My Noble Knight (32 page)

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?

Griffin reached down for his lance. He charged down the field, holding the lance upright before lowering it. He knows all my moves. He knows how I joust. He held the lance couched in his arm.

They struck almost simultaneously. Griffin felt the impact push him back against the cantle of the saddle. Griffin’s strike again hit Richard’s shoulder. Pain flared up from Griffin’s side. He grimaced as the numbness spread through his body before fading.

Same thing, he thought. I hit the same place. And then Layne’s words came to him.
‘You aim for the stomach and then at the last moment, shift to the shoulder.’
Two shoulder hits. And Richard knew it. He knew what to expect. He was shielding his arm, turning it slightly away from Griffin’s hits so it slid off.

Griffin grit his teeth. Time to change strategies. Keep it aimed at his stomach. He took the lance from Carlton and spurred Adonis down the lists. He moved the lance down from the ready position and couched it, aiming it dead center at Richard’s stomach.

The horses closed.

Griffin leaned in and feigned a slight movement upwards of his lance, hoping to take advantage of Richard’s expectations. Richard took the bait, raising his arm to deflect it. Instead, Griffin kept the lance low, delivering a solid, lance-splintering strike to Richard’s mid-section. The blow pushed Richard up and back. Because Griffin struck first, Richard’s lance missed him altogether.

Griffin reined in Adonis and turned to find Richard in the dirt on his buttocks, mud splattered up over his shiny armor. He cantered Adonis down the side of the field, looking up toward the castle. His father stood in the open window of his room, watching.

Griffin grinned inside his helmet. Whatever his father had planned, it had just failed.

Layne could barely contain herself. She placed her hands together and grinned proudly. She kept her lips pressed together so she would keep her joy silent. Everyone in the berfrois was silent.

Prince Edward stood to his feet. “Well done, Sir Griffin. Well done!” He clapped. All around him joined in.

Gwen leaned over to Layne. “I don’t imagine Richard will be happy about that.”

Layne glanced at Jacquelyn who sat in Richard’s chair. She leaned back in utter disappointment. “Richard did a marvelous job,” Layne said to her to ease her displeasure. “At least he wasn’t hurt.”

Jacquelyn glanced at her with disgust, shot to her feet and left the stand.

Griffin rode by the berfrois. Layne smiled at him and he bowed his head before cantering Adonis out of the field.

“Well, now we have our two best jousters left,” Gwen said. “Who will you be favoring?”

All of her joy evaporated. Her smile slid away. Dread slithered across Layne’s shoulders as she looked at Frances standing beside her. They had not said more than a few words to each other after his damning outburst. His gaze was locked on Griffin’s retreating back. His jaw was tight, but there was something in his eyes that Layne didn’t recognize, something sad.

L
ayne sat outside the tent,
running a cloth along Frances’s armor. He hadn’t said a word to her all day. She knew he was nervous about the final joust. The joust with Griffin that would decide the tournament champion. And the fate and future of their entire family. As much as she wanted to root for Frances, she wanted Griffin to win, too. She sighed softly. Here she was, silently cheering for her own future and against it all at the same time.

“Good day, Layne.”

Layne looked up to see Ethan standing before her. She stood up. It had been a while since she had spoke to him. “Good day, Ethan.” She noticed he held the reins of his horse. She also noticed the saddlebags on the rump of the animal.

He nodded when she glanced at him. “It’s time for me to head home.”

“Home? Don’t you want to see who wins the tournament?”

“Either way, there will be heartache that I don’t want to share.” He smiled. “I’m a bit selfish that way.” He shrugged. “I haven’t seen my family in a very long time. And, well, spending time with you and your brothers has gotten me missing them.”

Layne nodded. She certainly understood that. “If your family is anything like mine, when you get there you might wish you were back here.”

Ethan chuckled.

He was very handsome. His eyes sparkled in the sun and dimples appeared in his cheeks. But Layne saw him more as a brother. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me,” Layne said.

“You don’t have to.”

“You know we will pay back the loan as soon as we are able.”

Ethan shook his head. “Your debt has been settled.”

Layne scowled at him.

“Griffin has paid the debt.” He lifted his shoulders. “He said he didn’t want you in debt to me. And he can be... convincing.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“I imagine he didn’t want you to know. It’s my going away present to him. And to you. Griffin has been my friend for a very long time. And despite all he’s done, I still consider him a friend. He’s a good man, Layne. He could use a woman like you.”

“I know that. But he still wants his proper lady.” She knew she could be that and more.

“Convince him otherwise. I think inside, he wants you to.” Ethan laughed softly. “He’s always leaned more toward the traditional.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “And you are anything but traditional. I think you will add a spice of flavor to his otherwise boring life.”

Layne grinned at him and shuffled her feet. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

“You’re welcome.”

She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight.

Ethan returned her embrace. “If you are ever in Woodland Hills, come and visit me.”

Layne nodded and watched him walk away before she bent and continued to shine Frances’s armor. She already knew that Ethan was right. Griffin loved her. And that was all she could ask for.

Layne brushed down Frances’s horse, preparing it for the joust. She had inspected and cleaned its hooves. She checked for injuries, but the horse was in perfect condition, more than ready for the joust. She just wasn’t sure that Frances was. She heard him talking to Colin and he sounded very unlike his normal confident self.

Michael and Colin were inside the tent, trying to reassure him and get his conviction back up.

The final joust. Layne knew that Frances had to win. Her joyful mood had rapidly changed to apprehension. She glanced in the direction of Griffin’s tent. She wanted to go to him and congratulate him, but she knew how inappropriate that would be. She belonged here with her family. She should be encouraging Frances, not longing for Griffin.