Rachelle McCalla - A Royal Marriage

A Wedding Awaits

Despite her protests, Princess Gisela, headstrong daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor Charlemagne, must enter into a diplomatic marriage. Yet en route to her wedding, her ship is attacked and she’s gravely injured. Rescued by a renowned healer, King John of Lydia, Gisela recuperates at his Mediterranean castle. The handsome, widowed ruler soon has her reevaluating her beliefs on love and marriage...but only if King John could be her groom. Their love is forbidden, and duty requires him to deliver her to her betrothed. Unless they can find a way to join their hearts—and kingdoms—with love, faith and honor.

Gisela got the sense that King John still mourned some great loss.

Her injury throbbed, distorting her thoughts with feverish confusion. Was it the king’s pain or her own that filled her heart with sorrow?

Already strained by the gash on her head, Gisela whimpered softly as tears formed.

“Whoa.” The king pulled his mount to a halt. He shifted, and a moment later Gisela felt his hand on her face. “Are you getting worse?”

The touch of his hand imparted comfort, and when he drew it away, she missed it.

“Rest if you can,” he murmured, slowly urging the horse up to speed. “We have a long way to travel yet.”

The king’s words were a reminder she sorely needed. Yes. She had a mission to fulfill. She couldn’t die.

The people they’d left back at the dock were depending on her. If she didn’t make it, there would likely be war, not only for her father’s people, but for King John’s, too. She owed it to them to survive.

More than that, she owed it to King John himself.

RACHELLE McCALLA

is a mild-mannered housewife, and the toughest she ever has to get is when she’s trying to keep her four kids quiet in church. Though she often gets in over her head, as her characters do, and has to find a way out, her adventures have more to do with sorting out the carpool and providing food for the potluck. She’s never been arrested, gotten in a fistfight or been shot at. And she’d like to keep it that way! For recipes, fun background notes on the places and characters in this book and more information on forthcoming titles, visit www.rachellemccalla.com.

A Royal Marriage

Rachelle McCalla

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven… A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

—Ecclesiastes 3:1, 8

To Gisela, daughter of Charlemagne, and all her sisters throughout history whose stories have been lost to us. While we don’t know precisely how you spent your days, this book shows how I imagine you to be based on those few details we do know. Most importantly, we know you were a woman of faith. I hope my words have been faithful, if not to the facts long lost to time, then at least to your spirit.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Castlehead, Lydia, A.D. 801

“A ship approaches, Your Majesty. Her sail is spread with the Carolingian cross.” Renwick, chief messenger among the Lydian guard, bowed low before the king.

“Charlemagne.” His Royal Highness, King John of Lydia, lowered the sword with which he’d been sparring with his younger brother, Prince Luke. Why would the Holy Roman Emperor send a ship to Lydia unannounced? Charlemagne’s realm had expanded vastly under his leadership, but John had assumed the renowned ruler would have no interest in the tiny kingdom of Lydia. Was he wrong?

King John turned to face the messenger. “She approaches directly?”

“Making for the wharf at high speed, sire,” Renwick panted as though he, too, had run to reach the king quickly.

“Then we shall make haste, as well.” Sheathing his sword, John headed for the courtyard gate, the fastest route to the Mediterranean shore.

“To the lookout tower, Your Majesty?” Renwick appeared confused by the king’s choice of direction.

“No, Renwick.” John led the way. “To the wharf.”

Prince Luke ran beside him. “Why would Charlemagne visit Lydia? We are not his vassals.”

“I doubt it is Charlemagne himself,” King John acknowledged. “The emperor regularly sends emissaries throughout his empire to report back to him.” He prayed that was true this time, irregular though it might seem.

“But Lydia is not part of his empire.” Luke chafed visibly at the idea.

“We are part of Christendom. As such, we ought to ally ourselves closely with the Holy Roman Empire. Such a position could prove to be advantageous.” John reached the end of the wharf and shielded his eyes from the sun, examining the quickly approaching vessel, her sails emblazoned with the distinctive Carolingian cross, four triquetras joined at the center to form the distinctive symbol of Emperor Charlemagne’s reign.

“Three masts!” The sight filled John with awe. Lydia had no ship to match it. And yet, “She looks to be wounded.”

“Aye, brother.” Luke clapped one hand on John’s shoulder and pointed with the other. “Her foresail has been rent and hastily mended. Do you think she has weathered a storm?”

“Or an attack.” John met his brother’s eyes.

“Saracens?” Prince Luke spoke the word softly, as though saying it aloud might draw the vicious pirates closer.

“They raid the Mediterranean waters regularly.”

“Never so close to Lydia.”

“We don’t know how far this ship has come,” King John acknowledged. “Or whether the Saracens may have taken her.”

“Taken her?” Fear sparked in his brother’s blue eyes as he looked out to the ship and back at the ramparts of their castle. If the pirates had taken the ship, they could approach under Charlemagne’s cross and dock before the Lydians realized trouble had reached their shores. The castle’s defenses might be breached before they could even prepare for battle. “Why would Saracens approach so boldly?”

“For no good reason.” John shook his head. He didn’t want to believe that Saracen pirates had taken the emperor’s ship, but given her condition, it was a distinct possibility. “Let us pray for Lydia’s safety.”

While the brothers murmured hasty yet heartfelt prayers, King John heard the rumble of boot steps on the wharf. He turned to find Eliab and Urias, two courtiers who’d been his father’s close advisors, panting as they trotted down the wharf.

“Your Majesty,” Urias called out. “You should not be out here!”

“This does not look good.” Eliab gestured to the ship as he bent to catch his breath.

“His Majesty should hide until we’ve determined the motives of the approaching vessel.”

John dismissed their concerns. The pair often treated him as though he was still a child, though he’d weathered twenty-eight winters and had ruled Lydia capably since his father’s death four years before. “I may determine their motives much faster if I stay here.”