My Noble Knight (23 page)

She looked back at the weapons, glancing down at his lance. It was if they were set out like a trap.

“What are you doing here?”

She whirled, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger she now wore tucked into the back of her breeches. It was out in a flash, pointed at –

“Griffin,” she sighed. Somehow his appearance, his rugged handsomeness, always caught her off guard and left her breathless. Those sparkling blue eyes left her defenseless. She straightened, lowering the dagger. “What are you doing here?”

“This is my tent,” he answered. “I ask you again, what are you doing here?”

The cold hard tone in his voice sent any happiness at seeing him fleeing. She tucked the dagger in her breeches behind her back. “I was looking for Carlton.”

“You could have seen Carlton was not near my weapons. What do you want with those?”

She scowled. She didn’t like his implication. “If you must know, I was thinking about your sabotaged lance. I thought it strange that no one was watching your weapons.”

“You think the saboteur will try again?”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Of course. Don’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” His gaze swept her. “Only what the saboteur thinks.”

Layne shook her head, disgusted. “You think I sabotaged you?”

“You want your brother to win.”

She nodded. “Yes. Yes I do. But not like that. Honor is as important as winning.”

“I find it amusing you should say so after disguising yourself as a man to joust.”

Her disbelief fled in the face of his coldness. She straightened, lifting her chin. “I did not sabotage you. I wouldn’t do that to you. I thought you would have learned that by now.” She spun around to come face to face with a woman. The woman’s blue eyes assessed her with a brief glance from head to toe and then dismissed her.

Layne cast an accusing glare at Griffin before leaving. She had no doubt that the woman was one of the nobles he did not kiss.

Griffin watched her go, regret twisting his heart. He knew she didn't sabotage him. And yet, she had the opportunity at every turn. Had she deceived him so? Even as he thought this, his instinct was to cry out to her not to leave him again. But she wasn’t his to stop. He shifted his gaze to lock eyes with Jacquelyn. He quickly tried to hide the hurt and betrayal by turning away from her to look down at his weapons. It didn’t appear she had touched any of them. “Why did you follow me, Jacquelyn?”

“I don’t have much time to be alone with you.” She glanced after Layne and then looked back at Griffin. “I just wanted to... see how you fared. You’ve been away for a long time.”

“You could have asked me these questions in the castle. Why out here? You hate dirt and mud. You wouldn’t be caught dead trudging through the combatants’ tents.” He bent down to inspect his weapons more closely.

“Yes, well, any decent woman would avoid these gong pits.” She lifted her foot to inspect the bottom of her slipper.

“Then why come?” He looked at her.

She smiled gently, thrusting out her ample bosom to him, stroking the fabric at her belly. “I’d rather be in the castle. In a warm bed.” She looked at him through lidded eyes. “Wouldn’t you?”

Griffin stood, appalled. This couldn't be what he thought. Surely, she could not be attempting to seduce him. “Never.”

“You like the dirt and mud better? Do you actually sleep here?” She bent over and peered inside the tent, giving him a view of her rounded breasts.

He ground his teeth. This made no sense! Richard was lord of the castle. Why come after him? And then he remembered. He had seen her running from the solar. She must have overheard his conversation with his father. Now, thinking he was the favored son, she was turning her attentions back to him. It was so comically, pathetically obvious.

“I’d like to see where you sleep,” she continued.

“You are married to my brother, Jacquelyn. And I would never betray him like that.”

She walked up to him, wrapping her arms about his neck. “I can change your mind.”

He quickly disengaged her hands and pushed her back a step. “It’s time you head back.”

She scowled, and in another lifetime ago he would have thought her pout irresistible. But not any longer. “Won’t you even escort me?”

“Of course.” He bowed stiffly and began to lead the way, careful not to touch her or to let her touch him.

She ‘humphed’ and hurried past him, walking with her chin held high.

He had a moment of victory. Until he spotted Layne through two trees, near her tent, watching them.

G
riffin stared down the field
of honor at his opponent. Daunger sat as still as a stone, staring at him. He had not been in any other tournament, so this was the first time Griffin or any of the other knights were seeing him joust. He was well known for his participation in the melees, known for being rash and reckless and unpredictable. Despite his inexperience in the joust, Griffin suspected he was going to be a dangerous opponent.

Griffin lowered his visor. He had to stay focused, watch for an opening. But as soon as the visor closed and the cheers of the crowd muted, the image of a woman with glorious blue eyes filled his mind. Why had she been near his weapons? Was she really worrying about him?

He grit his teeth. He couldn’t think of her now. Firmly, he pushed Layne’s image from his mind. But it wasn’t as easy as he would have liked it to be. Her vision haunted his days as much as his nights. Everywhere he went, he looked for her, listened for her laughter. He missed her.

Adonis pranced nervously beneath him.

Griffin tugged on the reins, urging Adonis into a circle to calm him.

Carlton lifted his lance to him.

Griffin took it and spurred Adonis. Through the slit in his visor, he saw Daunger charging toward him down the field. He couched the lance, holding it firmly.

Adonis suddenly slowed and threw his head, balking.

Daunger’s lance struck Griffin hard in the shoulder. His body half turned in the saddle, and if he was any less experienced Griffin would have been unhorsed. His arm was numb and throbbing as he rode to the other end of the field. He tossed down his lance and turned Adonis toward his side of the field. He passed Daunger who had flipped up his visor and was grinning ear to ear.

Griffin did not look at the grandstand where he knew his family watched. He already felt the incredible weight of their presence.

His arm pulsated from the blow, but he pushed the pain aside. He pushed all other thoughts aside. Dispatch Daunger. That was all that was important. Winning this joust.

Griffin grabbed the lance from Carlton and whirled Adonis, spurring him on. No hesitancy. Just letting the horse and the lance become one with him. The roar of the crowd thrummed in his ears, a distance boom of thunder. His heart hammered in his chest.

Daunger came closer. Closer. His lance aimed at Griffin’s chest.

Griffin leaned in slightly. He would not be denied. Not this time. He was rewarded by striking Daunger near his stomach, Daunger’s lance struck his arm, succeeding in aiding the thrust forward. Griffin’s body twisted slightly, enough force behind the strike to throw Daunger up and out of his saddle.

Griffin’s lance pushed him back as Daunger’s steed continued on. Daunger fell back into the dirt and dust as Griffin rode past him.

Griffin rounded the opposite end. When he saw Daunger lying on the ground, he straightened. The roar of the crowd was thunderous, drowning out all else. He lifted his visor and waited until Daunger staggered to his feet.

As he rode forward, his body in rhythm with Adonis, he realized something was wrong with his arm. If he lifted it even a little bit, shooting pain erupted through his limb. He held it against his stomach and left the field of honor.

Something was wrong. As Layne watched Griffin ride out of the field of honor, she saw the way he held his arm close to his stomach.

“Damn,” Colin muttered, shaking his head.

Layne couldn’t tear her gaze from Griffin’s disappearing back. The next thing she knew, she was moving through the crowd.

“Layne!” Frances called.

She didn’t stop. She squeezed between two farmers, skirted a child racing by. Griffin was hurt. When she cleared the spectators, her walk turned into a run. Tingles of trepidation shivered along her spine. She ran through long stalks of grass. When she finally burst through to the clearing, she saw Adonis outside the white tent. She didn’t stop; she brushed the tent flap aside and stepped in.

Griffin whirled. He had already removed his helmet and neck armor and was working on the buckles for his backplate. His blonde hair was damp and hung about his head in wet curls. “What do you want?” His voice was cold.

“You’re hurt.” She stepped inside the tent and the flap closed behind her.

“It is nothing.”

She ignored him. “Sit here.” She indicated his mat.

“So it is easier for you to stab me in the back?”

She winced, but kept her voice light. “If I wanted to do that, I wouldn’t need you to sit.” She lifted his arm to unbuckle the straps holding the plates together.

He grimaced and let out a growl of pain. “I don’t need your help.”

“Of course not. But I would like to help you.”

“Carlton will help me when he finishes gathering the lances and returns to the tent.”

She ignored his comment and looked into his eyes. “It’s your arm.”

He clenched his lips and looked away, but sat on the mat.

Layne quickly removed his breastplate and backplate, carefully setting them aside. Then, she moved to the hurt arm. He had already removed his gauntlets. She removed the vambrace and then the rerebrace.

She sat back for a moment, staring at him. The way he held his arm, immobile and against his side, was not a good sign. “Where does it hurt?” She leaned in to untie the doublet.

“My entire arm.”

She nodded. “You were hit twice in your shoulder.” She opened the doublet revealing his firm chest.

He hissed in pain.

She tucked her hand beneath his hairline and ran it gently across his upper back to his shoulder. His body tensed as soon as she touched it. There was a large bump in the back of his shoulder. Even with that little contact, she felt how deformed the joint was and how swollen. She knew what it was. Her father had been prone to these injuries when she was young. She had seen Colin fix it many times. Frances had the same type of injury once. “Can you get your arm out of your doublet?”

“Of course.” The answer sounded more like determination than an ability to do the simple task. He took a deep breath and lifted his arm.

Layne pulled the doublet down his arm and off quickly.

He ground his teeth and muffled a heady cry.

She looked at him. “Are you all right?”

This time, he could only nod and didn’t look her in the eye.

Layne leaned forward, inspecting his shoulder. She gently ran her fingertips over his arm, up his muscled bicep to his shoulder. The all too familiar lump was there. She felt a twinge of pain and of remorse. She knew what she had to do. “Lie down.”

He did as she asked without any protestations. He closed his eyes.