her, since she hadn’t given much thought to hers. But this was about self-discovery, and she was not changing dictators without discovering what her personal preference in undergarments was. If she wanted ultra-sexy panties she was going to get them.
    And Adham was coming with her. Like it or not. He was doing a decent job of making her uncomfortable. She might as well return the favor.
    Of course her boldness nearly deserted her when they reached the lingerie floor. She looked at Adham out of the corner of her eye and noticed him clenching his fist again. He did that a lot. She was convinced it meant that he was uncomfortable. Good. He deserved some discomfort. His presence was one big giant discomfort in her behind, so a little turnabout seemed like fair play to her.
    “I’d like to look around here for a while,” she said, trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible.
    Adham’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenched tight along with his fist. “If you wish.”
    “You could wait in one of the cafés.” But she knew he wouldn’t.
    “I don’t think that would be wise.”
    She took a deep breath and tried to look casual—tried to look as if having a man with her while she looked at intimate items of clothing was both normal and no big deal at all. “All right.”
    She moved to one of the display tables and began to pick out the smallest, filmiest panties she could find, and thongs—something her mother never would have allowed her even to look at. She would think they were the sort of undergarments only suited to women of questionable moral character. A surge of power coursed through Isabella as she selected one thong in each pattern and color available, every one briefer, more revealing than the last.
    It didn’t matter if her mother would have disapproved of them. It was her decision to make. The very fact that there were people in her life who controlled what she wore beneath her clothing was sad beyond belief. But that would change. Even when she went to Umarah she would not allow that to be dictated to her. Not anymore.
    Of course she would want to wear them only in her own chambers. She couldn’t possibly imagine wearing them for her future husband. She didn’t even know the man.
    That thought made her want to throw all the revealing items down and run out of the store. But she wouldn’t do that. This was about her. About what she wanted. Not what anyone else wanted or didn’t want.
    She finally sneaked a glance at Adham, who had fallen quite a bit behind her. She noticed his dark eyes wereburning with intensity, his hands locked so tightly that the scars were bright white against a backdrop of golden skin.
    She was getting to him. Pleasure uncurled in her belly, winding through her. Pride that she might hold enough appeal for him that she was capable of making him uneasy.
    With a sudden surge of confidence she sauntered to the negligees. The selection was phenomenal—silks, sheers, pale pinks and electric blues. And every style was sexier than anything she’d ever seen, let alone been permitted to own. She didn’t see why she should be confined to floor-length nightgowns. She was twenty-one, for heaven’s sake, and she still had nightwear in the same style she’d worn at the all-girls boarding school she’d attended seven years ago.
    She picked up a gauzy peach babydoll-style nightie that would barely cover the tops of her thighs. The Grecian pleating over the cups wouldn’t be sufficient to cover her breasts—not when the fabric was nearly see-through. The glass beads sewn beneath the bustline looked sinful, somehow. Decadent. She loved it.
    A wicked impulse seized her and she turned to