My Noble Knight (31 page)

Thunder cracked above her, rocking the ground below her feet.

But this was his field as much as it was the knights’ field. This was where the quintain belonged.

Just like her.

She reached out and ran her hand against the wet wood. She may not be a knight, but she belonged here as much as they did. She squared her shoulders.

“Layne?”

She whirled to find Griffin standing behind her. She wiped the rain from her eyes. He looked like a soggy dog. His blonde hair hung at either side of his face, his eyes narrowed against the deluge.

“I didn’t cut your reins,” she insisted, having to raise her voice against the rain.

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t treat me like a criminal.” She lifted her chin. “I deserve more respect. I’ve put up with a lot from you. From my brothers.” She swept her arm around, encompassing the rest of the field. “From all the knights.”

“I know.”

She stepped forward to poke him in the chest. “I don’t care what Frances says. I do a lot for my family. I take care of them. I protect them and I make sure they are all safe. And sometimes that’s not so easy. I am part of the family whether he likes it or not. Because I love every one of them! And I would do anything for them.”

“I know.”

“And I should be able to sword fight and joust and do anything I want with weapons. Maybe not on the field of honor, but in practice and I should be able to brush Adonis and clean your weapons and --”

Griffin grabbed her and pulled her close to him, covering her mouth with his.

At first she resisted, but then Layne melted against his strength, letting the fight drift away. She wrapped her arms around his body, his strength, and held tight. He brushed his lips against hers, coaxing them open, and thrust his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. His kiss was gentle and tender and demanding. Everything that was Griffin.

He showered kisses on her lips, down her throat. “You’re right,” he said between each touch of his lips. “You should be allowed to be yourself. You are magnificent.”

Shocked, she pulled back to look into his eyes. “You’re embarrassed of me.”

He took her head between his hands. “I’m a dolt to even think that I was embarrassed of you. You are exceptional. The rarest of beauties in spirit and in mind. If I was embarrassed, it was because I couldn’t match up to your enthusiasm. You are a treasure. I’ve missed you so, Layne.”

For a moment, Layne thought she was dreaming. How could he think she was anything but ordinary? She cocked her head at him and looked at him doubtfully. “Have you been drinking?”

He chuckled warmly. “Nay.”

The rain suddenly lessened and the clouds parted to let the moon’s light to shine down on them.

Griffin wiped the rain from her cheeks and her forehead and pushed her hair from her face. "I'm sorry for ever doubting you. I know you would never do something dishonorable. I think I've known that from the beginning. Can you ever forgive me?”

Every caress, every touch made her tingle with life and happiness. "Well...”

"I thought of you as a threat to all that I am. To my winning the tournaments, to my family. But in reality, you have only been a blessing to me. At every turn, you have proved yourself. And you have proved me wrong.” He kissed her lips tenderly. "You are my strength.”

Joy bubbled from Layne’s lips.

"I love you, Layne,” Griffin whispered showering her with kisses.

Layne pressed her lips to his. She wasn't sure that this wasn't a dream, but she was sure she never wanted to awaken, if it was. Sudden need and desire flamed inside her and she pulled him tight against her. Their clothing was wet and it was almost like there was nothing between them. He was hot and strong and sheltering. His kiss sent waves of excitement crashing through her. His hands traced her arms, over her hips. Lord, she wanted more.

Griffin stepped back.

A soft groan of protest escaped her lips.

His eyes moved over her face, devouring ever curve. "When I make you mine, it will not be on the field of honor.” He grinned at her. "You are soaked through to the bone. We should find you warm clothing before you catch your death of cold.”

She blinked, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events. Griffin put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him as they turned toward the tents.

F
rances stared down the field
at Talvace. He had defeated the knight before, but felt distracted this time. He had trouble getting Sprite to settle down. Maybe the horse was feeling his anxiety. He had to win.

He looked down at Michael who handed his lance up to him.

Sprite still stepped backward and Frances had to kick him extra hard to get him to start down the lists toward Talvace. Maybe the horse felt as he did? Too much riding on his shoulders.

Frances leaned forward, couching the lance beneath his arm. He stared hard at Talvace, trying desperately to focus. It was no good. He didn’t have a good grip or a good angle. At the last moment, he swerved his horse slightly, throwing his lance aside. He passed Talvace, who lifted his lance and rode past him. It wasn’t unusual for a knight to give way. And it was customary for the opponent to lift his lance, too. Talvace was a tough opponent, but he did play by the rules. Yes, he did play by the rules. Unlike you, a voice inside him said. He didn’t need to cheat to win, did he?

Frances wasn’t sure if he could concentrate enough. He came around the field to his side where Michael greeted him with a worried frown. He looked at Talvace across the field. He had won against him before. I can do it again, he told himself. He took the lance from Michael. He could do this. He spurred his horse and lowered the lance. He could unhorse Talvace. He just needed to focus and put the lance tip right beneath his opponent’s left shoulder. The force would whirl him from his horse like it had before. Just beneath the left shoulder.

Finally, Sprite moved forward in a steady beat.

Frances pointed the lance and steadied it for a direct hit.

Griffin watched Frances ride from the field. His shoulders were slumped, his head hung. That was not at all the way a victor should be riding. What had gotten into him? He had unhorsed Talvace with a solid strike, yet he was leaving the field as if he had lost.

“Ah, Griffin.”

Griffin turned away from the field to see Richard approaching him. Over his shoulder, he saw Jacquelyn speaking to lord Tinley. She had her hand on his arm and was leaning into him with a lowered seductive look Griffin recognized immediately. He frowned. He didn’t want a marriage like theirs. Both of them were unhappy in so many different ways.

Richard placed an arm about his shoulders and led him away from the berfrois, away from the crowd. “You are to joust against me and then I will joust against Fletcher.”

Griffin chortled. “You have that wrong. The victor, which will be me, shall joust Fletcher.” In reality, Griffin was surprised Richard had made it this far.

“We shall see.” He slapped him on the back and stopped to look at him. “Like old times, eh?”

Griffin nodded. He was excited about jousting against his brother; it was something they hadn’t done for a long time. He had no doubt he would win, and the thought of knocking Richard on his overconfident arse to claim victory was even more appealing.

“I heard you spoke with Father.”

“Spying on me?” Griffin wondered.

Richard cocked a one-sided smile. “I have spies all over. I know everything that goes on in our family. I know much more than you think.”

Griffin looked at him. Was he that shrewd or did he really know everything?

“Father is ailing. He is not the man he once was.”

“Perhaps not.”

“His primary concern is the family and protecting the castle.”

Griffin agreed with a nod. “And those are proper concerns, don’t you think?”

Richard stared hard at him, that grin of his locked in place. “He told you about the perfume from France.”

“Aye,” Griffin said.

Richard rolled his eyes. “You know how Jacquelyn is. She wants what she wants. And she’s very good at getting it.”

“Maybe too good.” The rivalry between them raised its ugly head and Griffin felt the stirrings of resentment. “Is it true, Richard? You’d rather be jousting than lord of the castle?”

Richard smiled and purposely ignored the question. “Our bet is still on.”

Griffin frowned.

“Surely, you remember, Griffin. The bet we made two years ago before you ran off to play in the jousts?”

“Of course.” He remembered the bet. He remembered it very vividly. They had made it right before he left the castle, right after Richard begged and pleaded with him not to go. But at the time, he had to leave. His brother’s betrayal had struck him deeply. He had to escape from Father, Jacquelyn and especially from his own brother. He had to get away from all of them. Griffin agreed to the bet so he could be away from Richard. The emotional cut was nothing more than an old wound now; the scar would always be there, but the pain had faded. Regardless of that, the bet had been made and he would honor it.

“I do have to say that when we first made it, I didn’t think it would last this long.”

“I thought that was why you decided to host this tournament. To see if you couldn’t help the others beat me.”

Richard shrugged. "Truth be told, it was father’s idea to host the tournament. I was more than happy to oblige him.”

Tremors of apprehension snaked through Griffin. "Father’s idea?”

Richard shrugged. "I wasn't going to argue with him. I was quite surprised, too. But who am I to argue?”

Who indeed? Was Richard better then he was letting on? Was that the reason Father wanted him to host the tournament? Or was it simply a chance to speak with him again?

“Be prepared, brother. I grow weary of being lord. When you lose, you take my place.”

“
If
I lose, was the bet we made.”

“
If
and
when
,” Richard agreed.

Layne ducked into the tent to find Carlton buckling on Griffin’s vambrace. Griffin held his arm out for Carlton. He was almost totally covered in plate armor except for his head.

She stopped when she entered and grinned as her gaze swept over him. He was splendid, strong and gloriously to behold. She would never grow tired of looking at him. Her gaze slid to his face. His blonde hair was pulled back and tied with a leather strip. His blue eyes bore into her and a grin twitched the corners of his lips.

When Carlton finished with his arms, Griffin said, “Carlton, go prepare Adonis. Layne will finish with my armor.”

Layne’s mouth dropped in her joy as she actually inhaled with excitement.

Carlton nodded and left the tent.

Layne moved over to where Carlton had the remaining pieces laid out. He had done a marvelous job of caring for them and keeping them clean.

“When you are ready,” Griffin said, laughter and sarcasm in his voice. “An entire field of spectators is waiting.”

Layne quickly picked up one of Griffin’s gauntlets. She held it out for him so he could slip his hand inside. She pulled it up so it was nice and snug on his hand. When she looked up, he was gazing at her with an intense, heated stare that sent a thrill through her body.