Read The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery) for Free Online Page B

Meilyr’s voice remained casual, denying the intensity of his expression.
    Gareth warred with himself as to whether or not to tell Meilyr the truth. If Meilyr was going to give his approval, Gareth preferred he gave it to him because he trusted him, instead of being blinded by an obsession with rank. Still, if he was to have any chance with Gwen, it was better if Meilyr heard it from him.
    “I am a knight.”
    Meilyr grunted. “Are you now?”
    “I understood it to be the requirement,” Gareth said.
    “Left it a bit late.”
    “Is she betrothed?” Gareth’s gut roiled. Gwen hadn’t said as much to him but she might not, given how awkward that conversation could become.
    Meilyr laughed, but the sound came out more sour than humorous. “Could have been. Just last month I had someone asking for her. Wasn’t thinking of you, of course, but I couldn’t let her go to just anyone, especially not a spoiled child-man like him.”
    Gareth’s heart settled a bit. He still had time. “With your permission, I’d like to speak of this further. For now, I’m afraid I’ve work to do.” He gestured towards the stables where Braith waited. “Aber isn’t getting any closer and King Owain won’t like to have been kept waiting.”
    “Owain Gwynedd doesn’t like anything that he doesn’t control or foresee,” Meilyr said. “How did you end up under his wing?”
    “I’m not under his, but Hywel’s,” Gareth said.
    Meilyr grunted again, acknowledging the difference.
    “Though it was King Owain’s eldest son, Rhun, who knighted me, and that raised my standing in the King’s eyes,” Gareth said.
    “King Owain knows of your troubled history with his brother, Cadwaladr?”
    “He knows,” Gareth said.
    For the second time that day, he’d had a civil conversation with Meilyr. With that, Gareth hadn’t wanted to tempt his luck any further, not after the traumatic events of the day, and retreated to the stables.
    “What did your father say to you?” Gareth said. “When you demanded to come with me , that is.” He smiled because he had no doubt that’s exactly what Gwen had done.
    Gwen didn’t rise to the bait. “He accepted it, and since the kitchens at Caerhun would be there to prepare his breakfast in the morning, he could dispense with me. He didn’t want to give me his horse, necessarily, but in the end he gave way. What payment did you promise Madog to get him to loan my father a better one?”
    “Gwen—”
    “Don’t try to deny it. I know how these things work.” Gwen matched him smile for smile, as if to indicate that she was comfortable with these kinds of machinations and her own perceived value. He wasn’t fooled.
    “Your father loves you,” he said.
    “Does he?” Gwen said. “Fathers are supposed to love their daughters, but … Would he miss me if he awoke one morning and I was gone forever?”
    “He loves you enough not to give you to just anyone,” Gareth said, and then bit his tongue because of what that statement gave away.
    Gwen glared at him. “He told you about Rhys?”
    “Not his name,” Gareth said. “But the circumstances.”
    “I’ve had enough of my father’s opinions,” she said. “Don’t make me dislike yours as well.”
    “I know it’s been hard—”
    Gwen cut him off. “I’ve not wasted all these years mourning your absence,” she said. “I’d hoped we’d have three children by now, and be living on a bit of land somewhere by the sea.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t meant to be. I can accept that we can’t always live the life we imagined.”
    “I’ve paid for my choices, Gwen,” Gareth said. “I’d prefer not to have to keep paying.”
    Gareth felt Gwen’s eyes on him, but didn’t know if he should say anything more as she didn’t. Cadwaladr had dismissed him the same day he’d intended to ask Meilyr for Gwen’s hand. She’d been only sixteen, he twenty-three and far more sure of himself than he should have been. Cadwaladr had been right