A Royal Marriage

by Rachelle Mccalla

  God’s blessings on your journey,

  Rachelle

  Questions for Discussion

  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?

  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?

  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?

  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?

  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?

  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.

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

  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?

  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?

  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?

  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?

  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?

  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?

  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?

  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

  An 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.”