Love Inspired Historical October 2013 Bundle: A Family for Christmas\The Secret Princess\Taming the Texas Rancher\An Unlikely Union (32 page)

How could her father do such a thing? He was a harsh man, to be sure, but he’d long protected her and her brother, especially on the journey south after her mother had died. She knew, too, that her father had been desperate to prove his worth to King Garren. Had that desperation pushed him to kill King Theodoric? She hated to think her father had committed such an act, and yet Prince Luke’s story aligned all too well with what she knew of the circumstances.

She’d known her father was a criminal. But to kill the king?

The prince bowed his head. “Forgive me. I should not have shared so much. I had meant for our meeting to be a pleasant one, and yet at the smallest reminder, I bring up the bitterness that stains my soul.”

Evelyn could only whisper. “Did you ever have vengeance on him?”

“He was killed in battle by Warrick, his half brother.”

“You had no opportunity for retribution?” Evelyn’s heart pounded so loudly she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hear the prince’s answer. By the laws of vengeance that her grandfather Garren took so seriously, justice required life for life. Many were the tales told of kings who killed all the sons of their enemies in exchange for the crimes against them. Death begat death. It had always been so.

“No.” Prince Luke’s voice was cold. “I have seen too much of war, of battle. I’ve come too near the threshold of death. My only desire now is for peace.”

Evelyn nodded, unable to meet his eyes. He’d not had the opportunity to avenge his father’s death. If she’d been the only child of her father, she might have drawn up the courage to make full confession then. But she’d already told Prince Luke she had a brother. If she confessed their father was Rab the Raider, Luke or his brother King John would kill Bertie. Vengeance always preferred sons to daughters, and whatever Prince Luke said of peace, she knew the laws of retribution too well to deceive herself into thinking the Lydians would pass up an opportunity to avenge their father’s death.

She felt like a coward, but she couldn’t confess that Rab the Raider was her father, not if it meant endangering her brother. “I must leave,” she whispered once she found her voice.

“But the sun is only now rising. I’ve waited a week to see you and have yet to learn any more about you. Please stay a little longer.”

Guilt spurred her as she recalled the message she’d come to deliver. “It is too dangerous for both of us to be here. When King Garren discovered you’d escaped from the tower, he charged Omar, the captain of the night guard, to bring you back, alive or dead.”

Prince Luke’s expression hardened. He shook his head. “Why should I fear this Omar? I have not heard of his exploits before.”

“He is brutal.”

“But why should he care to come after me? Has the king put a price on my head?”

Evelyn froze, unable to tear her eyes away from the prince’s face.

“What price, then? From your expression I gather it is something great. Promotion? Land and title? I am only a prince, not a king. What would my head be worth?”

“The king has promised Omar...” Evelyn swallowed. Could she speak the words? She had held back too much of the truth from Prince Luke already. Surely she was not that much of a coward, nor was she as deceptive as her grandfather. “If he captures or kills you...” She pinched her eyes shut. How could she explain? She was a common slave. If Luke knew she was Garren’s granddaughter, he might guess the truth about her father, and then Bertie’s life would be in danger.

“Yes? What is it?” Prince Luke bent his head close to hers. “Your behavior makes me so curious. What has he promised him?”

“Omar fancies me. Why, I cannot say.”

“For your beauty? Your charm, your grace, your skills, the gift of healing in your hands?” Prince Luke recited many attributes, flattering her. “I can think of many reasons why a man would fancy you.”

Heart pounding, Evelyn wasn’t sure how to respond. Prince Luke spoke so kindly of her. Yet if he knew the truth, how quickly would his attitude change?

The prince still held her hand and now gave it a small squeeze. “Omar fancies you,” he repeated. “How does that relate to the price on my head?”

“If Omar brings you back, alive or dead, King Garren will give me to Omar as his bride.”

* * *

“No.” Luke pulled Evelyn into his arms. He couldn’t help it. True, he’d vowed to guard his heart, but the idea of this kind, sensitive woman being given to a killing brute as his bride—Luke couldn’t stand the thought. He tucked her head against his shoulder and nestled his chin atop her hair, as though he could shield her from sight and from Omar’s grasp. “I will not let him touch you. Return to Lydia with me.”

“I can’t—”

Luke anticipated her protest. “We can bring your brother. The king and queen have already extended their invitation. There is no reason for you to stay in this bitter land any longer.”

But Evelyn only pulled away from him, shaking her head and blinking back tears.

“Why not?” Luke thought quickly. What could possibly compel the woman to remain in Garren’s pagan household? Then he remembered. “Your grandfather—you spoke of a grandfather. Do you have more family? I’m sure they would all be welcome.”

Evelyn shook her head harder, her chin quivering, the rays of the rising sun glinting off her hair and her face, making each tear on her cheek sparkle.

“Or are they too old and feeble to move?” Luke wished he could understand why the woman felt such devotion to a place that only brought her shame and misery.

“Please,” she said, finding her voice at last, “there will be no threat to me as long as you stay well away from Fier. Omar dares not cross into Lydia. If you remain in your kingdom, he cannot touch you, and I will be safe.”

Luke met her eyes, their pale blue in stark contrast to the redness aroused by her tears, bright and sparkling as she pleaded with him. His heart felt torn asunder. If he never ventured close to Fier and she refused to leave Garren’s household, when would he ever see her again?

And yet, wasn’t it for the best? She couldn’t be his. He knew that. Perhaps it would be less painful for both of them if he never saw her again.

Never saw her again? How could he prevent her from being married to Omar if he never came any closer than the Lydian borderlands?

His heart crushed at the thought, choking off the very air from his lungs. “You saved my life. I owe you everything.” He could only muster up a whisper, his fingertips just clinging to hers as she pulled mostly away, as if to leave that moment and never return.

She held up the book of prayers and scripture. “You have revived my faith. That is a gift more precious than any I have ever been given. I will share this with my brother. He is young and remembers even less of the faith, but he is eager to know more.” Her voice caught, and for a moment they simply gazed at one another in the rosy light of dawn.

When she spoke again, it was in a whisper. “Please don’t return to this place or anywhere in Illyria.”

But at the same time, he’d realized the truth of what he felt. “I cannot leave you. Had I not arrived when I did last week to pull you from the pigs’ trough, what would have happened to you? That King Garren would even think of giving you as a bride to that brute Omar...” He wasn’t certain which man Omar was, but none of the high-ranking guards he’d met in Garren’s household would be anything like a fitting match for Evelyn. “How can I stay away without ever knowing if you are safe and cared for?”

“Please. If you return, your life will be in danger.”

“I don’t care.”

“Then you risk condemning me to marry Omar.”

Luke bowed his head. His hand still clung to hers, but he could feel her pulling away, slipping through his fingers far too soon. He prayed for God to make clear the path they should follow, but he could see nothing beyond the injustice he felt. “I will promise to stay away if you will grant me one request.”

“What is it?” She moved slightly closer as she looked up at him, trust in her eyes.

Long silence stretched between them as Luke contemplated asking her for a kiss. But deep in his heart, he knew that would only make their parting more difficult. Duty bound him to marry a royal. A prince’s bride needed to be a woman raised for the role, someone of exceptional skills, grace and connections. He would not shirk his duty or disrespect his future bride by romancing this slave. And yet he could not abandon the woman who’d saved his life.

Finally he found the clarity to put into words what he was thinking. “Meet with me one time more, here, in secret, in another week’s time. I will discuss the matter with my brother. He is wise. Perhaps he can see a solution where I can find none. My heart is too heavy to think clearly now.”

Evelyn looked up at him, her thoughts as transparent as if she had spoken them aloud. She didn’t want to risk meeting with him again. And yet she hadn’t protested. She hadn’t yet refused his request.

He had to make her see the wisdom of his offer. “If you will meet with me this one time more, I will stay away from then on. You need never worry about my safety, and I will pray always that you do not meet the fate King Garren has threatened you with.”

“I fear the dangers of letting you venture this close to Fier again.”

“If you will not agree to meet with me, I may be driven to climb the walls of Fier to find you. It would be far more dangerous.”

She stepped closer to him, shaking her head with remorse. “I am a fool if I agree, and yet—” she looked up at him “—I want so much to see you again, as well.”

“Evelyn.” He whispered her name, pulled her close. “You will meet with me then?”

“In one week’s time?” She studied his face as if for confirmation. “At this same place and this same hour? What if one of us is delayed?”

“Then we try again the next morning and the next.”

“It is too dangerous.”

“Then I climb the walls of Fier and find you.”

“No.”

“If I do not come before dawn, then return again at sunset. The darkness will hide us and keep us safe.” As they’d spoken, he’d pulled her tighter against him, memorizing all he could about her, tucking away the memory to warm him when they were apart. Finally he forced himself to take a step away. “Next week at this time.”

“I will do everything in my power to be here,” Evelyn promised. “You will stay far away until then?”

“I will do everything in my power.” He repeated her words, his promise equally sincere. “With prayers for your safety and well-being all the while.”

She pulled away from him then, with promises as well to pray, and whispered thanks again for the prayer book. When she was three steps away, she looked back, and he very nearly thought she might return to his arms or that he would pull her back to him. But he clenched his hands at his sides and resisted, and she moved swiftly away again, stepping silently through the trees, disappearing into the sunrise.

His prayers went with her—for safety, for a better life and most of all for God to see fit to unite them again.

Chapter Seven

E
velyn hurried back to the fortress, arriving in time to help Cook prepare breakfast. She flew through her chores, not minding even the stench of the pigs or her grandfather’s malicious shouts.

Prince Luke had given her a book of prayers.

The very thought of the tiny prayer book filled her heart with joy, overshadowing even the knowledge that she couldn’t see him again. She’d already known they could never be together. Indeed, she still wasn’t certain she could trust him, not when he’d used the gift of a bear’s pelt to soften up her grandfather before. Perhaps the gift of the prayer book was only meant to lower her defenses in light of some deception. Her grandfather had used just such a trick when he’d stolen back his signet ring.

No, Evelyn knew better than to trust the prince. In fact, she counted it a victory that he’d agreed to stay away. One more meeting wasn’t much to begrudge him. She’d simply have to be on her guard against her increasing affections toward him. The memory of his face and the words they’d shared warmed her heart too much already.

When her chores were finally ended for the day, Evelyn found her brother in the stables and whispered all she’d learned. Bertie seemed pleased by the prayer book but was otherwise distressed. His concerns overweighed all else.

“This is disastrous! I’d hoped he might be able to help us, but now we dare not ever talk to him again.” Bertie looked at her knowingly, and his eyes widened. “You can’t be thinking of seeing him again.”

Reluctantly, Evelyn admitted, “I did agree to meet with him just once more.”

“You can’t. Don’t you see? Our father killed his father. You know how retribution works. He’ll kill you for vengeance.”

“I don’t think he would. He has only ever been kind to me.”

“You are far too trusting, Evelyn. Of course he’s been kind. He doesn’t yet know the truth, and when he learns it, he’ll feel that much more betrayed by you. He may be plotting something already. How could you accept his gift without telling him whose daughter you really are? Deep in your heart you know he would kill you. You know it—that’s why you stayed silent.” Bertie’s volume increased as he pressed his point.

“He wouldn’t kill me.” Evelyn groaned, wishing the truth weren’t so complicated. “He knows you’re my brother.”

“I suppose you think he’d choose to kill me instead of you?”

“Don’t the rules of vengeance prefer the sons over the daughters?”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want him to kill either of us—but if I had my guess, I’d think he’d try to kill us both sooner than let either of us go free.”

Evelyn shuddered at the thought. “We’ve only one hope—to see to it that he never learns that Rab the Raider is our father. If the truth slips out, your life—” Her voice cracked.

“He’ll never get his hands on me.” Her brother pulled himself up to his full height, almost as tall as Evelyn, though she was many years’ growth ahead of him. “If it comes to that, I’ll take our treasures back from Grandfather and make my way back to Aachen, and I’ll take you with me to keep you safe.”

“Don’t go near Grandfather’s chambers. Do you know what he’d do if he knew what you were after?”

“Nothing worse than what your prince would do if he found out who we really are.” As his height had caught up with hers, Bertie had started treating her as though he were the older sibling. “We’re in trouble here and always have been, but you and I have come a long way together, and we’ll make it through this. Every day I learn something new. Shooting rabbits for our suppers, building fires, using the stars to guide our path. I’m training myself to get us home. Soon I’ll be strong enough to face any danger that lies between here and our homeland. You’ll see. I’ll take you home someday, where Grandfather and Omar can’t touch us.”

Evelyn wanted to tell her brother that she was proud of him, but her throat swelled with emotion, and suddenly she wasn’t so sure of her words. In all the years they’d been at Fier, especially since their father’s death, she’d wanted so much to return to her homeland. But her memories of the perilous journey were still too stark. There had been rivers to cross, wild animals to avoid, and strangers in the villages and the countryside who’d spoken in foreign tongues she didn’t understand. They’d been hungry and cold in spite of all their father had done to provide for them.

They’d made it safely to Illyria only because their father had protected them the whole way, and she now realized he may well have committed any number of crimes to do so. Without him and without any funds, she didn’t see how they could make it. During the long winter, travel was impossible, especially over the mountains. But Bertie was getting older, growing stronger. With summer approaching, now would be the best time to attempt the trek, though she feared they wouldn’t make it far before her grandfather’s men caught up to them.

“What’s the worst that can befall us?” Bertie asked softly. Before she could respond, he answered his own question. “Surely there are no dangers between here and our homeland worse than the risk of death at the hands of the Lydians or marriage to Omar.”

She nodded along reluctantly, not liking any of the options before them but nearly desperate enough to try anything. “Perchance we can, Bertie, but we’ll have to make preparations. We’ll need food for the journey, warm clothing, a horse—”

“Two horses,” her brother insisted.

“We don’t even have one,” she reminded him.

“Grandfather owes us. We work hard every day, and for what? We can take what we need.”

“He’ll only come after us,” Evelyn responded. “Just wait. We’ll have to be very careful.”

“But you’d come with me?” Bertie’s face glowed with hope.

Evelyn couldn’t refuse her little brother. “I certainly wouldn’t want you to make the journey all alone.”

* * *

Luke wanted to scream with the injustice of it all. It wasn’t fair that Evelyn should have to work in such harsh circumstances, doing the most dangerous and difficult jobs in King Garren’s fortress, when the woman was learned and intelligent, worthy of a much better life than what she’d been given. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t see her, even to ensure her safety and provide her with food and clothing and security for her family.

And it wasn’t fair the way the Illyrians disregarded the terms of the peace settlement. When Luke left his rendezvous with Evelyn, he made his way back to the stream and found the path the six mounted riders had taken during the night. He followed the hoofprints well into Lydian territory before he lost them in the thick leaves and undergrowth, far closer to Sardis than any Illyrians should ever have been.

They’d followed the path to where he’d lost the others and then veered east toward Sardis. He didn’t want them in his lands. Judging by their numbers, they boldly defied the terms of the peace treaty. Why?

Luke headed back to Castlehead on horseback at a full gallop, surprising John with his swift return. The brothers met in the king’s private council room, and Luke reported all he’d discovered.

“What do you believe we should do?” King John asked once he’d heard Luke’s full story, minus the details of his encounter with Evelyn. Luke held those back in light of the more pressing situation with the horsemen.

Luke had mulled the question thoroughly on his ride. A year before, he’d have asked for a band of men to sweep in, find the Illyrians and put a swift end to their plans. But much had changed since then. He wished to avoid fighting if he possibly could—even more so since Evelyn still lay beyond his reach and might be punished if King Garren was angered.

Luke knew his brother was concerned about Queen Gisela’s pregnancy. He wouldn’t upset either of them if he could help it.

“For now I think we should watch and wait. If I could find where the Illyrian trail picks up, I might be able to catch up to them and discover what they’re up to.”

King John nodded, his countenance indicating he approved of Luke’s plans. “I’ll assign you double the manpower at Millbridge. We won’t have a repeat of what happened last fall. Use your discretion in their assignments. I trust your judgment.”

It was a far greater stamp of approval than any King John had given him before, and Luke could only pray he was worthy of it. Were his thoughts clear, or had he let his concern for Evelyn sway his decision? “I pray I am worthy of your trust, Your Highness.” Luke bowed to his brother.

King John chuckled and shook his head. “Come, now, Luke, enough of this talk of horsemen and borders. My fair queen longs to know more of the Frankish woman you sought. Did you see her again?” The king led him down the hall to where Gisela sat, surrounded by her maids, each of them working with needle and thread on a dress draped over a reed dummy. The waistline of the garment, Luke noted, was greatly enlarged to accommodate the child Queen Gisela carried.

With fluttering fingers, the Queen shooed the ladies away, and Luke told Their Majesties of his encounter with Evelyn, getting only as far as her delight with the book when the queen stopped him to clarify.

“She can read?”

“I heard her. She recognized the Lord’s Prayer before I told her what it was. She had no way of knowing it unless she knew her letters well.” He’d pondered that mystery on his ride back to Castlehead. “She claims to hail from Aachen. Tell me, Queen Gisela, is it common for the women of that city to read?”

“I’ve been mostly in Rome for many years.” The queen looked puzzled. “Aachen was my childhood home, and we visited there often in summer. Indeed, that is where I learned to read, and my father encouraged many in that instruction. The young pick up the skill more quickly.” She blinked at her husband as if he might be able to contribute to her story.

King John scooped up his wife’s hand. “You seem perplexed, my darling. Don’t worry yourself. If the girl is literate, that can only be a good thing, yes?”

“Under most circumstances I would agree.” Queen Gisela hesitated. “But a female slave who can read? In Illyria? Knowing King Garren, I would be on my guard against some trickery.” She pointed the last words at Luke directly.

“I have considered this possibility strongly,” Luke acknowledged. “There may be some ruse at work.”

King John agreed. “Certainly Garren is up to something. Warrick is still our guest here. After your last visit, I took the time to ride with him toward Millbridge and discuss our borders. He expresses only regret at Rab the Raider’s activities. Warrick is determined to forge peace between our families.”

“Peace,” Luke repeated, hearing the longing in his voice.

“Yes, brother.” King John clapped a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “There’s nothing like a war to make us value peace.”

Having once begged his brother to let him take up arms, Luke heard the goading behind King John’s sentiment. “Sometimes we must fight for peace.”

The king scowled, but before he could speak, Queen Gisela gave a tiny yelp.

“What is it, my darling?” John turned his attention to his wife, who had one hand over her stomach and a look of focus on her face.

“The babe...” Gisela began, and John’s face went white.

But the queen continued. “The babe kicked me—I’m almost sure of it.”

King John’s face relaxed into a broad smile. “Well,” he said, beaming, “that is a lively one you carry. Perhaps you should lie down and rest.”

Luke watched his brother lead the queen off to her bed, the unborn child’s reminder prickling his heart. Peace was more important now than ever. What were the Illyrians doing on the Lydian side of the border? Who was Evelyn, truly? Could she help him learn more about the Illyrians’ movements? Or was she working for them, distracting him while the soldiers marched through his borders undeterred?

He had many questions to answer. One thing was certain. He must keep the threat of war far from Castlehead and the queen who carried Lydia’s future heir. Luke never wanted to be king. If anything happened to John before the babe was born, Luke would wear the crown. But the child Gisela carried could change all that, provided Gisela had a peaceful pregnancy, unlike that of King John’s first wife.

All the more reason why Luke had to keep Lydia safe.

* * *

Evelyn visited the rocky outcropping in the borderlands before sunrise on the appointed morning but waited until full daylight without seeing any sign of the prince. When she returned late to Fier, her grandfather flew into a rage and demanded Cook withhold all Evelyn’s meals that day.

Bertie sneaked a bread roll to her in the stables that evening. “The way Grandfather treats you is unacceptable. We must take off for Frankia while we still have our strength.”

Her stomach pained from hunger, Evelyn could only nibble the roll. Bertie had been young when their father had brought them south—too young to know or remember the perils of the journey. She had seen more of their father’s struggle and had felt the sharp fear of their vulnerability. “I’ve been reading the prayer book and praying over our situation,” she began, her thoughts clearer now than they’d been in the first few days after her meeting with the prince. “I’ve thought of something.”

“What is it?” Bertie prompted her when the roll seemed to stick in her tight throat, cutting off her words.

She forced herself to swallow. “Prince Luke offered to bring us to Lydia.”