Free The Unconventional Maiden by June Francis

retorted Beth.
    ‘That is because I do not want you wasting your time when you can be more gainfully occupied. You will marry shortly, so what is the point of writing if no one is to read it?’ Even as he spoke, Gawain wondered if Mary had any scribblings secreted away in her bedchamber that might provide a clue to her and the girls’ whereabouts.
    Beth’s brown eyes glinted. ‘Another woman might read them one day and it would give her an insight intohow a woman of my day lived. Unfortunately, most histories are written by men. Have you given any thought to your daughters’ education? I doubt it. Most men don’t.’
    He drew his breath in with a hiss. ‘You go too far, Mistress Llewellyn. Of course I have considered my daughters’ education. And if you had a pennyworth of sense you would accept that you could be mistaken at times. If you only thought like a man, then you would consider charming me into finding you an indulgent husband who will allow you to have your way in all things.’
    ‘I don’t believe it. Rather you would marry me off to a man like yourself, determined to force his will on me. A man who has no experience of printing or how to recognise a market for a news sheet and a different kind of book. A man who won’t heed aught I say to him,’ replied Beth fiercely.
    ‘Enough,’ warned Gawain. ‘You will go to your bedchamber and stay there until I give you permission to come downstairs again. It is possible that you will never enter a print room again!’
    Beth stared at him and her mouth quivered, then, without another word, she turned and ran towards the house.

Chapter Four
    B eth spent the next hour angrily filling one side of a sheet of her precious supply of paper with suggestions of what she would like to do to Sir Gawain. Eventually she put down her quill and stretched before going over to the bed and dropping onto it. She was hungry, but she was not going to go begging for food from him. She pillowed her head on her arms and thought of her father and Jonathan and tears oozed from beneath her eyelids. It seemed so much longer than three days since she had discovered her father’s body. If only she had not been drawn to the wrestling match, then she might have returned to the tent in time to prevent his murder, but her curiosity and love of writing had led her into trouble and turned her life upside down. Why did her father have to choose Sir Gawain, a man whom he scarcely knew, to be her guardian? Why had he had to bribe him by offering shares in his company?It was enough to tempt some men to commit murder; although Sir Gawain had said he didn’t need money, he was having to spend his own in the shipyard that had belonged to his father-in-law. What if he had bribed someone to kill her father, not knowing that the dagger would be recognised by her servant? No, he would not do that. Somehow she sensed he was not a man to get someone else to do dangerous acts. Nor did she really believe he had killed her father. No, she believed Jonathan and her father’s deaths were connected and she could not think why Sir Gawain would wish her half-brother dead.
    She yawned, realising how tired she was; maybe it was that which was causing her to allow her thoughts to run away with her. Her father had trusted Sir Gawain. Maybe she could trust him, as well? A vision of the knight half-naked swam into her consciousness and she was filled with an inexplicable longing. She hated herself for finding him so physically attractive when he had set his mind so firmly against that which she so wanted out of life.
    A sudden knock at the door caused her to start and she called, ‘Who is it?’
    ‘Gawain.’
    Her heart seemed to kick against her ribs and she rolled off the bed and smoothed down her gown. ‘May I ask what is it you want?’
    ‘I thought you might be hungry so I have brought you some food,’ came the reply.
    She was taken aback and wondered why he had not asked Jane or his aunt to bring it up.