And she had humiliated him by jousting. She had risked everything to joust. The farm they were saving up to buy so their father had a place to live in his final days in. Their reputation.
She deserved to be sent to the dungeon. No, she deserved to be sent home. That would be even worse than the dungeon.
Jousting and swordplay had made her feel part of the family; she could participate with her brothers, talk to them about it. It was all that interested her. It was the only thing that her father liked to hear about. She didn’t care about writing and reading. She didn’t care about music. Her Aunt would reprimand her and tell her that she would never amount to anything. No man would ever want her if she couldn't cook, if she couldn't embroider. But she didn't care.
In the beginning, when they had first arrived at the manor home, she had tried. She had attempted to do all those things that were expected of her. She would proudly display her father’s mended pants, but he wasn't interested. She had tried again and again telling him stories of the lessons of the day, of her knowledge of fashion. But her father didn't care. He would not listen and his eyes would glaze until one of her brothers came into the room. He would listen to Colin’s story for hours. But he never seemed to find the time for her stories.
She ripped another piece of grass from the ground. And now, here she was with a man who was much like her father, unable to see her for who she was. Really see her. She grabbed a lock of her hair that fell over her shoulder and swished the end of it. He looked at her and thought she should wear her hair in those horrible metal circles. She brushed at her breeches. That she should wear a velvet cotehardie. She looked at the field of honor.
Griffin rode toward the quintain again, his lance held steady, his focus unrelenting.
The problem was, if her father didn’t like her for who she really was, how could she hope that the best knight she had even seen would? She tore the blade of grass in half.
And even worse, since she wasn't allowed to know about jousting and sword play and horses, how could she ever tell Griffin that someone had cut the stirrup leather? He would only scold her again and reprimand her for talking of things that were not fit for a woman.
Layne made sure to walk behind both Griffin and Carlton on the way back to the pavilion. Carlton looked over his shoulder at her, meeting her gaze. She looked away out over the sunny field.
When they reached the tent, Carlton led Adonis to the side of the tent.
Griffin turned to her.
For one moment, she locked gazes with him. Those spectacular blue eyes shone in the sunlight. Layne quickly looked away from them and moved to step around him.
“Layne,” he said softly.
Was this another punishment? Was he going to reprimand her for rushing onto the field?
“I wanted to explain…”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered.
“It does matter.” Griffin straightened, looking down at her. “Can't you see that this is all for your benefit? I'm trying to teach you how women are expected to behave so you can marry into a good family and make your brothers proud.”
Layne folded her hands before her. Her aunt had told her that numerous times. Make your family proud by marrying a man. A man who would never let her sword fight or joust. It was worse than death. “I was never good at embroidery. When I tried to sing, people would cover their ears or laugh. I can't cook. I can't read or write. I can't recite poetry. The only thing I was ever good at was sword fighting.” She grinned sadly. “The only thing I was ever interested in was the joust.” She looked up at him and fought down the lump in her throat. He'd saved her from the dungeon and for that she was grateful. “What kind of man would want to marry me?”
“You can change.”
“I can be miserable.”
He frowned. He always seemed to be scowling when he looked at her. “Layne...”
“I think my chances of marrying into a good family are long gone. So, why can't I be happy?” She turned away from him to enter the tent.
Chapter Nine
The sound of loud laughter woke Griffin late that night. He sat up. In the glow from the moonlight illuminating the side of the tent, he could see Carlton still asleep on his mat. He saw that Layne’s mat was empty.
He stood immediately and rushed out of the tent.
The Fletcher tent was close to his. He had allowed the proximity in silence, even though it infringed on his boundaries. They were Layne’s brothers. A fire burned in a small pit they had dug. The two older brothers sat close to the fire, eating something that looked fresh and smelled delicious.
Griffin spotted her immediately. Layne sat on the ground with her back to him. Her long, dark wavy hair reached to the ground. She had her arm around the youngest brother. She leaned forward, listening intently to her eldest brother Colin.
“Frances flipped him over the table and slammed him to the ground,” Colin said in a hurried whisper.
“Where was Michael?” Layne asked.
Griffin stepped back into the shadows of the tent, not wanting to disturb them.
“Bringing the horses around,” Frances said, taking a deep drink from his flask.
Griffin peered out between a gap in the tent flap.
“I sent him out as soon as I thought there would be trouble,” Colin said in a quieter voice.
Layne looked down at Michael. He slept soundly beneath her arm. She kissed his forehead.
A longing came over Griffin as he watched her family. They were so close, each an integral part of the group. He had never felt like that with his family. He loved his father, brother and sister, but he felt like he was always competing with his older brother. And his sister, she was always too busy with her friends or her social obligations to pay him much heed. No, his family was not like hers.
“Plus I didn’t want him to see if we got our arses kicked,” Colin said taking a large bite from his meat.
Frances snorted and rolled his eyes.
“We were outnumbered two to one!” Colin said around a mouthful of food.
“Yeah, by a bunch of drunk farmers,” Frances clarified.
“They were not farmers!” Colin protested.
“They weren’t knights,” Frances countered.
“Just because the one you fought could hardly throw a punch!”
“The one?” Frances objected. “I think I handled three of them!”
Griffin smiled as the men quarreled about who took on the most men. Boys. That’s what they reminded him of. Young men having a grand adventure. But why drag Layne around with them? They must have had no one to leave her with.
“Yes! Yes!” Layne said. “You both were brilliant, I’m sure.”
Griffin peeked around the side of the tent to see Frances elbow Colin. Colin swatted him in the head. Layne shook her head. The silence spread easily and Griffin could hear the crackle of the fire.
“And what about you, Laynie?” Colin asked, wiping a sleeve across his mouth. “Is the old curmudgeon treating you with respect?”
Griffin ducked back into the shadows. He drew in a small insulted breath and held it.
“He isn’t that old,” she protested.
“He hasn’t tried anything dishonorable, has he?” Frances demanded, his voice tight.
Griffin leaned closer to hear her answer.
Layne chuckled, but the sound was more of a gag than a mirthful laugh. “He wants to make a proper woman out of me.”
Frances scoffed. “He can try, right Laynie?”
“What has he done?” Colin wondered.
Griffin peeked through the folds of the tent again, through the gap, to watch. Layne’s back was to him, her arm still around a sleeping Michael.
Layne shrugged. “He makes me cook.”
The men laughed out loud at that.
Layne threw a stick at Frances that he batted aside. “I’m surprised he’s not sick to his stomach!” Frances roared.
It took all Griffin’s will not to rush to
her defense.
She lifted her chin. “He’s strong. Really strong.”
That made the men stop laughing. Good, Griffin thought smugly. He’d knock them flat in the tourney for laughing at Layne.
She leaned forward slightly. “He let me watch him practice once. He doesn’t like when I do. He says that ladies should show no interest in the technicalities of the joust.” Her voice mocked his as she said it.
Frances grimaced and shook his head.
“What did you learn? Does he have any weakness?” Colin asked.
Griffin stiffened. It was something he had never even considered. Was she a spy? Would she relay his fault to her brothers and betray him? Of course she would. Her loyalty was to her family.
“I didn't learn about a weakness.” She pulled something out of her tunic and displayed it to her brothers. “But about a stirrup leather.”
Chills shot down Griffin’s spine. A stirrup leather. Where had she gotten that?
Colin took the leather from her hand, looking at it.
“I'm not supposed to have it,” Layne admitted.
Colin looked at her.
Frances took the stirrup leather from Colin’s hand, glancing at it. “What about it?”
“It was cut,” Colin answered. “Someone’s trying to sabotage him.”
Layne nodded. “I have to get this back before he finds out it’s missing.”
Colin took the stirrup leather from Frances and handed it to Layne. “I don't want you there. If someone is trying to sabotage him, then he’s in danger. And if he is, you are, too.”
Layne shook her head, running her hand over the leather strap. “I'm more worried about Griffin than me.”
Griffin stayed hidden in the dark. The strap was cut? Sabotage. The word sent anger boiling through his veins. Dishonorable cur. Who could have done this? But his thoughts slid back to Layne. What was she doing with the stirrup leather? Where had she gotten it from? What did she plan to do with it? There was only one explanation. She didn't want him to find out it was sabotaged, so she had taken it. Then another terrible thought reared its ugly head in his mind. Had she cut it so her brother would win? Was Layne capable of such a dark deed…
Chapter Ten
Layne collected the leftover bread to consolidate the remaining food for later. No use wasting any of it. She heard footsteps and whirled.
Frances came up behind her.
Layne grimaced. “You never could sneak up on me.”
“I wasn’t trying.”
“What are you doing here?” Layne wondered and continued to place the leftover bread into a sack. When Frances didn’t reply, Layne looked at him over her shoulder.
He shook his head in disbelief. “He’s already changed you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You used to fight over cleaning up the leftovers.”
Layne ignored the jeer and tied the sack closed. “It’s one of my duties here. Griffin made sure I understood what my chores would be. Besides,” she sat back on her heels, “he’s not a pig.”
Frances chuckled. “It’s not me who is the pig. Maybe Michael…” Frances walked up behind her. “We need this purse, Layne,” he whispered.
She stared at the dying fire pit. “I know.”
“We only have this tournament and the next. If we don’t win… Well, you know the plan. We need one more win.”
Layne nodded. “I know the plan,” she whispered. That had been part of the reason she had taken his place on the jousting field. And now, they needed even more coin to get her out of this predicament. “And when you win, I intend for you to make sure Colin still uses it to buy the farm.”
Frances shook his head. “We need to get you away from Wolfe.”
Layne stood. “No! Father comes first.”
Frances opened his mouth to argue, but Layne grabbed his arm. “Griffin treats me well, a little too much like a pampered girl, but I can deal with that. Father… He needs a home. And so do we.”
Frances closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Promise me, Frances. We will win and the coin goes to buy the farm.”
He nodded and mumbled, “We have to win one more tourney. Or we won’t have enough.”
Layne punched him in the arm. “Are you having doubts?”
“Wolfe is a practiced knight,” Frances murmured.
“Oh. So, you’re afraid. That’s why you let the quintain hit you.”
He looked up startled. Then, his eyes narrowed.
She shrugged and turned away. “Don’t worry. If I have to take your place again –”
Frances grabbed her from behind, flipped her over his hip and caught her in a headlock. “You won’t be taking my place ever again. I’m the best knight and you know it.”
Layne smiled and tugged half-heartedly at his arm.
“Say it. Who’s the best knight?”
“Release her.”
The booming voice startled them both. Frances let her go, keeping a grip on her arm so she didn’t fall.
Griffin stood like an angry god staring down with stern disapproval at his subjects. His fists were clenched, his eyes icy. Hard and cold. Murderously cold.
Layne stepped in front of Frances. “It’s okay, Griffin. We were just playing.”
Griffin’s eyes narrowed. “It is no wonder you do not know how to behave like a woman.”
Layne’s joy faded under Griffin’s harsh words.
Frances pushed forward from behind her. “What does that mean?”
“When your own brother does not treat you as a woman, then you can’t be faulted for your lack of knowledge.”
Frances shoved her out of the way and lunged at Griffin.
Griffin caught him and tossed him aside like a rag doll.
“Stop!” Layne cried and grabbed Griffin’s arm.
Griffin looked at her. There was something frightening in his tight jaw and his stormy blue eyes. He yanked his arm away from her.
Frances rose and Layne again rushed forward to stop him, recognizing the anger in her brother’s gaze. She placed two hands on his chest, pushing to keep him back from Griffin. “Go, Frances.”
“I won’t leave you with this barbarian,” Frances growled.
Griffin straightened. “Unfortunately, she will remain until you and your brothers are able to pay me back.”
“It’s all right,” Layne pleaded, pushing Frances back a step. “I’ll be fine.” She shoved him again.
Frances cast Layne a glance before looking back at Griffin with fury.
Layne was too familiar with that look. Frances wasn’t going to give it up. “Colin!” she hollered, knowing that alone she wouldn’t be able to stop him.
Colin emerged from the Fletcher tent as Frances shoved forward again.
Layne lost ground to him, but pushed with all her power. “Colin!” she cried for help.
“You know nothing of women, in particular my sister,” Frances ground out. “Why don’t you look at your own manhood before you degrade her.”
Colin leapt a log and raced to her side. He caught Frances around the shoulders. “Enough!”
“It was not my intent to degrade her,” Griffin said.
Frances lurched forward, but Colin held him back. He struggled to pull Frances away from the camp. Finally, Frances whirled and stormed toward the Fletcher tent.
Colin cast a glance over his shoulder at Griffin and then locked eyes with Layne.
Misery welled in her eyes. Frances had always been the hot headed one, the one always first to start a fight. She knew he would pace inside their tent with determined strides, muttering all sorts of vengeful plans against those who had wronged him.
Colin turned and hurried after Frances. Colin would see to him. He had a way of cooling Frances’s temper.
Layne watched them go until they disappeared into the Fletcher tent. She whirled on Griffin. “You had no right!”
Griffin straightened.
“You can ridicule me
all you want in private. But not in front of my family. Frances is not responsible for the way I act.”
“Not responsible?” Griffin sputtered. “As your elder brother, he is very much responsible.”
Layne stepped up to him, glaring. “He can’t control me. Anymore then you can.” Her voice thickened. “I will not tolerate you belittling my brother.”
Griffin frowned as he stared at the fierce dedication in her eyes. He had wounded her in defending her. When he had returned for his sword, the first thing he saw had been a man with his arm around her neck. He had sprinted the rest of the way, thinking she was in trouble. A rock had settled in the pit of his stomach as he raced towards her. What if he didn’t reach her time?
As he neared, he realized it was her brother and his fear dissolved into rage. He would never treat a woman like Layne’s brother had, let alone his own sister!
Facing Layne’s anger and humiliation now, he realized he had been wrong and rash. He didn’t know what to say to her. He was trying to set an example for her, but he was failing.
She whirled. “Besides, I could have beaten him.”
He stepped closer. “And how could you have possibly done that?”
She straightened. “I would have pinched his ears and made him squeal. He hates when I do that.”
Griffin saw her smile, but he kept his mouth even. “So this tussle you had with your brother was a game?”
She nodded. “Of course.” She looked at him with an odd glance. “Didn’t you ever play games with your sister?”
Griffin nodded. “Chess. Dice games. But I never put her in such an undignified position as a headlock when she beat me at dice, I dare say.
She stared at him for a long moment. “Where is your sister now?”
“At home.” Waiting for father to find the right husband for her, he thought. But he chose not to share that fact for the moment.
“Weren’t you close to her?”
Griffin thought about Gwen. It was the first time in a long time he had thought of her. His younger sister had idolized their older brother, Richard, but she had barely given him a second glance. He was sure she loved him. He was just different than Richard. Not as accommodating.
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