Prince Incognito

by Rachelle Mccalla

  From the moment Lillian sees the injured soldier, she feels like she needs to help him. How do you feel about her response? Do you agree with her decision to bring the injured man to her parents’ boat? What might she have done differently under the circumstances? What would you have done?

  Sandra Bardici seems quite interested in learning the identity of the soldier on their boat. As we learn much later in the story, she’s been conspiring with her brother-in-law. Why do you think she was so interested in figuring out who Alec was? Do you think she recognized him and alerted David?

  Alec repeatedly rescues Lily, even though he doesn’t know who he is or why she’s being threatened. What do his actions reveal about his character? Why do you think he chose to do what he did?

  From very early on in her adventure, Lily decides to ally herself with a man she doesn’t know. What factors prompted her decision? Do you think she made the right choices?

  Do you think Titus dropped his canteen on purpose? Why or why not?

  As Alec realizes who he is and remembers what has happened, he feels a burning need to try to help his family, but at the same time there is little he can doing without risking getting caught. Have you ever wanted to help your loved ones, but felt hampered by circumstances? How did you overcome the constraints of your situation? How does Alec overcome the obstacles before him?

  When Lily learns that the man she’s falling in love with is really a prince, she tries unsuccessfully to quash her feelings. Do you think a person’s station in life should influence how you feel about them? Have you ever had a friendship stifled by socioeconomic factors? Do you think this is how God intends for people to live?

  With no money of her own, Lily has to rely on Alec’s generosity. Have you ever had to accept something, knowing you might not get the chance to pay the giver back? How did you respond? How did that experience influence your future decisions?

  As Alec and Lily debate whether to turn back, Lily says, “I’d rather die chasing a dream than giving up.” Do you think it matters which way a person is headed when they die? What does Lily’s statement reveal about her faith? Where was Jesus Christ headed when He died? Does His death influence the way you live your life?

  If Alec and Lily had given up one ridge earlier, they would never have known an oasis lay just beyond them. Have you ever felt like giving up? What kept you going? Have you reached an oasis, or are you still trudging?

  When Lily looks back at her footprints in the sand, she’s reminded that God has carried her through all her trials, and even literally carried her in Alec’s arms. Look back at the footprints along the path you’ve been walking. Can you see the places where God has carried you? Do your footprints dance in tandem with God’s, or are there scuffle marks where you’ve been fighting God’s plans for your life? How does Lily’s journey encourage you on your journey?

  When David Bardici taunts Alec in the dungeon, he tells Alec he’s failed his family and failed God. Do your enemies ever whisper similar taunts in your ears? How did Alec respond? Can you sort out the truth from the lies you’ve heard whispered?

  When Lily realizes she needs the maid’s key to get into her uncle’s office, she refuses to steal it or to lie to the woman to get it. Instead, she’s honest with the woman and politely asks to borrow it. Do you think God rewards those who choose to do the right thing? Is it ever okay to steal or lie?

  Alec has served alongside his fellow soldiers. When he arrives with orders for General Bardici to step down, his fellow men immediately recognize his authority. Why do you think they respect him? How does your behavior influence the way others treat you? Do your actions reflect your faith in Christ and accurately represent the God you serve? What steps can you take to represent Christ in your daily life?

  Family Ever After

  Linda Goodnight

  ONE

  Ashley Harcourt finally had a handle on her life.

  Maybe.

  She hitched her baby boy higher on one hip and opened the wooden back gate leading through the colorful gardens between the cottages and the blacksmith shop. The metal clang of the smithy’s hammer echoed through the summer morning.

  A tiny thrill raced up Ashley’s arms as it did every day since beginning her internship at the Colonial Williamsburg Department of Research and Design. She loved everything about the historic town almost as much as she loved creating the clothes worn by the shopkeepers and tradesmen traversing the streets.

  Best of all, here in Williamsburg she was just another intern, not a notorious Harcourt from Chestnut Grove.

  Though the worst had died down, the unpleasant publicity hounding her family’s connection to the embattled Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency provided enough reason for Ashley to love the idea of a summer away. Chestnut Grove was only a few miles down the road, so she could be away from the scandal—both her family’s and that of her own making—yet remain close enough to see her family anytime she chose.

  Yes, here in Williamsburg, she could enjoy America’s past and hide from her own.

  The smithy’s hammering ceased.

  “Ashley?” a male voice called from somewhere behind her.

  Ashley stopped and whipped around, her long skirt circling her legs with fresh air. She’d only been here a week. Who could possibly be calling her name?

  A lean, muscular figure exited the open door of the blacksmith shop and came toward her, dusty black boots crunching softly on the glittering oyster shell path. Dressed in a leather apron over knee britches and a loose, muslin shirt opened at the throat, he looked like a blast from the past.

  The thought froze in her head as recognition dawned. He was a blast from the past. The near past. Hers.

  “Christopher?” she squeaked.

  The man she’d turned her back on when she’d been young and stupid was here, in Williamsburg.

  “It’s me,” he said, the familiar, crooked smile saying he was pleased to see her.

  So much for hiding from the past.

  “I saw you from the window,” he continued, motioning toward the blacksmith shop behind him. “Anyway, I thought it was you. What are you doing here in Williamsburg?”

  His green-as-spring gaze took in her long, colonial-style dress. From his behavior, it appeared he bore her no ill will. She just didn’t get that. Surely even Christians held grudges.

  Well, what did it matter one way or the other what he thought of her? A guy like Chris would have found a great wife by now who was as good as he was. No doubt, he barely remembered the short-lived relationship with Ashley Harcourt. He didn’t know it, but God had been looking out for him back then.

  She shifted the baby a little higher on one hip and said, “I’m interning in the fashion department.”

  With a smile, Chris held his arms out to the side. “So you’re the one making the interpreters’ duds?”

  “One of several. I’m still learning.” And until this moment, she’d thought the internship was the answer to her prayers.

  Guess not.

  “That’s great,” he said. Laugh lines, always present around his mouth and eyes, deepened.

  “So what are you doing here? I heard you became a minister.”

  “I did. A little church in modern Williamsburg not far from William and Mary, but you know how I always liked history. This is the best of both worlds. I can work on my master’s thesis in historical trades, play with the forge and hammer and still take care of my church.”

  History was one of the things they’d had in common back at Tarkington, the elite private school they’d both attended, she because her parents were filthy rich and he because he was smart enough to get a scholarship. She’d always envied that brilliance. More than that, she’d envied his steadfast awareness of who he was and what he wanted out of life. Nothi
ng ever shook Chris Sullivan. Faith and goodness emanated from him now as it did then.

  “That’s great.” She noticed he didn’t say one word about taking care of a family. Could someone like Chris still be single?

  A tiny flame of something akin to hope flickered in her chest, but she immediately doused it.

  Christopher was a nice guy. Good. Holy, even. And she was—well, she wasn’t holy, that was for certain.

  “So how have you been?” he asked.

  “Busy.” That was an understatement, considering the mess she’d made of her life. “You?”

  “Yep. Crazy busy, but it’s all good.” She wished she could say the same. “What time is your lunch? We can go to Chownings for root beer and barbeque and catch up.”

  Catch up? As nice as that sounded, she didn’t think so, given he was a minister and she was an unwed mother with a guilt complex bigger than a colonial hoop skirt. God may have forgiven her, but she was still working on forgiving herself.

  “I don’t know, Chris. Sometimes the past is better left alone.”

  If he knew the depth of her sin, a sin far greater than having a child out of wedlock, he wouldn’t even speak to her.

  His green eyes turned serious. “Friends don’t stop being friends because of a disagreement.”

  “You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

  He laughed. “Some. I hope for the better. So what do you say? Lunch later?”

  While she struggled for a kind but firm way out of a reunion lunch, Chris turned his attention to the baby. “And who’s this little guy?”

  As usual, she’d waited too long to do the right thing. Story of her life.

  Embarrassed heat rushed up the neck of her high lace collar, but she fought it off. She was ashamed of herself, but never of her baby.

  “This is Gabriel,” she said with quiet pride. “My son.”

  Something flickered in Chris’s expression as he glanced from the baby to her. But it wasn’t the censure she’d expected.

  “So you married the guy,” he said softly.

  Heart thudding, she hitched her chin. “No. Actually, I didn’t. He had other plans.”

  Denying any responsibility, Gabriel’s father had headed for Europe the day after discovering her pregnancy. According to his family, Ashley was a climber trying to lay claim to the family’s wealth and position. Had her own family not been wealthy, she could have understood their point. As it was, Roman’s behavior only proved how wrong she’d been to trust him in the first place.

  All the girls had wanted the new guy. He’d been exciting and wild, everything Chris wasn’t. She’d been flattered when the sophisticated heir to one of D.C.’s most prominent families cast his wandering eye and seductive smile in her direction. But no one had ever told her about men like Roman Fields.

  To Chris’s credit, he didn’t press for the ugly details, though he had to be curious. Instead, he took Gabriel’s reaching fingers and gave them a gentle shake. “Nice to meet you, little man.”

  Ashley’s heart squeezed as her baby displayed four front teeth in a wide grin. There was something undeniably beautiful about a child’s tiny hand wrapped around a man’s long fingers. Especially this man’s.

  The thought jerked her to her senses. She could not, would not, let herself think such things.

  Abruptly she said, “I have to go now.”

  As she deftly pried Gabriel’s fingers loose, her skin brushed Chris’s hand. The flutter in her belly was a warning she couldn’t deny. “Can’t be late for work. Sorry.”

  And she was. Sorry for all that she’d ruined. Sorry for the wrong she’d done. Sorry she’d lost all hope in the relationship department.

  Chris took one step back, his arms falling to his side. “Sure. Okay.”

  She could hear the disappointment and hated herself for putting it there. But common sense screamed for her to escape before she did something really stupid, like ask if he was married.

  * * *

  If Ashley had hit him in the face with a mud brick, he couldn’t have been more surprised. Or angry.

  Though heat billowed from the fire, and sweat ran down his face, Chris didn’t take a break from the forge.

  Ashley Harcourt, the girl he couldn’t forget—make that the woman he couldn’t forget—was back in his life. They’d lost touch when he’d graduated, considering she was with Roman, while he was the voice crying in the wilderness, scared of what a cad like Roman would do to a gentle, insecure girl like Ashley. Might as well admit the truth. He’d been jealous, too.

  He figured the Lord would understand if he wanted to punch the blue blood right out of Roman’s nose.

  Instead, he slammed the hammer down on the anvil with grim satisfaction.

  She’d changed, matured. There was a sad wisdom in her brown eyes that hadn’t been there in the old days. But she was still Ashley, the only woman he’d ever entertained any thoughts of marrying. From the first time he’d seen her in some funky looking vintage hat he’d been in love with her, though she hadn’t known it. He’d prayed a lot about her, especially after Roman came into the picture, and he finally decided he’d let his own will get in the way of God’s. Sometimes it was hard to tell the two apart.

  But now she was back.

  The idea gave him pause. He stopped, hands on hips, and stared out the window in the direction she’d gone. She was here, at least for the summer. So was he.

  That had to mean something.

  TWO

  “Ow!” Ashley stuck her index finger into her mouth and sucked hard.

  Milly, her boss, looked up from stitching a lace-edged cap. “Did you stick yourself with a needle again? What’s wrong today, Ashley? I’ve never seen you so fumble-fingered.” Then with a sly smile, the middle-aged woman added, “Wouldn’t be that handsome smithy I saw you talking to, would it?”

  Ashley’s nerve endings jittered. She’d thought of little else all morning. It seemed as if every time she started making progress in her life, something came along to knock her backward.

  No, that wasn’t fair, nor was it correct. Chris Sullivan had been a good friend. He’d never done a thing to cause her pain. She’d caused her own problems. Didn’t the Bible say she had to reap whatever she’d sown? And she had sown some very bad seed.

  “Chris is an old friend,” she said simply.

  “That’s good.” Milly hitched a square chin toward the door just as the bell jangled overhead. “Because here he comes.”

  This time Ashley’s stomach jumped into her throat. Chris had discarded the tradesman’s apron but he still wore seventeenth-century garb, as was required of all who worked in the town. His dark brown hair was slicked back and caught at the nape in a very short ponytail. She wondered what his congregation thought of that.

  “It’s lunchtime,” he announced without preliminaries. “Right, Milly?”

  The designer glanced at the watch pinned to her gingham bodice. “That it is, young man.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I escort Miss Harcourt to Chownings. We have some catching up to do.”

  Milly eyed him over the rim of her skinny little bifocals. “Only if you promise to bring her back by one. Patrick Henry expects his new waistcoat today.”

  Chris chuckled. “Far be it from me to upset the fiery Mr. Henry. I’ll have her back in time.” He aimed a challenging grin at Ashley. “Grab whatever you need, and I’ll get the little guy.”

  While Ashley grappled for bearings, he went straight to the playpen. Gabriel held up chubby arms and babbled happily as Chris scooped him up.

  “Chris, I can’t.” She didn’t need the grief or the reminders of what an idiot she’d been. Still was.

  “Can’t what? Eat?” By now Gabriel had latched o
n to Chris’s ear. “Is this a medical problem I should know about? Everyone eats.” He gave Gabriel a little bounce. “Isn’t that right, champ?”

  When Gabriel laughed, Ashley cracked a smile. “There’s nothing wrong with my appetite.”

  “That’s a relief. Sickly women scare me.” Chris scooped an old-fashioned diaper bag onto his opposite arm and started toward the door with her baby. When she didn’t move, he said, “Are you coming or is it just me and the little guy for lunch?”

  The man had certainly changed from a docile, studious youth to a strong, forceful man. And the difference was rather thrilling.

  “You’d kidnap my son?”

  A dimple flashed in his right cheek. “Want to find out?”

  “I might stand right here and see if you would do it.”

  He opened the door. Gabriel looked at her, puzzled for a moment, and then he waved bye-bye. Christopher burst out laughing. “I think he likes me.”

  So did she. That was the trouble.

  Ashley studied his teasing expression for two beats before making up her mind. Chris was a friend. They were far enough away from Chestnut Grove to keep him from discovering her shameful secret, and right now she could use a good friend.

  “All right,” she sniffed, fighting the urge to laugh, too. “Anything to protect my son.”

  Behind her, Milly snorted. Knowing her boss’s propensity for romance novels and soap operas, Ashley let that slide right by. She needed friends, not a matchmaker. Later, she’d make it clear that there was nothing but friendship going on between her and Chris.

  As they stepped out on the boardwalk, Christopher offered his elbow.

  Ashley shook her head. “You have an old-fashioned diaper bag on there. I think that’s probably enough.”

  Instantly, he shifted both baby and bag to one arm. “What’s your excuse now, Miss Harcourt?”