My Noble Knight (17 page)

Griffin nodded. “That’s what they’ll find out when they test it.”

Three nobles dressed in black robes appeared from beside the grandstand and walked toward the squire, across the field. The poor young man looked at Talvace and then at the nobles in indecision.

Griffin kept his hand firmly on Layne’s arm. He didn’t want any reason for this victory to be upheld.

Two of the nobles took the lance from the squire.

Talvace didn’t look so smug anymore. And Osmont had stopped his celebration. But why would he do it? It was an even match. Talvace had every chance of beating Colin fairly. Griffin’s gaze settled on Osmont and his eyes narrowed. He had a suspicion why.

Carlton walked over to Colin as Frances was helping him sit up. Colin held his hand to his side, but he appeared to be all right. They glanced at Carlton who spoke and then looked down the field at the black robed nobles near Talvace’s squire.

A tall thin noble straightened as his two companions held the lance. Griffin knew him as Lord Bartlett. He was one of the judges for the Norfolk Tournament. He pointed to Talvace. “Disqualified!” he proclaimed. “Sir Colin is the winner!”

Layne didn’t rejoice. She scowled. “They did that to hurt him.”

Griffin shook his head. “Not him. You.”

Layne glanced at him in surprise.

“I’m sure Osmont is behind this,” Griffin said, staring across the field at the dark haired knight who was speaking with Talvace. “Punishing your brothers for what you did.”

The final joust of the Norfolk Tournament was scheduled for later that day. But before that closing event, there was still another joust that had to take place; the winner of that match would be the man who would joust against Griffin. It was between Colin and Sir Geoffrey Williams. Layne sat in a corner of the tent, pulling a thread through a tear in Carlton’s breeches to stitch it up. She sat in the far corner, facing the tent entrance. Her knees were bent and she concentrated on the stitching. She pulled the needle through the fabric.

They had given Colin a reprieve of a few hours to tend his injury. It wasn't bad. He had only been bruised. Layne scowled, poking the needle through the fabric. It shouldn't have happened. He should have faced Talvace in a fair competition. Why would they want to injure him? Because of her. Her scowl grew. Colin had to win. But even as she thought this, doubt festered in her mind. What if his bruise hindered his performance?

She pulled the needle through the fabric, but it caught. She tugged at it and the thread snapped off the needle.

What if Colin lost? She sighed and bent her head to her knees? Only in privacy could she admit her fears. His chances of winning at the upcoming Woodstock tourney would be even less than here at Norfolk. It was a larger purse and many more knights would participate.

“Layne?”

She lifted her head to see Griffin entering the tent. His entire form took up the space in the opening. His blonde hair hung in waves to his shoulders. The sunlight shining in from behind him accentuated his strong arms, casting a golden hue over his shoulders. Her breathing hitched unexpectedly.

“Carlton told me you wanted to wash clothing. He is busy with my armor. I will escort you to the stream.”

Layne nodded. She tied off the string with a knot, folded the breeches and put them in the dirty pile. She lifted the clothes into her arms.

Griffin did not move as she approached. “Is your head bothering you?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s healing. Tender to the touch, but all right.”

Griffin’s gaze swept her face. “Then what is it? What troubles you?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Was she that transparent to him? “I...” She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him how important it was for them to win. She sighed softly and looked down. He was well off. He did not lack for weapons or a fine horse. Just another thing that separated them. He wouldn’t understand. “No. I’m fine.”

For a long moment, he stood before her, gazing at her. She couldn’t meet his stare. Finally, he stepped aside and she walked out of the tent, moving down the slight rise toward the stream. She heard his footsteps as he followed. She ducked beneath a branch and entered the forest.

He caught up with her then. “You are worried about your brother.”

Layne shrugged. “Of course. After the last joust, can you blame me?”

He shook his head.

“And for you. Carlton is checking your equipment?”

Griffin lifted his head to the forest ceiling where branches merged above their heads. “He is, but you should not concern yourself with that.”

“How can I not?”

He turned his piercing gaze to her.

She stopped and faced him, pushing the clothing down so she could speak. “I have to worry about it. I have to worry about you. Someone does.”

He took the clothing from her arms. “I have no need for someone to worry about me.” He continued through the forest.

Layne hurried after him, surprised that he had taken the clothing and now carried them for her. “Everyone should have someone to worry about them. What about your sister?”

He laughed, his rolling deep chuckle edged with bitterness. “She is too worried about fashion and her next new dress.”

Pity twisted inside of her. She had her brothers and they all worried for each other. She couldn’t imagine not having someone to be concerned about her. She nodded and lifted her chin. “Then I will worry about you.”

He glanced back at her.

She smiled at him.

“And if I don’t want you to worry about me?”

“I’m afraid you can’t stop me.”

He stopped and she almost bumped into him, but brought herself up short. “No one has been concerned for my welfare since I was a child. My father was too busy tending to the castle and lands. My brother had more concern for his sword than he did for me. No. I am the only one who looks out for myself.”

Layne’s gaze swept him. “Not anymore.” She raced past him and dashed to the stream. “I won.”

“I didn’t know we were racing.”

“It’s always a competition between my brothers and I. For just about everything we do.”

“Is that why you feel the need to sword fight and joust?” He set the clothing on the ground.

Layne considered his words. “My father liked to sword fight and joust. I suppose I thought if I liked it, that would bring us closer.”

“Did it?”

Layne knelt at the shore and picked up a shirt. “No.” She dunked the clothing beneath the water. “He was much of the same mindset as you are. It is a man’s game with no place for a woman.” She could feel Griffin scrutinizing her. She felt she was on display. This was something she didn’t want Griffin to see, a longing inside of her that she wanted kept private. “It really didn’t matter what I did. My father was more interested in my brothers than me.”

“Where is he now?”

“Edinfield Manor awaiting our return.” She took the soap and scrubbed the tunic. Then she dunked it into the water. “We will return after the Woodstock Tourney.” She froze and glanced at him. “Well, at least my brothers will.”

“They will not have enough coin to pay me.”

Layne looked down at the tunic in her hands. Griffin’s tunic. “Not if they don’t win a tournament. And even then, they might not.” She wanted Colin to buy the farm for their family, not pay for her release. She closed her eyes. She had really messed things up. “You might be stuck with me longer than you think.”

“You think that is a punishment for me?”

His words caught her off guard. “I think I am a chore for you. I think I distract you. I think --”

He knelt beside her and put a finger to her lips. “You think too much.” He brushed a lock of her hair back from her cheek. “You are a pleasant surprise for me. I was not expecting you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

His gaze swept her face, tenderly, a warm smile on his lips. “Good. You are like a breath of fresh air when the world had gone sour.”

His words shocked her and her blood began to simmer with the promise of those words. Slowly, doubt clouded her mind and a scowl etched into her forehead. She turned from him to continue washing. “Then why would you try to change me?”

“I don’t want to change you,” he said softly, his voice velvet and gentle. “I did in the beginning. I wanted you to be like other women.”

Layne scrubbed the fabric harder with the soap, her heart dropping. Just like her father. Just like her aunt. They had always wanted her to fit the mold of a lady, to be like the other young ladies. But she never could.

“Only now do I realize what a mistake that is.”

Surprised, she snapped her gaze to him. Confused, she could only stare. She must have misheard him. He couldn’t have said those words. Because she wanted him to say them. With all her heart, with all her being, she wanted him to say those words. She wanted him to love her just like she was. Love her? She froze, stunned by the thought.

“You are a wonder. You can see mistakes that most men would miss. In style, in weapons. In people. And you caught the sabotage. Even Carlton missed that.”

Was she dreaming? Was Griffin actually complimenting her on her jousting and weapons skills? Her mouth dropped slightly.

He sat back, leaning on his arms. “You must think I am mad. I think I’m mad. And don’t think this lets you off the hook. I still think you are in danger. From Osmont. From whoever is trying to sabotage me. I won’t allow you to place yourself into any more danger.”

Layne’s heart pounded in her chest. It was the closest thing to concern he had ever expressed to her. “Do you mean it? Truly mean it?”

"Do I mean you will stay out of danger? Absolutely!”

Layne rolled her eyes. "No. Not that.”

Griffin’s smile was relaxed and gentle and full of warmth. “I mean that you are perfect the way you are. Except, I would see you in a dress now and then.”

She smiled. “If the occasion arises, I promise I will don a dress.”

He gently laid his hand on her cheek. “You shouldn’t worry what others think and say.”

“I don’t,” she agreed. His palm was hot against her skin and she couldn’t help staring at his lips. “Only what you think and say.”

His eyes glinted in happiness and he eased her head toward his lips, running his tongue across her top lip before entering her mouth hungrily. Tingles danced through her body. She would never grow tired of feeling his lips on hers, of having him kiss her. She reached around behind him, wrapping her hands behind the nape of his neck.

He braced himself with one arm and pulled her close with the other, curving his arm around her waist.

She angled her head to give him better access to her mouth. He tasted of warm ale, heady duck and a tinge of honey. There was a tenderness that belied his strength. He pulled her closer, more demanding, holding her tighter as if he was afraid to let her go. Her senses reeled as the kiss deepened. She clutched his shoulders.

“Ooooh! I’m telling.”

The voice was like a douse of cold water. Layne pushed herself from Griffin, her face coloring.

Michael stood near a tree between the tent and them.

“Michael!” Layne exclaimed, rising.

“You were kissing him,” Michael sang in sing-song fashion and turned to rush back to the tent. “I’m telling Colin.”

“Michael.” Griffin’s voice demanded obedience. “Come here, boy.”

Michael froze and then slowly, obediently, turned and approached him with his head down.

“Look at me.”

Michael lifted his gaze and there was a furious scowl on his brow.

“Do you have something to say to me?” Griffin demanded.

“You shouldn’t be kissing my sister unless you intend to marry her,” Michael stated.

As embarrassed as Layne was, she had to admire Michael’s bravery. Even after he was injured, he still had the demeanor of a great man.

“You are correct,” Griffin said.

Michael’s eyes widened. “You’re going to marry Layne?”

“Perchance,” Griffin said.

This caught Layne off guard. They had never said anything about marriage. But she couldn’t help the strange flutter that settled in her stomach at the thought of marrying Griffin.

“Then you shouldn’t be kissing my sister until you are certain.”

Griffin nodded in agreement. “You are correct. I am very fond of Layne.” He glanced at her and a gentle smile came to his lips. “Very fond.”

Joy ignited inside Layne. Joy and something else. She wanted to kiss him, to hold him, to touch him.

“But there are things that Layne and I have to work out privately. The jousts must come first.” He put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “As a young squire, you know that.”

Michael scowled again and kicked at a pebble on the ground. “Maybe.”

“This matter will remain a secret. You will not tell Colin. Yet.”

“But he should know.”

“And I will tell him when the moment is right.” Griffin gently shook Michael’s shoulder. “Agreed?”

Michael nodded. “Agreed.”

“Man to man.”

Michael nodded again, a lock of his brown hair falling into his eyes. “Man to man.”

“Good boy.” Griffin ruffled his hair. He glanced at Layne.

She was shocked that Michael had agreed to keep the incident from Colin. But she was again amazed at the way Griffin had handled her brother, amazed and proud.