The Unconventional Maiden Read Online Free Page A

quick.’
    ‘Of—of course,’ stammered Beth. ‘Perhaps it is on the ground!’ She dropped to her knees and Gawain hunkered down beside her. They bumped heads, both winced and hastily drew back.
    ‘Did I hurt you?’ asked Gawain, reaching forwards and straightening her headdress.
    ‘N-n-no!’ She felt breathless. ‘Did I hurt you?’
    He smiled grimly. ‘I have a hard head.’
    ‘You’d need to have with all the fighting you do,’ she said, without thinking.
    ‘My fighting days are mostly over,’ he muttered, getting to his feet.
    ‘It must be here somewhere,’ she said, continuing to search whilst wondering what he meant by his words.
    ‘I’ll have the servants make a thorough search.’ He held a hand out to her and pulled her to her feet.
    Beth saw him wince. ‘What is it? Are you hurt?’
    ‘It is nothing!’ He was not about to explain that he was suffering for his foolish behaviour in accepting the challenge to wrestle earlier. Why did he feel this need to prove his manhood just because Mary had been seenwith another man? Especially when he knew it could result in more than a few bruises and strained muscles? It was not the same sense of rightness and pride that had resulted in him resigning his position in Henry’s Gentlemen of the Spears, whose duty it was to look to the king’s safety on the field of battle, at court and on ceremonial occasions such as this one.
    ‘I don’t believe you,’ blurted Beth. ‘You are obviously in pain.’
    ‘It is nothing,’ he repeated through clenched teeth. ‘I will need to report your father’s murder to Cardinal Wolsey.’
    ‘No! Father—’ She paused to swallow the tightness in her throat. ‘He—he did not like Cardinal Wolsey,’ she added weakly. ‘Could you not investigate my father’s murder instead?’
    Gawain hesitated. ‘It wouldn’t be right. I could be a suspect.’
    ‘Why should you be?’ She was aware of a sense of unreality and felt sick, then added faintly, ‘I cannot believe this is all happening. It is as if I was taking part in a masque.’
    ‘You’re not about to swoon, are you?’ he asked, taking her arm and lowering her on to the stool, praying that she would soon recover her composure. ‘Come, you showed such strength earlier,’ he said encouragingly. ‘I did not mean that I really was a suspect. You can trust me.’
    ‘Then why say what you did? You might as well say I could be a suspect, too. I have much to gain by my father’s death,’ said Beth, shivering.
    He realised that what she said was true, but surely she would not have killed her own father? There came the sound of voices outside the tent. ‘Go into your sleeping quarters and remain silent,’ he hissed. ‘I’d rather you left this to me.’
    Beth hesitated, but then, still suffering from that sense of unreality, she decided she had to trust him and wasted no time in doing as he bid. She gathered together the clothes she had worn earlier and stuffed them inside her pallet of straw and lay down. She could hear the murmur of voices, but could not make out the words. She wished she could leave this tent now and never return. Yet somewhere outside lurked her father’s killer.
    Beth did not know how long she lay on her pallet, waiting for Sir Gawain to call her. It seemed an age before the voices trailed off and she heard him call her name. Then she rose and went out to him and saw that her father’s body had been removed. ‘Where have they taken him?’ she asked.
    ‘To the village church until he can buried in the morning,’ said Gawain.
    ‘So soon,’ murmured Beth. Yet she understood that it was the only sensible action to take in such heat. ‘I—I will go there later and speak to the priest about having masses said for his soul.’
    ‘If that is what you wish, but in the meantime I must inform Wolsey what has happened.’ Gawain’s voice brooked no argument. ‘He organised this whole event.He would think there was something amiss if I