A Royal Marriage (21 page)

John swallowed. He owed the emperor for saving his kingdom. The man was powerful, and protective of his family. He might destroy John and take his kingdom from him for daring to request a treasure beyond what he deserved.

And yet, John knew he would not be able to live with himself if he did not ask. “Your Majesty? I would ask for your daughter Gisela’s hand in marriage.”

Chapter Seventeen

Christmastide, Castlehead, Lydia

“A
ship approaches, Your Highness. Her sail is spread with the Carolingian cross.” Renwick stood in the doorway of Gisela’s chamber to deliver his message.

“They’ve returned?” Gisela rose and hurried after him, hope rising inside her. King John had been gone with her father for many long months. She knew of the dangerous nature of their mission, and the many threats that lay between Lydia and Constantinople.

Boats approached from the anchored ship by the time Gisela reached the wharf. She searched the faces of the men aboard, quickly finding the two that rose higher than the others. King John’s face glowed with health. So did her father’s.

She dropped to a low bow as they stepped onto the dock.

“Gisela.” Charlemagne extended his arms.

Gisela flew to her father’s embrace, holding him tight and thanking God for his safe return. But even as she did so, she looked past him to King John.

He had been away so long. She knew the political situation was complicated. The men might have made any number of promises for the sake of peace with the Byzantines. Did he still care for her as he had once claimed? Did their feelings even matter, given the complexities of the relations between the empires?

“How was your journey?” she asked her father.

“Long,” he said with laughter in his eyes, “but fruitful. We have strengthened the allegiances between our empires, and forged agreements to ensure the safety of Lydia.”

“Praise the Lord.” Gisela fought to keep her eyes on her father as he spoke, but found it nearly impossible not to look at John. His eyes twinkled. Did he long to hold her as she longed to be held by him? She wet her lips and tried to think clearly. “Where do matters stand with the Illyrians?”

The emperor began to walk down the wharf toward the castle. He held her arm and pulled her alongside him, explaining as they went. “Garren and his son Warrick have been chastised. They have repented of their actions against Lydia. Their apologies were sincere.”

Gisela felt cold dread fill her. If the men survived, the agreements between them might stand. “Do they remain in power?”

“In light of their activities with Rab the Raider, Garren has stepped down as king and Warrick has taken his place. To secure peace in the region, we’ve negotiated a marriage alliance.”

Gisela pinched her eyes shut and gripped her father’s arm. She couldn’t bring her feet to carry her forward another step. “A marriage between...” Her voice failed her.

“Between Warrick,” Charlemagne began, “and the Princess of Lydia, King John’s sister, Elisabette.”

Gisela sagged with relief and let out a yelping sigh.

Her father laughed. “Are you encouraged by this news?”

“It is wonderful news, Father.”

“The purpose of your journey was to marry Warrick. And yet, he never intended to have you.” Charlemagne looked down into his daughter’s eyes. “I have negotiated a different marriage contract for you, but I must know whether the match pleases you before the final plans can be made. If you could choose your own husband, who would you wed?”

Gisela felt her mouth drop open. She looked behind her and found that King John had followed them down the wharf.

Charlemagne extended one hand toward King John, but kept his focus on Gisela’s face. “He must be a worthy man.”

Finding her voice, Gisela asked, “Would you consider King John a worthy man?”

“There is no man more worthy.”

Hardly had her father spoken than John fell to his knees before them both. He looked up at Gisela with tears sparkling in his eyes. “Would you have me?”

Gisela struggled to speak past her joy. “Yes.” She reached for his hand and pulled him to his feet, then looked to her father for his blessing.

Charlemagne threw back his head and laughed a great billowing laugh toward the sky. “Do as you desire. You have my blessing.”

Before the emperor finished his statement, John wrapped his arms around Gisela and found her lips with his. She kissed him eagerly, then pulled away just long enough to ask her father, “How soon may we be wed?”

Charlemagne gestured to the crates of goods that were being unloaded from the boats. “We’ve brought the finest silks for your dress, and spices for the feast.” He turned to Renwick, who still stood near. “Have your messengers deliver the invitation throughout the kingdom. King John is to wed Princess Gisela three days hence.”

Three days hence

Gisela stood by the window while three maids and their needles held on to the long train of her white gown, working feverishly at an elaborate embroidery along the edge of the train. The courtyard was filled with those who would not fit inside the chapel.

“We’ve finished this layer of embroidery, Your Highness,” the head seamstress announced. “Would you like us to do another?”

“I don’t believe there will be time.” Gisela looked at Bette.

The girl hopped up. “The veil.” She nodded to Hilda, then examined Gisela’s face. “You look as lovely as any bride ever has.”

A steward arrived at her door. “The Emperor Charlemagne,” he announced.

Gisela flew to meet her father, who took her arm and led her down the hall.

Outside the chapel, Emperor Charlemagne paused and lowered the veil over her face. The lutes and horns ceased their festal notes and sounded her arrival. Gisela trusted her father to guide her forward. As she made her way on her father’s arm through the crowded hall, Gisela focused on breathing as King John had taught her when he’d stitched up her eye. Still, she feared she might faint from happiness.

“Emperor Charlemagne, if it is your intent to see this woman married, please present her to the groom.”

Gisela watched John’s hands take her veil by the edges and lift it up past her face.

She beamed at the sight of the man she loved.

Deacon Bartholomew proceeded with the service. When he reached the Scripture, Gisela listened with respect, all the while gazing at King John, still hardly able to believe he stood before her. Finally the old deacon pronounced them married, and John pulled her back into his arms, kissing her soundly as a cheer went up from those assembled, the noise nearly shaking the stone walls.

Finally the people quieted their cheers while her father turned to face them. Charlemagne announced blessings and gifts from the Holy Roman Empire.

“Lydia now holds all the lands between this coast and the Mursia River,” he declared, and a shout rose up from those assembled. He extended his hand toward King John, presenting him with a marvelous jewel-encrusted scepter. “A token of my esteem for your kingdom.”

John accepted it with thanks, but his eyes hardly left Gisela’s face, and she rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him again, as the emperor announced, “Hail to King John of Lydia and his queen. Long may you reign.”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt of
Handpicked Husband
by Winnie Griggs!

Dear Reader,

Charlemagne was King of the Franks from 768 A.D., and was crowned the first Holy Roman Emperor in the year 800. Many of the historical events noted in this book are real; for example, Charlemagne’s daughter Rotrude was engaged to Constantine VI, until his mother, Irene (Empress Irene at the time of our story), broke off their engagement. The Illyrians, who were ruled by various tribal kings, dominated the area where our story takes place. However, the Kingdom of Lydia is a fictional nation inspired by Lydia in Acts 16 in the Bible. Warrick and Garren are fictional characters, as is King John himself. History records that Charlemagne had a daughter named Gisela, but no details survive of the events of her life. It is unlikely that her experiences were precisely as I have recorded them; nonetheless I’ve taken care to make my story as historically accurate as possible without obscuring the romance of the tale.

If you would like to learn more about Charlemagne, one resource I heartily recommend is
Two Lives of Charlemagne
by Einhard and Notker the Stammerer. If you are interested in more stories about the Kingdom of Lydia, look for my Reclaiming the Crown series by Love Inspired Suspense, and the forthcoming books in the Protecting the Crown series, which include more suspense tales set in Lydia, as well as the romance between John’s brother Prince Luke and the mysterious woman with hair pale as moonlight. Visit my website,
www.rachellemccalla.com
, for the most up-to-date listings of the books in my series.

God’s blessings on your journey,

Rachelle

Questions for Discussion

1. When Charlemagne’s ship is spotted off the Lydian shore, King John goes to meet it instead of taking refuge in the castle as his courtiers suggest. Similarly, Princess Gisela was supposed to be hiding below when she saved her ship from Saracens. What do these details tell you about their personalities? Do you agree with the choices they made? Why or why not?
   

2. Princess Gisela felt much more at ease talking to King John before she saw how handsome he was. In what ways do the appearances of others influence your reactions to them? Is it easier to get to know someone before you know what they look like (for example, talking on the phone or chatting online)? How are your in-person interactions different? Should physical appearance influence how we act toward others? Why or why not?
   

3. Hilda and others assume King John has a “gift” for healing, though he insists his skills lie in the knowledge he’s been taught. Gisela likens his abilities to her sister’s aptitude for music, noting that the “gift” is a combination of God-given talents combined with training. How would you define King John’s gift of healing? Do you feel God has given you gifts in certain areas? Have you sought additional study within your area of giftedness?
   

4. When John’s first wife died, the king feared that his “gift” for healing had evaporated, even though his knowledge of herbs and remedies remained. How would you explain his failure to heal her? How do you react when your God-given talents seem to putter out?
   

5. Emperor Charlemagne was a godly man who supported the work of the church and gave generously to charity. As noted in the book, Charlemagne attended worship services on a daily basis. Unlike many other rulers in his time period and before, Charlemagne did not ask his subjects to revere him as a god. How do you feel about the historical figure Charlemagne? How might history have played out differently had he not been ruler of Europe?
   

6. Gisela sends Boden to Rome with a message for her father, refusing to marry Warrick until Rab the Raider is disciplined for murdering King John’s father. Later she regrets this decision and confesses she was acting selfishly by extending her visit to Lydia. Later still, she realizes her choice saved her from a more horrible fate. Was her decision right, wrong or both? Is there any benefit to passing judgment on the rightness or wrongness of her actions? Do your choices in life sometimes fall within that blurry void between good and bad? Can we ever really know the full impact of our decisions? Is it wise to judge others or ourselves? Discuss.
   

7. King John refuses to fence against Gisela when he recognizes her in the tournament. How do you feel about his decision?
   

8. When Gisela learns that Elisabette is in love with Warrick, Gisela chooses not to reveal that she’s engaged to the same man. How do you feel about her decision, given the circumstances?
   

9. As King John comes to terms with the reality of his feelings for Gisela, he reasons that his every faculty has mutinied against his rational self—a treasonous act, given that he is king. Do you ever find yourself behaving in a manner that is in conflict with what you think you ought to be doing? How do you reconcile the two? Where does God fit into the picture?
   

10. King John resolved never to love another after the death of his wife. He explains his motivation at various points as he wrestles with the love he feels for Gisela. How do you feel about his decision? Have you ever felt similarly? Are you glad he ultimately decided to fall for Gisela?
    

11. Rab the Raider’s father refused to officially recognize him as his son, instead sending him on dangerous raids to prove his worth. At the same time, however, he benefited from Rab’s exploits. How do you feel about the decisions he made? How do they contrast with your beliefs about right and wrong? Where did the trouble begin—and how could these men have peacefully ended it?
    

12. Even as King John and his brother Luke are facing death while under siege at Sardis, they resolve to ride out together to face their enemies. Have you ever felt as though you were riding out, with little hope for success? Has God ever led you in a direction that felt like a futile mission, only to reward your efforts?
    

13. As Gisela and the watchmen study the approaching storm clouds, they see Charlemagne’s ships riding ahead of the storm, coming to their rescue. Has God ever sent storm clouds to save you? Do the dark clouds in your life have a silver lining, or do you fear the storm?
    

14. What do you think of King John’s leadership skills? What about his love for his people? Do you think he is a good king?
    

15. How do you feel about Princess Gisela? Is she, as John notes, a godly woman? Do you think she will make a good queen of Lydia? Will they live happily ever after? Why or why not?
    

Chapter One

Northeast Texas, 1894

A
n ear-splitting shriek ricocheted through
the forest, startling a raucous cloud of blackbirds from the roadside trees.

“Easy, Trib.” Adam Barr patted the horse’s neck as the animal
shied.
What now?

The buggy behind him slowed to a stop, but Adam ignored it,
along with the uneasy questions from the three men seated inside. He’d promised
to escort the men from Philadelphia to Texas, not be their nursemaid.

The wailing continued and Adam fought the urge to tilt back his
head and answer with a wild, full-throated howl. He’d gritted his teeth so often
these past few days the muscles in his jaw hurt. Taking on this job when more
important business waited for him in Philadelphia had him in a foul mood, as his
companions could no doubt attest.

After six years of biding his time—six years, two months and
thirteen days to be exact—he’d thought he could finally pursue his goal without
distraction.

If this assignment had come from anyone but Judge
Madison...

Adam scanned the brush-skirted hardwoods lining the trail.
Whatever the source of that eerie sound, it was headed their way.

He eased his rifle from the scabbard. Anticipation stirred his
blood. He might have to employ his “company manners” with his three charges, but
this bellowing beast was another matter.

No telling what manner of creature roamed this forsaken
backwoods. The wail was too high-pitched to belong to a bear. A large cat
maybe?

He urged Trib closer to the trees. There seemed to be a pattern
to the sound, a certain mangled cadence. Almost as if—

Well, what do you know?

He leaned back. Not a wild animal after all. Too bad.

“Do you think it’s a wolf?”

Adam glanced over his shoulder. Chance’s expression, like his
tone, held more eagerness than worry. Did the kid think it would be some kind of
lark to face down a wolf? Of course, from what Judge Madison had told Adam, the
twenty-one-year-old was on this expedition precisely because he
was
prone to seek out trouble.

“Sounds more like an infernal wildcat.” Everett adjusted his
shirt cuff with exaggerated care, doing a creditable job of appearing
unconcerned. But his British accent was more pronounced now, something Adam
noticed happened when anything rattled the dandified cynic.

Mitchell, who controlled the skittish carriage horse with ease,
refrained from comment. Nothing unusual in that. The loose-limbed bear of a man
had spent most of the trip west with a sort of sleepy-eyed disinterest. What
was
different, however, was the subtle alertness
that radiated from him now, as if he were a cavalryman waiting for the enemy to
appear over the rise.

Another strident note drew Adam’s focus back to the roadside.
He didn’t bother to disabuse them of the notion that it might be a wild animal.
It’d do the pampered trio good to have something to worry about besides the
unorthodox plot they’d gotten themselves embroiled in.

“Perhaps you should get the carriage moving,” Everett said.
“I’m sure our escort can handle this better without us to distract him.”

“We shouldn’t abandon Mr. Barr,” Chance shot back. “He might
need—”

“This is about common sense,
Junior
, not courage,” Everett interrupted. “Besides, I do believe Mr.
Barr is more interested in getting rid of the lot of us than having us guard his
back.”

“I told you before—the name’s Chance, not Junior.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. Everett was right. Even if it had been a
grizzly headed this way, he’d rather face
that
than
listen to more of this petty bickering. This assignment couldn’t be over soon
enough to suit him.

A heartbeat later, the source of the ear-grating racket stepped
onto the roadside. As soon as the creature caught sight of them, the discordant
warble ceased.

“It’s a man!” Chance’s tone carried as much disappointment as
surprise.

“Not quite.” Adam didn’t blame the youth for the mistake. The
party responsible for that unmelodic braying wore baggy overalls and an equally
oversize shirt, both of which had seen better days. There was even a smudge of
dirt on one cheek to match those on the clothing.

But this was no man.

From Adam’s closer vantage, he spied a frizzy brown braid long
enough to brush the seat of the overalls. That, along with the slender neck and
hint of curves below, proclaimed this person as most definitely female. He
hesitated, though, to use the word
lady.
She
appeared more a disheveled forest waif than a civilized being.

The girl seemed as startled as the men in the carriage. But a
flicker of something else—disbelief? wariness?—shadowed her surprise.

Remembering he still cradled the rifle, Adam resheathed it and
tipped his hat. No point scaring her more than they already had.

Besides, she might be a good source of information.

He dug deep for the polite pleasantries that had grown rusty
with disuse. “Good afternoon, miss. My apologies if we startled you.”

“Good heavens, it’s a girl.” Chance’s
whispered-but-easily-heard comment only served to heighten the color in her
cheeks as she broke eye contact with Adam.

“Or what passes for one in this barbaric wilderness.” Everett
didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Do you think she speaks English?”

Adam narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Did the men think just
because she looked like an uncivilized rube she didn’t have feelings?

But before he could say anything, the girl snapped out of her
slack-jawed immobility. Her lips compressed and her eyes flashed daggers. So,
there was more wildcat than rabbit in her, was there?

Instead of baring claws, however, she bent down to pluck a stem
of grass. Straightening, she favored them with a broad, neighborly grin as she
stuck the weed between her teeth.

But something in her stance told Adam the claws were there,
merely out of sight for now. He also noticed she didn’t step away from the
protection of the trees.

This girl was no fool. He mentally saluted her precaution, then
leaned back in the saddle, ready to enjoy whatever performance she had in store
for his companions.

“Howdy, gents.” Her words were drawn out in a thick, rustic
drawl. “I reckon I
was
a mite surprised at that, but
no harm done. We don’t get many strangers out this way, especially fancy-lookin’
gents like you ’uns.”

Her gaze flickered to Adam’s again. Some trick of the light
lent a luminosity to her irises, made them appear to change from green to blue
and back again. The image of a statue he’d admired in a museum years ago
shimmered through his memory. The scales of the dragon had seemed to glow, had
rippled with a fluidity of color that was mesmerizing.

This girl’s eyes were just like that.

She turned to the men behind him, and the spell was broken.
Adam collected himself, annoyed at the fanciful turn his thoughts had taken.
This trip must have worn on him more than he realized.

Mitchell remembered his manners first. “Are you all right,
miss?”

She slid the stem of grass to the other corner of her mouth
with bucolic nonchalance. As she did so, Adam saw her size up the speaker, no
doubt weighing Mitchell’s intimidating size against his concerned gaze.

She finally flashed a friendly grin. “Fit as a filly in a field
of clover. Why’d you ask?”

Let it go
, Adam silently advised.
But Mitchell apparently hadn’t figured out what was all too obvious to Adam.

“It’s just, well, that screeching we heard. I thought maybe
something had frightened you.”

Adam watched for her reaction with interest. Would she dissolve
into tears of mortification, or give Mitchell a blistering set-down for his
innocent blunder?

To his surprise, she did neither. Instead she winced and gave a
rueful smile. “My kinder friends call what you just heard a ‘joyful noise.’”

Adam tilted his hat back with one finger. A female who could
laugh at herself? Now
there
was a novelty.

Ruddy color crept into Mitchell’s face along with the belated
light of understanding. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean any disrespect.
I—”

She smiled and raised a hand. “Don’t fret none, mister. No
offense taken. Why do you think I wait ’til I’m out in the woods to really give
it my all?”

She looked around, including each of them in her gaze. “You
fellas lost? There’s not much out this way but trees and critters. If you’re
looking for the road to Bent Willow, you passed the turn about three miles
back.”

“Actually, we’re looking for Miss Regina Nash.” A flicker in
her expression told Adam she knew the name. “I understand she’s staying
somewhere out this way.” He’d hand it to the judge’s granddaughter, she’d taken
great pains to make it as difficult for him to find her as possible. But she
obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with if she thought a trek through the
woods would deter him.

The girl nodded, pulling the stem from her mouth and waving it
in the direction they’d been traveling. “Her place is about a twenty-minute ride
farther on. Can’t miss it.” She rolled the stem between her fingers, eyeing him
speculatively. “I was by there a bit ago, though, and it didn’t seem like they
was expecting company.”

He swallowed a sour laugh. “No, I don’t imagine they are.” He
watched her toss the blade of grass away, still intrigued by her in spite of
himself.

Goodness knows it didn’t have anything to do with her looks. In
that grubby getup and with smudges on her face, and her hair indifferently tamed
into a bushy braid, she lacked anything resembling sophistication or feminine
wiles. No, it was more the glimpse of personality he’d seen in her eyes, and the
complete lack of apology for her untidy appearance, even after the tactless
comments from the men in the carriage. The girl seemed a product of her
environment, completely lacking artifice or slyness.

“Do you live nearby?” he heard himself ask. “Can we give you a
ride?”

Now why had he made such an offer? It wasn’t like him to act
impulsively. Too late to retract the offer now, though.

“No, thanks. I’m headed that’a way.” She waved toward the trail
behind her.

Adam nodded with more relief than disappointment. As
interesting as this backwoods miss was, he didn’t have time for distractions
right now. The sooner he found Regina Nash, the sooner he could be done with
this mess.

“Then I suppose we’ll be on our way.” He gathered the reins.
“Good day.”

“Nice talking to you fellas.” She hooked her thumbs under the
straps of her overalls and rocked back on her heels. “Tell Miz Nash I said hello
when you see her.”

Adam raised a brow. “Who shall I say sends her greetings?”

“She’ll know.”

Being coy, was she? He’d already decided the girl wasn’t quite
as guileless as she seemed. That drawl was a bit too thick, that gleam in her
eyes a bit too knowing.

Not that he thought the worse of her for it. Under the
circumstances, she probably felt safer pretending to be simple. Living down to
their expectations, as it were.

He turned back to the carriage. “All right, gentlemen. Time to
move on.” But as he set Trib in motion, Adam felt her gaze on him, like a
prickle between his shoulder blades.

A moment later when he glanced back, however, she’d
disappeared.

He mentally offered a salute. It was as if, by getting him to
look back, she’d managed to have the last word.

Mitchell’s gaze followed Adam’s. “Who do you suppose she
was?”

Everett clapped Mitchell on the back. “So, you like an earthy
quality to your women, do you?”

Mitchell shot him a contemptuous glower. “The kind of woman I
like is none of your concern.”

Adam faced forward again, wondering why Everett took such
pleasure in needling his companions. Did he think his polished manner somehow
made him superior?

“Oh, she wasn’t so bad,” Chance offered. “Seemed a bit simple,
but she was friendly enough.”

Chance saw her as simple? Adam shook his head. Was he the only
one who’d glimpsed the intelligence in those changeable eyes?

“What does it matter?” Everett’s question had an irritable
edge. “Until Miss Nash makes her selection, none of us has any business looking
at another woman.”

A pall descended on the trio. The clink of harness and the
rattle of carriage wheels suddenly seemed unnaturally loud. The question of who
would be selected as the sacrificial lamb in this unorthodox lottery rode
alongside the carriage like a black-clad specter.

Would the man who drew the short straw
really
follow through with his end of the bargain? Adam shrugged off
any feelings of sympathy for their predicament. They’d known the terms before
they signed the contract.
His
only concern in this
matter was to see everything settled according to the judge’s wishes, and the
sooner the better.

For six eternal, nightmarish years, he’d waited for the day he
would be free to pursue the truth, to clear his reputation and unmask those who
had blackened it. The proof he needed was almost within reach now, he could feel
it. Soon, very soon, he’d be able to exonerate himself, to reclaim the life that
had been stolen from him.

But he couldn’t do it from Turnabout, Texas.

His frustration over being forced to put his own plans on hold
for even a day, much less four weeks, was burning a hole in his gut.

Not that he’d let on as much to anyone else. His ability to
maintain an unperturbed demeanor through any situation was a matter of pride to
him. And a major source of annoyance for his opponents.

It was an ability that had served him well in his years as a
trial lawyer. The drive to hold on to that one piece of himself, to not let them
take it away from him along with everything else, had helped keep him sane the
last six years.