My Noble Knight

by Laurel O'Donnell

  A crash outside the tent made her whirl. “Michael?”

  The moment of silence stretched, and she warily climbed to her feet.

  Michael poked his head into the tent. “You have a visitor.”

  “Visitor?”

  One of the blonde beauties who had been accompanying Griffin swept into the tent. She looked at the breeches in her hand.

  Layne’s gaze moved from her beautiful almond shaped brown eyes, over her blue velvet dress, to her slippered feet, then back to her eyes.

  The woman’s dainty eyebrow lifted as she stared at the clothing in Layne’s hand. “You’ll get better with more practice.”

  Layne pulled the clothing behind her back. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “I am Lady Gwen Wolfe. I came to meet you.”

  A tremor of apprehension shot through her. “Griffin’s sister?”

  “You’ve heard of me!” She clapped her hands together. “And Griffin said he didn’t speak of me.”

  “He’s only said gracious things about you.”

  “He has?” She narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “Like what?”

  Layne hated to lie. The only thing she remembered him saying about his sister was how she manipulated him to get what she wanted. “He said many things, but he never told me how lovely you were.”

  Gwen smiled. “Griffin might have said many things, but you are correct in saying he would not have told you I was beautiful. I have yet to hear him call any woman beautiful.”

  Layne stood with her hand behind her back as Gwen looked around the tent. “How do you do it? I find it difficult to live in a large castle with two brothers. And yet, you live in a small pavilion with three.”

  Layne smiled shyly. “It is a challenge.”

  Gwen nodded, and looked directly at her.

  Layne dropped her gaze to the ground. The difference between them was palpable. She could never be like Gwen. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much Griffin wanted her to be. No matter how much she wanted to be. “Is there a reason you’ve come to my tent?”

  “Griffin seems fond of you and I was intrigued.”

  Layne’s heart squeezed in her chest. “Griffin wants nothing to do with me. I don’t conform to his vision of how woman are supposed to act... and look.”

  “He told you this?”

  “He made it clear.” He was embarrassed of her. He could never introduce her to his family.

  “Hmmm.” Gwen picked up a lock of her hair and gently brushed it over her shoulder. “Sometimes my brother can be a cad.” She placed her hand on her shoulder. “You are very beautiful, in a unique way. I think Griffin has seen this. I think he knows. But everything pales in comparison to winning his precious joust. He pushes whatever he views as a distraction aside.” Gwen looked into her eyes, a mischievous grin formed on her lips. “Don’t you agree?”

  “He has to stay focused. He has many strong knights left to defeat.”

  Gwen’s grin shifted to sympathy. “You care for him.”

  Layne dropped her gaze, not wanting Gwen to see the agony in her eyes. She more than cared for him. She loved him.

  “Oh, my dear,” Gwen whispered. Then she hooked her arm through Layne’s. “Don’t you fear. He will notice you again. I will make sure.” She smiled at Layne. “We are going to be friends, I can tell. Good friends.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Griffin had been grateful that Layne had not shown up to his joust. It was for her own protection, he told himself. Without the distraction of her presence, he had easily won the joust. Her brothers had been there, watching with Richard who was furious at the slight. Prince Edward had calmed him.

  Griffin had not spoken to Gwen. He hoped she had reached Layne and made her his offer. She must have accepted. That must have been why Layne was not at the joust.

  Now, he looked out over the Great Hall at the throng of knights. Most were now out of the competition. Richard was still in, a fact that he found no end to boasting about.

  Griffin took a bite of his venison. Tomorrow, Richard jousted against Ethan. He wondered where his old friend had gotten. He hadn’t seen him since he crossed him and offered coin to the Fletchers. A thought crossed his mind. Perhaps he had seduced Layne. Perhaps… Griffin grit his teeth and forced the thought away. He ripped into his venison, taking a healthy bite.

  And what of the saboteur? Had there really ever been one? Had he made up the cut in his stirrup leather to justify Layne unhorsing him? And the cut in his cinch. Had they really been cut? No. Layne had noticed both, also. He found himself scanning the hall, looking for her.

  “Well done, brother.”

  Griffin looked up to find Gwen taking a seat at his side. “Thank you for speaking to her.” Gwen smiled that annoying secretive smile that drove Griffin mad. He leaned close to her. “You did have one of your ladies speak to Layne, didn’t you?”

  “Well, actually, no.”

  “No?”

  “I spoke to her.”

  Griffin watched as she took a mug from a servant woman. She was up to something. When the servant passed, he asked, “Did she accept my offer?”

  Gwen sighed. “We both found your offer... insulting.”

  Griffin scowled and growled, “Gwen. What did you do?”

  Gwen’s gaze swung over the crowd as she sipped the ale.

  A prickling of unease and dread danced over his shoulders and up his neck. “Gwen.”

  “I thought of another proposition for her.”

  “What did you do, Gwen?” Griffin grumbled.

  Gwen smiled as her gaze locked on something in the back of the room.

  Trepidation and anger ran through Griffin. He should have known better than to ask Gwen for anything, much less something so important to him. He wanted to grab his sister and shake her until she told him where Layne was. “What did you do?”

  Gwen lifted her chin. “I turned her into a woman. Just like you wanted.”

  Griffin followed her gaze. Standing in the large double doorway, he immediately spotted Ethan. He had stopped to speak with another man. On his arm was a woman. Her dark hair was braided and hung down her back. She wore a simple maroon gown made of velvet that hugged her figure. Even at this distance, Griffin felt something stir inside of him. His breath caught in his throat.

  It was only when she laughed at something the man said that he was certain.

  Layne.

  Gwen grabbed his arm. “Do sit down. You are making a spectacle of yourself.”

  Griffin was surprised to find himself standing. He quickly sat.

  “She is to dine with us. Richard was so upset that he couldn’t meet her that I helped make her presentable. Just so you wouldn’t be embarrassed of her.”

  Her words were like little daggers slicing at him. But he could not take his gaze from Layne as she turned to Ethan and spoke with him. A dark rage rose inside of Griffin. He swiped at his cup and drained it. “What about Farindale?”

  “Ethan is a family friend. He will dine with us, also.” Gwen waved her hand dismissingly. “As will her brothers.”

  For the first time, Griffin noticed her brothers behind her, trailing her in. He slouched in his seat.

  Gwen leaned over to him. “Now who is not presentable?”

  Griffin clenched his lips and looked away from his deceitful sister.

  Ethan led Layne up the center aisle. Griffin’s gaze swung to them and locked on the way Ethan’s hand held hers, the way every other knight in the room turned to regard her. The way that damned velvet caressed her curves.

  “It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” Gwen asked. “The transformation. Why, I believe even Father would be pleased.”

  The Layne who moved up the aisle was respectable and conformed to his every idea of a proper woman. This Layne was the one that society dictated she be. But this wasn’t his Layne. His Layne was the one that exploded with joy when he splintered the quintain. His Layne was the one who wore breeches and let her hair curl down
her back in rebellious, unkempt waves. God’s blood. He wanted her. He wanted his Layne. But he feared she would never have him; she would only remember the oaf who had insulted and humiliated her. A lump rose in his throat.

  Ethan and Layne stopped before the table.

  “Ahhh!” Richard said, rising. “Is this the lady I’ve heard so much about?”

  Colin moved forward. “Lord Richard, may I present my sister?”

  Richard pulled the chair beside him away from the table. “Come, my dear. Sit here, beside me.”

  Griffin stared down at his venison, all appetite gone. He picked at the meat as Layne moved around the table.

  “You Fletchers, take a seat at the table. Ethan, you are welcome, also.”

  Gwen smiled as Layne rounded the table to take the empty seat between she and Richard.

  Gwen elbowed him. She leaned close to him to whisper, “Do greet her. Who is the embarrassment now?”

  Griffin grit his teeth and rose. He flung the chair back in his anger at what Gwen had said and it almost struck Layne. She stopped as the chair came to a rest, blocking her path. She turned her gaze to him. He froze, caught in the beacon of her beautiful eyes. All of Griffin’s anger dissipated, draining from his body beneath her stare. He floundered. Did he remove the chair from her path? Did he take her hand and kiss it? All he really wanted to do was kiss her lips. His scowl deepened and he bowed his head. “Layne.”

  Gwen shook her head. “You’re a cur,” she whispered and pulled the chair aside so Layne could pass.

  “Thank you,” Layne said to Gwen. She glanced at Griffin. “It’s good to see you, Sir Griffin.”

  He did not miss the formality of her words and the distance that her tone put between them. He watched her move past him and regret suddenly assailed him. She was a remarkable woman. How could he have known she would be so… so… damned beautiful?

  She sat and he couldn’t take his gaze from her.

  Gwen reached out and pulled at his hand.

  He realized he was the only one standing. He glanced around and his stare locked on the door in the back of the Great Hall. He should flee. This could not turn out well. He sat heavily.

  Colin took the seat beside him.

  Griffin greeted him with a nod.

  “I’m delighted to finally make your acquaintance!” Richard said to Layne. “My brother has told me many things about you.”

  “I hope they were not all bad.”

  That dagger in Griffin’s heart twisted.

  “Not at all!” Richard exclaimed. “He piqued my interest.” Richard leaned closer to Layne. “Is it true you unhorsed him?”

  God’s blood! Griffin thought, raising the mug of ale to his lips and draining it. Will my humiliation never end?

  “I did, but I believe I caught him unawares.”

  Griffin froze with his head tilted back, the mug to his lips.

  “I think my eyes gave me away and Sir Griffin is chivalrous enough to take a fall for a lady.”

  She was giving him a way out. She was actually making him appear gallant! He shook his head as he lowered the mug.

  “That is not what I heard,” Richard grumbled.

  “But it is the truth!” Layne explained. “No one else was on the field of honor. Only Griffin and I know the truth. I could never have beaten him.”

  “No,” Griffin said softly, the small word tore from his soul. He couldn’t let her do it.

  Gwen turned to him.

  “He has won all the tournaments he has been in. Surely I could not have unhorsed him. Me, a mere woman.”

  “No,” Griffin said louder. This drew the attention of Layne and Richard. He looked at Layne. “Tell him the truth, Layne. I did not know you were a woman until after you had unhorsed me.”

  She shook her head slightly, silently begging him not to continue.

  “You are no mere woman. You are extremely skilled in the art of jousting and swordplay.” He watched her eyes widen in surprise, but he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted to say everything he couldn’t say before. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how much he missed her. “You can decipher a weakness quicker than I have ever seen. The reason you unhorsed me was nothing short of skill and talent. You know more about weapons than some men know. And you are a brilliant rider.”

  The table around him was completely silent.

  “Your excitement and enthusiasm for the sport is unsurpassed and… I have been a fool for not realizing it earlier.” He shook his head. “You belong on the field of honor more than at a celebration for men who are not your equal.”

  Layne covered her mouth with her fingers.

  “But she is not a knight,” Osmont shouted and stood from a nearby table. “She should never have been on the field of honor! The day she took up arms against you, she defiled the field.”

  Griffin rose, his fists clenched. “Just because a man has not been knighted, does not mean he… or she… is any less honorable.” He pointed at Layne. “She never hit someone from behind! She has more courage and proper upbringing than you have shown your entire life!”

  “Well said!” Ethan agreed, raising his mug from down the table and drinking it deeply.

  “You know the rules,” Osmont growled. He turned to the assembly who had grown quiet, listening to the exchange. “She was not a knight when she took to the field and jousted against Wolfe. She should never have been there.”

  Layne stood. “I paid my dues. The matter has been settled. It is not your right or your place to interfere. No matter how much you disagree.”

  Griffin cast her a fleeting glance. She was beautiful, brave and courageous. He knew she was exactly the woman he wanted to present to his family.

  “You dare to speak to me with such disrespect?” Osmont snarled.

  “Contempt, disrespect, abhorrence. Call it what you will. What you did to Michael, to me, is unforgivable. Only a coward would hit a woman from behind. Only a coward would take a child’s fingers in anger. You are --”

  Osmont lunged forward.

  Griffin moved instantly to protect her, but the sound of swords being drawn echoed through the room.

  Before Osmont was anywhere near Layne, Colin, Frances and the guards nearby had all drawn their weapons.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Osmont came up short, snarling like an animal.

  Layne lifted her chin, staring him in the eye.

  Beside her, Richard lounged lazily in his chair. “It’s disrespectful to insult my guests, Sir Osmont. You will apologize immediately or be removed from the Keep.”

  Osmont spit on the ground. “I’d rather be trampled by a hundred horses.”

  Richard leaned forward. “Careful, Osmont. That can be arranged.”

  Osmont glanced at Layne and then at Griffin. “This isn’t over, Wolfe.”

  Richard rose slowly. “It is over, Osmont. Whatever is left will be settled on the field of honor. You are to never mention this incident again.”

  Osmont clenched his teeth, bowed slightly and whirled, storming from the room.

  Layne knew it was a small victory, but she felt joyful nonetheless. She looked at Michael who stood beside Griffin. She couldn’t help but notice the bandage wrapped around his hand that rested over the dagger tucked in his belt. She wiggled her eyebrows, but kept herself from grinning.

  “You all right, Layne?” Colin asked.

  Layne nodded, but turned to watch Osmont walk out of the Great Hall. She might be all right, but it was Colin she was worried about. He jousted Osmont on the morrow.

  Layne walked across the grassy field with her brothers and Ethan, back to their tent. She hated the dress. It was cumbersome and she had to pick her legs up high to step through the tall stalks. Her dress got caught on something and she turned.

  “I’ll help you,” Ethan said. As he fought the twigs that grabbed her skirt, she looked back at the castle as if she were called. Standing on the walkway, silhouetted in the moonlight, was Griffin. She wa
s sure it was him. She would recognize him anywhere. Her heart hammered in her chest. He had defended her this night. The things he had said...

  Ethan pulled the skirt free.

  “Bet you couldn’t win a sword fight in that!” Michael said and raced toward their tent.

  She would not take that bet. She looked back up at the castle.

  Ethan followed her gaze. He laughed low in his throat. “It must have been a shock to see you like this.”

  “Maybe for him.”

  “For all of us!” Frances called.

  She laughed in mocking reply. But she knew she would do anything to catch his eye again. Even dress in one of these awful dresses.

  Colin’s horse danced nervously beneath him, but he steadied him with a firm hand. Osmont sat stiffly across the field, his horse unmoving, his gaze locked on Colin.

  Colin’s gaze shifted to the berfrois. Frances stood with his arms crossed beside Richard who watched with shrewd eyes. Layne was beside him, clasping her hands before her. He could not let his family down. He could not lose.

  He pranced Sprite, his steed, back and forth, trying to ease his nerves. When he was ready, he approached Michael who handed him his lance. He spurred his steed forward, down the field, bringing his lance down to point directly at Osmont. He rode his horse, becoming one with the animal, feeling the rhythm, knowing when it was time to strike. Colin leaned forward, preparing for the hit.

  He heard Osmont’s cry as the lance struck his shoulder, glancing off his armor; but it did not break. It was a brief moment of victory for in the next second, Osmont’s lance landed a brutal blow in the side and Colin reeled, teetering. He grimaced as pain speared through his body. His hands tightened around the reins and he clamped his legs around his horse to keep from plummeting to the ground.

  His horse circled from the pressure on the reins and reared slightly, but Colin held on and pulled himself upright.

  As he centered himself in the saddle, the ringing in his ears cleared enough for him to hear the cry of the spectators around him. He spurred his horse down the length of the field more out of habit than anything else. His head was reeling. He reached Michael and looked down at him. His lips moved, but Colin couldn’t hear what he was saying. He shook his head, trying to clear it. The fogginess and disorientation lingered. He had to win. He couldn’t let them down. He grit his teeth and reached down for the lance Michael lifted to him.