My Noble Knight (6 page)

The last rays of the sun were fading from the sky when Layne finished washing the clothing and began to carry them back to the tent. Carlton advised her to go around the tents of the other knights to avoid any unwanted confrontation. She silently agreed. She knew the other knights were not pleased with what she had done.

The path around the tents led her close to the field of honor. She heard a smash of wood against wood and wondered if Griffin was still practicing. Layne glanced at the field and saw one rider. As night took over the sky, she saw he wore no armor. His horse thundered toward the quintain, the long lance pointed straight toward the wooden structure. His form was perfect, his concentration fierce. Tingles danced across the nape of her neck and she took a step closer, hugging the wet clothing to her chest.

The lance struck the quintain and it spun. For a moment, she thought it was going to strike Griffin, but he ducked and rode past. She found herself grinning. He was spectacular. The ease at which he moved made it look easy. He lifted the lance and reined his white stallion into a canter.

He threw the lance down as he maneuvered his horse around the field. Griffin and Adonis moved together as one. They were elegant and wonderful to watch. But then Griffin did something she had never seen anyone do before on such a big horse. He dropped the reins and sat up straight, crossing his arms over his chest. What was he doing? Surely without control of the horse, Adonis would balk or refuse his commands or simply stop. But to her amazement Adonis continued his canter around the field, taking the turns as if Griffin still held the reins in his hands. It took Layne a moment to realize Griffin was controlling Adonis with subtle movements of his legs and knees.

Astonished, Layne could only stare. He truly was amazing and very skilled. Much more so than she was. And yet, she had beaten him. How had that happened? She wasn’t that good. It had been her first time jousting! It shouldn't have happened. She thought back to the joust and his ‘flaw’. She had seen him list to the side. What could have caused that? He wasn’t doing it now. Had Adonis stumbled?

“He’s a great knight,” Carlton said from beside her.

Layne could only nod. He was marvelous. It was like watching living art. His blonde hair waved behind him like a small flag. He moved in smooth cadence with Adonis, each gentle movement a rhythm of elegance and power. He was magnificent.

Griffin stopped and dismounted, throwing a leg over the side and sliding to the ground. He picked up the lance and shoved it into the ground so it stood upright. Then, he swung himself up into the saddle easily. He grabbed the lance. Neither horse nor rider seemed to have any flaws now. Was it only something you could see when you faced him? Something no one else had seen except her?

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and chills raced down her arms. She had observed many jousts, but there was something about this… Something that didn’t seem right.

“Let’s go. We still need to set up your sleeping mat.” Carlton walked up the slight rise toward the tent.

Layne glanced at Griffin again. Warmth flooded through her. He was such a valiant sight. She reluctantly turned away from him and followed Carlton, holding the clothing to her chest. “His form is…very good,” Layne said hesitantly.

“His form is faultless,” Carlton countered. “Sir Griffin perfected it a long time ago and he practices it for hours a day.”

“His control over Adonis is amazing.”

Carlton nodded. “He raised him from a foal. He trained him alone. No one else cared for him. It was all Sir Griffin. Even now, he is the one to comb Adonis and see to his needs.”

Layne glanced back at the field. Griffin obviously knew Adonis well. The chances of Adonis balking or sidestepping would be slim. But it could happen. “During our joust, Sir Griffin and mine, did you see Adonis step into a hole or twist his ankle?”

“No,” Carlton said firmly. “Adonis did nothing wrong.”

“But Griffin is such a talented rider, something must have happened. I shouldn’t have been able to unhorse him.”

Carlton stopped and looked at her with harshness in his eyes. “No. You shouldn’t have.”

“Have you checked everything? Maybe Adonis has a stone in his shoe. Maybe –”

“That is not your concern!”

Layne was startled by the agitation in his voice.

Carlton began forward, but stopped suddenly and whirled. “And don’t get any ideas about inspecting Sir Griffin’s armor or weapons. You are to stay away from them.”

Layne drew herself up. “I know!”

Carlton narrowed his eyes in disbelief and shook his head. He stalked toward the tent.

Layne glanced one more time in Griffin’s direction. He was too good to be unhorsed by her. There was something else going on. Something else must have happened on the field of honor to cause him to falter and take a misstep. She turned to follow Carlton.

As they approached the tent, Layne saw a group of about five men standing near their pavilion; some she recognized as competing knights in the joust, some she didn’t.

Carlton slowed before they reached the tent. He grabbed her arm, halting her. “Go and get Sir Griffin,” he said in a quiet voice. He gently eased the wet clothing from her arms.

Layne looked back at the men. At first glance, she didn’t see anything to be apprehensive of, but she quickly realized they all wore their swords strapped to their waists. One stumbled as though he were drunk, and the others laughed. She nodded and backed away, turning to dash toward the field. She ran as fast as she could, hating to leave Carlton alone with the men.

She didn’t slow as she emerged from the forest, running toward the field. Her heart pounded.

Griffin was still the only knight in the field. He thundered down the field, holding his lance.

Layne called his name. She stood at the fence, waving to get his attention. When he didn’t pause or turn in her direction, she ducked through the planks of wood and ran onto the field.

Griffin hit the quintain and rode by. The sandbag whirled around, but didn't come close to hitting him. When he reached the other end of the field, he turned Adonis. He saw her and cantered the steed toward her, his brow furrowed in unhappiness.

They met in the center of the field.

Layne’s heart thundered in her chest as Griffin neared and she wasn’t certain whether it was because of the knights at the tent or Griffin’s disapproving scowl.

“I told you it was forbidden to come to the field,” Griffin warned quietly.

“There are five knights at the tent looking for trouble.”

Griffin’s lips thinned. He reached a hand down to her. Layne stretched her hand up to him, grasping it. Griffin swept her up before him, his arms around her to hold the reins. As soon as she was seated, he spurred Adonis out of the field.

When they came within sight of the tent, Layne saw Carlton surrounded by the men. He shook his head and said something indiscernible to them. One of them answered, pointing to the ground as if making a point.

Griffin urged Adonis between Carlton and the knight, pushing the knight away from Carlton with the animal’s mass.

Layne recognized the knight from the scar running along his cheek to his jaw. Sir Osmont. He sneered when he locked gazes with her.

“Is there something you would say to me, Sir Osmont?” Griffin demanded.

When the other knights turned from Carlton to Griffin, Carlton backed away to the tent, his anxious eyes searching out Griffin.

“You can’t let her get away with it!” Osmont hollered, pointing a finger at Layne. “A fine is not enough punishment.”

Griffin dismounted easily and walked to Osmont until he stood directly before him. Osmont was half a head shorter than Griffin. “And what would you do?”

“Flog the wench! She will understand that a woman does not dress in armor and pretend to be a knight.”

Layne’s fingers curled anxiously around Adonis’s reins.

“I could show her the proper place for a woman,” one of the men behind Osmont said and grabbed his crotch. The movement put him off balance and he stumbled into another knight.

Griffin’s gaze never left Osmont. “Is this the type of treatment you condone for a woman? Hardly befitting of a knight.”

Osmont’s cheeks colored and his jaw tightened.

“A woman is to be treated with reverence, not scorn.”

“She broke the rules!” Osmont sneered.

“And Dinkleshire proclaimed the punishment of a fine.”

“Which you paid. She knocked you on your arse.” Osmont spit out the words. “Where is your pride, man? At the very least you should have let her rot in the dungeon.”

Griffin’s eyes narrowed. “And now you tell me how to behave? Careful, Osmont. You overstep your bounds.”

Osmont met Griffin’s glare, puffing out his chest. “You can’t let her get away with this.”

“The offense was against me, not anyone else.”

“It was against all knights! All men! You were humiliated! Unhorsed by a woman!”

The four knights behind him grumbled in agreement. “And you even paid the bloody fine!” one of them grumbled.

“I did,” Griffin agreed. “I will not have a woman locked away in a dungeon because of me.”

“This is not over, Wolfe. She will be punished,” Osmont growled.

“This woman is mine until her brothers repay me.”

An odd thrill rushed through her at his words.
This woman is mine
. She knew he had said other words after that, but she didn’t hear them. The thrill evaporated just as quickly as it had formed, replaced by a gnawing fear of what her future held under his command.

“She is under my protection,” Griffin continued.

Shocked exclamations met his proclamation.

“If you chose to do her harm, then you do me harm.” Griffin’s eyes narrowed. “And there will be no mercy from me.”

Osmont spit on the ground, but he took a step backward. “You’re growing soft, Wolfe.”

“Your words mean nothing to me. Prove it on the jousting field,” Griffin said, turning his back on Osmont to lock gazes with Layne.

“Oh, I intend to. If a woman can unhorse you, then I should have no problem.” He whirled and stormed off. The other knights followed Osmont toward the castle.

Adonis snorted and tossed his head.

Concern washed over Layne. She had humiliated Griffin. And now, every knight would think he was easy to unhorse. He would be a target for the other knights, both physically and for their scorn and ridicule.

Griffin let out a soft sigh and stepped toward her, lifting his hands to help her dismount.

“Sir Griffin, I apologize. I could have –” Carlton said, his head bowed.

“There is nothing to apologize for.”

Layne leaned down into Griffin’s hold. For just a moment, his hands spanned her waist and her hand lay against his shoulders. She could feel the muscles beneath his tunic, the rippling power.

“You are wet,” he said. His gaze shifted from her eyes to her chest.

Layne recalled the wet clothing she had been holding in her arms. “Oh. Yes. I was doing my chores. Cleaning your clothes.”

Griffin’s smooth brow slowly furrowed. “You went to the stream alone?”

“Carlton accompanied me.”

Griffin nodded in approval. “It is not wise for you to leave the tent unaccompanied.” He looked at the path the knights had taken. “There are some who would do you harm.”

Layne nodded and chanced a glance in the direction the knights had taken. These were men that followed the circuit of tournaments. She knew them by sight, at least. She knew she would come into contact with them again and again.

“It’s not only here. We are participating in the Norfolk Tourney. By then news will have reached them about you.”

Layne hadn’t thought there would be this much controversy surrounding her jousting. She hadn’t thought it through. And now she deeply regretted her actions. It brought embarrassment to her brothers, and if her father heard about what happened he would send for her. That thought sent shivers of apprehension through her.

“It will be dangerous for you,” Griffin said softly.

Layne looked up to see him staring at her. She blushed slightly and nodded.

“You will sleep in the tent with Carlton and me.”

Layne’s mouth dropped. Sleep in the tent with them? But they were not kin. “That isn’t appropriate.”

“Dressing in armor and jousting like a knight isn’t appropriate. This, I do for your safety.”

L
ayne had done everything Griffin
asked her without protest. He was having trouble reconciling this Layne with the one that had defied her brothers and jousted.

They sat in the main room of the Boar’s Head Inn, eating. Carlton sat next to him; Layne sat opposite on the other side of the wooden table. As they ate, Griffin watched Layne. Layne sipped at the soup in the trencher. A lock of dark hair brushed her hand as she lifted a piece of bread to her mouth. She was unlike any woman he had ever met. Intelligent, opinionated. Nothing like his sister, Gwen. Long ago, Gwen had learned the art of fake tears, pouting and manipulation to get her way. Layne seemed to be more of a fighter, a woman who didn't need to resort to manipulation to get what she wanted.