not be performing at the lists or wrestling with my disability. I have a wife to tell me that,’ he added harshly.
‘Is that the real reason why she is not here?’ asked Beth. ‘Because of your male pride being hurt? That is foolish.’
He handed a cup of wine to her. ‘How well you understand me, Mistress Llewellyn,’ he said sardonically.
‘By St George, you took a risk,’ she said, taking a sip of wine.
Their eyes met. ‘You would say that pride comes before a fall, but I say a man needs his pride,’ said Gawain.
‘He could have flattened you,’ said Beth. ‘But I admit I found it admirable that you were able to throw that Breton wrestler.’
He shrugged and winced, determined not to show the pleasure her remark gave him. ‘Shall we change the subject?’
She nodded, curious to know more about him. ‘Tell me about your wife. Have you children?’
Gawain gazed into her attractive little face that was alight with interest. He imagined how her expression would change if he told the truth—that Mary had deserted him, taking their daughters with her. It would perhaps give Beth more reason to be against marriage. Of course, he could have told her how he had spent weeks searching for them, believing that his wife’s wits were deranged after the loss of their son, fearing for the girls’ safety and that of their mother. This had been after Mary’s father’s death when Gawain had taken on new responsibilities. Then he had struck lucky or so he had thought, only to discover that Mary had made a cuckold of him and when he had rode to the place where she had been observed, it was too late. She had vanished again. Then the king had summoned him to court and he’d had no choice but to abandon his search.
‘I have two daughters: Lydia, who has seen seven summers, and Tabitha, who is three years old.’ He found it too painful still to mention the loss of his son to her, but added swiftly, ‘More recently I’ve been sorting out my father-in-law’s affairs. He died a year ago and left it to me to rescue his ailing boat-building yard. I have hopes that in a few years it will be prosperous again.’
Beth frowned. ‘You have enough matters of your own to sort out as it is without being bothered with mine. Why do you not allow me to handle my own affairs?’
Gawain was tempted to agree, but found himself saying, ‘I made a promise to your father that I would find you a husband. His dearest wish was that you provided him with a grandson.’
‘A grandson!’ This was news, indeed, to Beth and it angered and hurt her further. ‘A daughter was not good enough for him,’ she added in a trembling voice. ‘Only a male offspring will do.’
Gawain paused in the act of setting the table. ‘You must forgive him. It is natural for a man to want a son to carry on his name. No doubt your father had it in mind for you to marry someone who understood the printing- and book-selling business, but perhaps it would be wiser to sell it, so as to provide you with a substantial dowry to attract a gentleman so you would not be forever thinking of printing and books.’
‘No! It cannot be sold,’ she cried, starting to her feet and spilling a little wine on her gown. ‘If I have a son, then he will inherit and carry on with my work.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Gawain, frowning. ‘What work is this? Tell me?’
Encouraged and filled with an overwhelming need to share her secret, Beth said, ‘I know how to set type and to work the presses, and I have continued with the work Jonathan began. I write and print a newsletter and it is distributed in London and I am determined to carry on doing so.’
His eyes flared. ‘By St George, I believe you are serious!’
‘Indeed, I am!’ Her face was alight with enthusiasm. ‘I write about matters that I know will interest those who have learnt to read since their parents’ generation grasped the first books that came off Master Caxton’s presses here in England. They are eager for the written word and they desire more than just the gospels and stories of the saints. They enjoy the old tales from classical history such as Aesop’s Fables, but they also want to be kept informed about what is happening today.’
‘Are you saying that the printing and distribution of Holy Writ in our own tongue does not interest you?’ he asked, his dark brows knitting.
‘No, of course not,’ she said, flushing. ‘I am saying that the printed word has the power to do more than bring religious enlightenment to those who wish to read the gospels for themselves. It can educate, entertain and amuse on several topics.’
‘I agree that there is much enjoyment to be found in such as Homer’s Illiad, but the printed word can also be dangerous, as you well know. It can preach sedition and moral laxity,’ he said drily.
‘That is not my intention,’ she said hastily. ‘I sincerely believe there are many people who are eager to know what is happening in other countries. They are interested in the great occasions such as this one taking place here. They would also enjoy reading of the wonders of the Indies and the New World by those who have visited these lands.’
‘I would not deny the truth of what you say, but those accounts will be written by explorers and no doubt printed by men. I would be doing you a disfavour if I allowed you to hold out any hope of continuing with this newsletter of yours, Mistress Llewellyn,’ said Gawain, marvelling at the enthusiasm that gleamed in her lovely eyes. If only she would look at him in such a manner! He quashed the thought. ‘Obviously your father would have disapproved and that is why you kept it a secret.’
Deeply disappointed in him, she said, ‘Aye, because he thought, like you, that men can do most things better than a woman. We must be kept in our place under a man’s heel, to keep house, to be faithful and do what a man says and to bear him sons. Daughters do not matter. I pity your wife, because no doubt you do not appreciate your girls but long for her to give you a son!’
The anger he had suppressed for so long exploded and he seized hold of her. ‘I deem you have said enough, Mistress Llewellyn,’ he said in a dangerously low voice. ‘You have no idea of what is between my wife and myself. I, like many men, believe it is our God-given role to cherish and protect our women and children, whatever their sex. You would spread falsehoods and discontent if what you say is an example of your writing. I would be doing your readers a favour by taking your newsletter out of circulation.’
‘I will not be silenced,’ she said, glaring at him.
‘Will you not?’ he said harshly and pressed a fierce kiss on her lips.
A stunned Beth could do no more than remain still in his embrace, but her heart raced and her knees had turned to water.
He released her abruptly, furious with himself and her.
‘You should not have done that,’ she gasped, putting a hand to her tingling lips.
‘No, I should not,’ admitted Gawain hoarsely, turning his back on her and breathing deeply. ‘But you would cause a priest to forget his vows. Your father held you in high esteem as a housekeeper and spoke fondly of you. He wanted you safely married and that will be my aim. I must ask you to forgive me for losing my temper and I assure you that it will not happen again.’
‘I—I should think not! What would your wife say?’ cried Beth.
‘Shall we keep my wife out of this?’ he said, clenching his fist.
Her eyes fixed on his whitened knuckles and she knew that she had touched him on the raw. ‘I will not mention her again,’ she said stiffly. ‘Although if we were to meet in England—’
‘You would tell her?’ His expression was grim. ‘It is possible she would not believe you.’
There was a long silence as they stared at each other. Then he reached for a knife. She shrank back and he swore beneath his breath and began to slice a loaf. ‘Eat, Mistress Llewellyn, you need to keep up your strength if you are to survive the difficulties