My Noble Knight

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Colin nodded and began to hobble across the clearing.

  Griffin started to walk in the direction Layne had gone. Where would she go? There were men out there who were still angry with what she had done on the jousting field. She was in the dark. There were all kinds of danger out there. She was alone. The memory of her bloodied head came to his mind. He began to run.

  A rumble of thunder rolled through the night sky.

  Layne ran and ran. She didn’t know where she was going and with any luck she wouldn’t know where she was when she finally stopped. ‘Our family would be better if you weren’t in it’. Frances’s words replayed again and again in her mind. She thought of Michael’s hand. And Colin’s leg. No, she told herself firmly. Colin’s leg was not her fault.

  But Osmont had delivered the blow. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so brutal if he wasn’t so angry with her. Maybe...

  She stopped to catch her breath, leaning against a tree, and looked at the sky through the leaves of the trees. Lightning lit the sky in a blanket of white. Griffin thought she was the one who had sabotaged him. Her! She thought he knew her. She thought of all men, he would have taken her side. But he had accused her instead. He didn’t believe her. He never believed her.

  She pushed herself from the tree and ran on as thunder boomed around her. She couldn’t run fast enough to forget that he wanted nothing to do with her. She wasn’t good enough to present to his family. She couldn’t run fast enough to erase the memory of his tender kiss on her lips.

  Lightning split the sky again, crashing to earth with a large boom.

  Layne covered her ears and ran. She turned a corner and stumbled, falling to the dirt. She lifted her face. The first large drops pelted her. At first, she thought a person stood before her and she startled, but then she slowly realized it wasn’t a real person. It was the quintain. She turned her head. The empty berfrois was to her right. She followed the darker shadow of the fence around the field. Lightning forked in the sky, splitting the darkness and opening the night. Rain fell in a drenching downpour as she realized she was in the field of honor. She didn’t remember passing through the gate that led out into the field, but somehow she must have, because here she stood.

  Slowly, she stood to her feet. The sheets of rain blurred her vision of the quintain. The downpour plastered her hair to her forehead. She brushed the soaked strands aside and sloshed through the quickly growing mud to the quintain. She stared up at it for a long moment. Just a dummy. A toy for the knights to practice with. An emotionless block of wood. Griffin had destroyed it. Her brothers had struck it. The other knights had cursed it. And it just came back for more, again and again.

  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.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Frances 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.

  She quickly turned away, feeling a rush of excitement from his look. “You should concentrate on your joust. Actually, that’s why I came.” She picked up his other gauntlet. He held out his hand and she slipped it over his fingers. “I know you joust against your brother today. And I know how much you would like to win.”

  “All combatants would like to win. But you are correct. I would like to knock him on his arse.”

  Layne grinned. “Now is that because he is lord or your brother? Or both?”

  “Because he is my brother. I have never beaten him in a joust.”

  “You lost to him?” Layne was shocked. She had always known him to beat all that stood against him.

  “You sound surprised. I could not win every joust. I was young, once. And rash and not as well trained as I am now.”

  Layne grinned. “Sounds like excuses.”

  “Perhaps. But I suppose there was a time when you could best Frances.”

  Layne agreed as she checked his buckles. “There was. Until he grew taller than me. And stronger.”

  “Sounds like excuses to me.”

  She smiled. “I guess we grow into our roles.” She stepped back. “I may not be able to best Frances, but I can certainly see other things. Ways others can beat you.”

  “Me?”

  She bent and picked up his helmet. “When you first jousted me, I did see something. The way you joust. You aim for the stomach and then at the last moment, shift to the shoulder. You do it every time.”

  Griffin scowled as she said the words.

  She could almost see him thinking about what he did when he jousted. She handed his helmet to him. “It’s something you should be cautious of. Your brother might not be as gentle as I was.”

  Griffin laughed out loud as she turned toward the tent flap.

  She stopped in the doorway. “Be careful.”

  “Thank you, Layne.”

  The visor only allowed Griffin
to see directly in front of him. The roar of the crowd was distant. He could hear his breathing in the metal helmet. His hair was wet from sweat, but he had learned long ago to place a rag beneath his helmet to help collect the moisture. It didn’t stop the beads from running down his forehead.

  At the other end of the field, Richard’s horse danced beneath him. He knew the animal; it was Richard’s favorite. A black warhorse. Adonis’s brother. He knew the animal was as powerful as his, but he doubted it had a stronger connection to its rider. Richard let others tend to the animal after tourneys. He had little emotional bond with the horse.

  Carlton handed him the lance. He gripped it firmly, then he nudged Adonis. The warhorse started down the list, charging faster with each footfall.

  Griffin couched his lance and held it upright until he and Adonis got into their rhythm together, moving as one. When he was close enough, he lowered the lance, aiming toward his brother. The lance moved slightly up and down, but Griffin held it tight, steadying it.

  Richard lowered his lance, pointing the blunted tip at Griffin.

  Griffin leaned forward to get the first and best blow. His lance struck Richard a glancing blow to his shoulder and teetered off.

  A punishing strike hit Griffin’s stomach, so hard that he felt himself being pushed back, both from the impetus of his blow to Richard’s arm and from the slam to his stomach. He grabbed onto the reins and held firmly, using his knees to hold onto Adonis and keep his seat. He gasped for a moment, trying to catch his breath. His brother was not making this easy.

  Adonis instinctively rode to the other side. Griffin circled the horse until he caught his breath. Looks like Richard really doesn’t want to be lord any longer.

  The problem was Griffin didn’t want to be lord either. Through the slit in his visor, he looked down the field at his brother. His silver armor glinted in the sunlight. He knows my moves. He trained with me for a long time. How can I beat him?