The Secret Princess
Page 23
Luke’s heart sank. Had the pious man come to deliver bad news?
But Bartholomew shuffled quickly toward them. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I was only told this morning.”
“Do you bring news of the queen?” John asked quickly.
“They told me at the gate she is resting. I have not been to see her.”
John sagged forward with relief.
“Shall I pray with you?” Bartholomew asked.
“We have done nothing but pray and read the psalms,” John explained. “Give me some hope. My heart is too heavy with fear.”
“I know you fear for the worst—” Bartholomew began.
“Does it surprise you?” Luke would have taken the old deacon to the side and chastened him, but John wouldn’t have let them out of his hearing anyway, so he said what he had to say in front of him. “John lost his first wife in childbirth. Now Queen Gisela struggles.”
“You fear death?” Bartholomew leaned close as he spoke, and Luke was tempted to shake him.
“Of course he does.” He asked the man the same question he’d asked Evelyn along the road. “Can you raise the dead?”
“Which is easier,” Bartholomew asked, “to raise the dead, or to forgive sins?”
“To forgive, obviously,” Luke answered.
But the old deacon only shook his head. “Is it? Everyone dies, but how many know true forgiveness?”
Luke didn’t like the old man’s riddle of an answer at all, but before he could form a retort, the doors opened again.
This time, Hilda stood in the doorway, her eyes wide.
John looked at her with fear on his face.
Hilda panted—she’d obviously exerted herself more than usual. “King John? The queen is asking for you.”
John ran down the center of the chapel and fled through the doors after Hilda.
Luke was tempted to follow, but Bartholomew snagged his sleeve.
The deacon addressed Luke in an age-worn voice. “Do you know how to forgive?”
Unable to answer a question he wasn’t sure he understood, Luke remained silent.
Bartholomew’s smile was gone, replaced by a solemn look of utter sternness. “What good is life when you harbor condemnation in your heart? To be alive on the outside but dead inside? Far more blessed are those who die to this world but are alive in here.” His pudgy finger prodded Luke in the chest.
Before Luke could quite recover from the assault, the deacon turned and walked back the way he’d come, through the doors and into the light.
Luke blinked after him a moment, then sank to his knees. The place where the deacon had prodded him ached. It had ached for a long time, but now Luke knew why. He’d been asking for life, but the whole time he’d harbored death inside him.
“Forgive me, dear God, forgive me.”
How long he stayed there, bowed on the cold floor, he wasn’t certain, but it seemed no time at all before a long crack of light spilled across the floor. Luke looked up to see his sister, Elisabette, standing in the doorway, a look of expectation on her face.
Elisabette had exchanged several messages with Warrick, but in light of his many duties as the newly crowned king, Warrick had put off their wedding. Luke expected his sister had come to inquire of news from her betrothed.
But after a moment’s silence, she asked eagerly, “Do you hear?”
At that moment, the wailing cry of an infant met his ears. “Is it—?”
“Your niece. She is furious but well. They are both well.”
Chapter Nineteen
Castlehead, three days later
Luke stood in the tower, his elbows propped on the parapets, staring out to sea, lost in thought. Though the sun stood high in the sky and this tower, being in Castlehead, was not the same spot as the Sardis tower where he’d shared his first kiss with Evelyn, nonetheless, Luke could think of little else besides that moment.
He’d been wrong to be angry with her. He could see that now, having forgiven his brother—or more accurately, begged forgiveness of him. Luke had been wrong to harbor anger against his brother, as well.
The root problem, he realized now, was that he loved Evelyn. He’d loved her from the moment he’d opened his groggy, half-dead eyes on the dirt floor of that hut in the borderlands and seen her lovely face, heard her whispered prayers and felt her healing touch. That love had only grown when he’d met her again, and with every new thing he learned about her. He loved her with a desperate, burning love.
A love she’d only ever denied him. She’d run away. Fled from him, lied to him, turned her back on his declarations of affection and refused to return his love. Perhaps the villagers had been correct after all—those who’d said the pale-haired woman was only a figment of his fevered mind. For truly, though Evelyn lived and breathed, she’d slipped from his fingers like a rising mist and fled from him as the haze of morning flees from the light of the sun.
That, then, was why he’d pushed her away in such anger and turned his back on all he’d cared for. He loved her, but she did not return his affection. The realization speared through his tender heart, making him gasp for breath as though he’d been struck by a real spear. For all the ardor in her kisses, she’d turned him away time and again and fled at the first opportunity to the far reaches of Christendom.
He loved her. He feared he might always love her, and the pain in his heart might never cease. What could he do? If there was even a small chance she might return his love, should he travel to tell her?
Luke stared out to sea, hardly blinking as he studied the far horizon into which his love had disappeared. As he stared, he could almost picture the ship she’d left on, his brother Prince Mark’s ship. But this ship was pointed toward Castlehead, not away. And it drew nearer instead of disappearing over the horizon.
Finally, Luke realized it was Mark’s ship headed to Castlehead after another long journey. Good. Mark was just in time for the celebration of the birth of their niece. Luke hurried down the stairs to announce the ship’s approach. Perhaps Mark would have news of Evelyn. If nothing else, his brother could give him his assurance that she’d crossed the sea safely, since Luke had not seen his brother in five months, not since he’d sailed away with Evelyn and Bertie on board. His decision about her would have to wait.
Aachen, AD 802, autumn
Evelyn heard footsteps in the courtyard behind her and turned from her parchment, settling the quill securely in its tray.
“Grandfather?” She rose to greet her mother’s father. “You’re home from the palace quite early today.”
Her grandfather embraced her lightly, kissing her cheek in greeting as she kissed his.
“There is someone here to see you.”
Evelyn felt her heart leap inside her. “Who is it?”
To her surprise, a smile spread across her grandfather’s face, and he turned back to look in the direction he’d come, though he did not move from the spot where he stood.
Evelyn turned, as well, in the direction her grandfather looked and realized for the first time there was a broad-shouldered figure who’d entered behind her grandfather who’d been standing quietly among the shadows as they’d spoken.
The man hesitated only a moment, then stepped slowly into the light. As he entered the sunlit courtyard, first his legs, then his upper body and finally the features of his face were illuminated so Evelyn could see him clearly. She recalled instantly all the times when, missing Prince Luke, she’d thought she’d spotted him passing by or had caught a glimpse of him from the corner of one eye, only to turn and find she’d been mistaken.
And so she stared in disbelief at the man who stood before her, certain her eyes deceived her. Had her longing heart fooled her eyes into thinking Prince Luke stood before her?
“Evelyn.” Luke’s wo
rds carried through the air between them in an awed whisper. “You are even lovelier than I remember you.”
“I—” Evelyn began, then rubbed her eyes and took a step closer. “I must be dreaming.”
Luke grinned. “Is it a good dream?”
“The very best.” Somehow she’d made her legs move so that now she stood just in front of him, close enough to see the twinkle in his eyes and catch a hint of his scent. “Is it really you?”
“Check my scar,” he offered, lifting the hem of his habergeon to reveal the healed wound she knew so well.
She reached for him with trembling fingers, and he cupped her hands in his. “How did you get here?”
“By ship and then by caravan.”
“But why?”
“To bring word to Charlemagne that his daughter Gisela has borne him a healthy granddaughter, named Charlotte, after the emperor.” Luke paused, drawing her fingers to his lips and brushing a kiss lightly against them. “And to see if there is any chance for us. I must ask you to forgive my anger, which I held far too long against you.”
“You are entitled to your anger. My offense was great.” Evelyn thought she might weep for the joy of seeing him but found herself too happy even for tears.
“Far greater was my offense, for begrudging you a secret you kept to save your brother’s life. Your decision was an honorable one. I have foolishly denied myself the joy of your company far too long, but I believed you did not return the love I felt for you. But I had to offer you my heart one last time to see if you returned my affections.”
He gripped her hands with desperate gentleness as he continued. “Many times on my journey north, I have wondered about the unquenchable love I feel for you, which compelled me to seek you out in the borderlands and now to find you again far from my own kingdom.”
Evelyn felt tears of happiness rise to her eyes as he spoke and as the shock of his presence gave way to joy. “I feel for you the love of a woman who prayed over you through the night and would not let you die, a love that continued to burn even when you rode away from me in anger, and we were separated by a long journey. I love you with all the love I have to give.”
Luke’s expression of cautious hope broadened to a grin of pure joy, and he swallowed, managing to speak only one word before he kissed her. “Good.”
Evelyn melted against the prince as he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up almost to her toes as he kissed her fervently. She held him tight, her happiness overflowing. After all the times she’d had to push him away, now she could hold him close and confess how she truly felt. Suddenly, Luke pulled away.
He dropped down onto one knee. “Will you be my bride?”
Overcome by emotion and surprise, Evelyn simply slumped down toward him, all her longings realized in that moment. She tried to look in his eyes, but he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her up as he stood, kissing her as though he could make up for all the time they’d been apart.
Distantly, she heard her grandfather chuckle. “I believe she accepts your proposal.”
“Yes,” Evelyn whispered when she pulled back for just a moment. “I do.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from TAMING THE TEXAS RANCHER by Rhonda Gibson.
Dear Reader,
The world was a very different place in the year AD 802, and yet the people weren’t so very different from people today. They cared about their families, about honor and love, and the Christians of Lydia tried to live out God’s love in spite of the greed and craftiness of their neighbors. Then as now, as old Deacon Bartholomew put it, “far more blessed are those who die to this world but are alive in their hearts.”
I hope the people of Lydia came alive for you in this story. For more information about the kingdom of Lydia and the books that tell the stories of the princes and princesses of that kingdom, visit my website at www.rachellemccalla.com. You can also find me on Facebook, Goodreads and Twitter.
And may the love of God be alive in your heart, not just today but always.
Blessings,
Rachelle
Questions for Discussion
Evelyn believed Luke was dead. When she learned he was alive—and a prince—she was amazed. Have you ever felt certain an old love—a person, thing or activity—was gone forever from your life, only to find it resurrected? How did you feel?
Luke enters Fier with confidence, trusting that King Garren’s honor and the peace treaty between them will keep him safe. However, King Garren doesn’t honor the treaty. What does this contrast tell you about the two characters? In what ways are the two men similar? How are they different?
Because of her grandfather, Evelyn has learned not to trust royalty. When she learns Luke is a prince, she immediately assumes he cannot be trusted. However, he soon proves otherwise through his actions and the risks he takes on her behalf. Have you ever felt wary of someone, only to learn they are more honorable than you thought? Or has someone you trusted betrayed you?
Luke gave his word to Bertie that he would help the boy and his sister find freedom. Do you think his promise—and his insistence on keeping it—added anything to his sense of betrayal when he learned Evelyn had kept her and Bertie’s parentage a secret from him?
Luke’s status as a prince requires him to marry a worthy woman—someone of rank, certainly not a slave. He understands the importance of a diplomatic union and doesn’t argue with the idea, yet he can’t help the way he feels toward Evelyn. How do you feel about his attitude? How is his culture different from yours, and how is it similar?
The laws of vengeance—eye for eye, tooth for tooth, life for life—were pervasive in ancient times, crossing cultural and geographical boundaries. Though they seem unfamiliar and harsh to us today, they were the reality for most people throughout history. How did Prince Luke’s Christian beliefs run counter to the laws everyone else followed? How do your Christian beliefs differ with those of the cultures around you?
Evelyn is delighted with the gift of the prayer book. Living in a pagan household, she has found it difficult to keep her faith alive without any reminders of Christianity. Do you have books that encourage your faith? In what ways do they sustain you? Have you ever taken them for granted, or are you overjoyed just as Evelyn was?
Prince Luke has noticed many clues that indicate Evelyn has not always been a slave. She is educated, articulate and expresses her thoughts in a manner uncharacteristic of her station. How do his observations play into his questions about her background and his growing love for her? Do you rise above your circumstances as Evelyn did?
What do you think of Prince Warrick? Though his father, Garren, was a harsh, deceitful king, Warrick claims a desire to follow the Christian beliefs of his betrothed. Do you believe he is sincere? What do his actions tell you about his character?
What do you think of Bertie? He is very reluctant to forgive Warrick for killing his father in battle. Do you believe his forgiveness is sincere? What about Bertie’s other actions—his quest for riches and his claim to the crown of the Dometian tribe? What do you think he will do in the coming years?
King Garren is crafty and greedy. How do these attributes lead to his downfall?
Luke is greatly offended not just at the truth of Evelyn’s parentage but that his brother didn’t send messengers to tell him that truth once he’d learned it. Why do you think Luke was so upset? Was his anger rooted only in the slight against him, or did it come from much deeper feelings? Have you ever transferred your anger from one issue to another? What kind of forgiveness is necessary to clear away all the pain?
Old Deacon Bartholomew speaks bluntly of life, death and forgiveness. Do you agree with what the deacon had to say? Have you forgiven those who’ve wronged you?
How do you feel about Prince Luke and Evelyn? Do you believe they make a good match?
Chapter One
Granite, Texas
Spring 1886
“What are you doing here?” Daniel Westland scowled at his younger brother, Levi. He’d been running late, and seeing his brother standing there, looking freshly cleaned and pressed, was not what he’d expected. The wildflowers in Levi’s hands spun daintily in the breeze that swished about them as the stagecoach pulled to a stop.
Dust filled the air, and both men shaded their eyes against the grit. As soon as the horses came to a complete halt and the dust settled, Levi answered, “I imagine I’m here for the same reason you are, big brother.”
Levi grinned. His green eyes sparkled with mischief. Daniel’s scowl deepened. Surely Levi hadn’t sent off for a mail-order bride, also? But then again, maybe he had. Daniel pulled his hat farther down on his forehead to shade his eyes from both his brother and the sun.
While they waited for the driver to leap down and open the carriage door, Daniel thought of the woman within the stagecoach. She was a schoolteacher and had written that she felt it was time to have children of her own. The letter promised she had all her teeth, that she was twenty-eight years old and believed in God.
Daniel’s jaw tightened. Once more he wanted to scream that he didn’t have time for this, he had a ranch to run! Why his mother, Bonnie Westland, felt the need for grandchildren now was beyond his comprehension.
Truth be told, he wasn’t ready for a wife or children, but his mother was feeling the pinch of old age. At Christmas she’d decided that her sons needed wives and she needed grandchildren. She’d proclaimed over dinner that the first son to marry and produce a grandchild would inherit the ranch.