“Stop it,” Colin ordered harshly.
“He’s amazing,” Layne whispered, remembering how expertly he jousted. But it wasn’t quiet enough. All of her brothers turned to her in disbelief. “He deserved to win this tournament!” she exclaimed. “You can’t deny that.”
Colin grit his teeth. He leaned in close to her. “We better think of something before the next tournament or all of us, Father included, are out on the street. And winter is coming.”
Winter. That cold biting monster was a death sentence with no home to shelter them. She looked at Michael. For all of them.
From across the field, she saw Griffin riding Adonis, coming toward his tent. Just the sight of him in full plate mail gave her a breathless anticipation. He was magnificent. Strong, confident and talented. The feel of his hot lips as they claimed hers burst to the forefront of her mind and she blushed. She looked down, hoping her brothers would not notice.
When he drew close to her, he said, “I go to the castle for the celebratory feast. You go help your brothers and Carlton pack.”
Disappointment flooded through her. She’d never been to a feast. Her brothers didn’t like mixing with the nobility. She stepped toward him. “I’d like to go with you to the feast.”
“No,” he said, dismounting Adonis. “I will meet you back at the pavilion later.” He led Adonis to his tent.
Layne scowled, watching him retreat to the Wolfe tent. She turned and was greeted by the confused and disapproving stares of Colin and Frances.
Frances shook his head in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?”
Layne opened her mouth to reply, but Colin cut her off, “Watch yourself, Layne. He might be amazing, but he is well out of your class.”
Layne glanced back at the white pavilion, but Griffin was gone.
Layne couldn’t help but keep thinking about the feast. Her brothers kept her well sheltered, never allowing her to attend even in the rare few times they had participated in them. But the fact that Griffin had been so abrupt and so commanding in his dismissal of her made her all the more determined that she would attend.
She helped her brothers pack their items as she had done at other tournaments. But as soon as they sent her out of the tent to start packing their horses, she snuck off, heading toward the castle. It was easy enough to sneak away. They wouldn’t be expecting her to do it. She knew she shouldn’t do it, but she just wanted a glimpse. Just a quick look.
She wasn’t foolish. She had taken her dagger, just in case. After the incident with Osmont, she knew she had to be more cautious. She was very careful to remain in the shadows, moving cautiously.
The castle came into view as she cleared the forest, its tall towers stretching high into the sky. The drawbridge was lowered and the portcullis raised, inviting visitors inside for the feast. She entered without incident and entered the Keep. It wasn’t hard to find the Great Hall. Harp music and drums sounded from an open large wooden double door. As she approached, she heard laughter and murmured talking.
The room was packed. Every table was filled. Peasants stood around the walls of the spacious room. She easily joined them, scanning the room for Griffin. Serving girls scurried amidst the tables, placing trays of bread. Often the hand of a seated man would roam over their bottoms but she could see they were very well versed in ignoring them.
Layne continued to look for Griffin in the crowded hall. Men shoved food into their mouths, laughing. Someone jostled her from behind and she glanced over her shoulder to see a peasant woman. The woman looked away from her with a mumbled apology. Layne turned back to the scene before her.
Musicians played in the space at the front of the Great Hall near the raised dais. Seated at the center of the dais was the lord of the castle. Lord Frederick, the host of the Norfolk tourney. The seat next to his was empty. That should have been Griffin’s spot. As the winner of the tournament, his seat would be in the place of honor next to the host. Where was he? She looked around the room. There was so much activity and so many knights and nobles. She craned her head this way and that, searching the room.
“There he is.”
A hand pointed from beside her. She glanced over to see Ethan standing next to her. She followed his direction, her heart beating madly in her chest. Griffin would be in the center of a group of men, speaking about his prowess, relating stories of his skill, basking in the glory of his victory. But what she saw was nothing she was prepared for.
Griffin stood in the center of a group of women. One beautiful blonde gazed at him in adoration and touched his arm in familiarity. At his other side, a brunette laughed and ran her hand along his chest.
Layne’s throat closed. It wasn’t what she expected. These noble women placing their hands on him, laughing with him. And Griffin in the center of it all, looking warmly at each of them. He belonged there.
And she didn’t. She absently touched the material of her breeches, gazing at the velvet of their beautiful dresses. She ran a hand over an errant lock as she looked at their perfectly styled and shining hair.
And he didn’t want her here. Because he was embarrassed of her. A lump rose in her throat. Of course he wouldn’t want her here.
Ethan chuckled. “He certainly enjoys being the center of all that attention.”
She wasn’t good enough for him. Her throat closed and her chest felt heavy. She whirled and raced out of the Great Hall, trying to escape. She didn’t belong with him, in his life. She didn’t fit in. She had never fit in. She was foolish to think there could be anything more. He had warned her not to come. Colin had warned her she was not in his class. What had she expected?
“Layne!”
Layne didn’t stop for Ethan’s call. She raced out of the Keep, the cool air slapping her face. She battled the disappointment and the failure tightening around her heart, clenching her stomach tight.
Before she reached the drawbridge, Ethan grabbed her arm, halting her. She whirled, yanking it free.
Ethan stared at her, the question in his eyes replaced by understanding and then sympathy.
Layne furiously blinked back the tears burning her eyes. She pushed back the pain in her chest. She lifted her chin and met his gaze.
“You didn’t expect to find that.”
She shook her head.
“You thought he would be here, waiting for you.”
She shook her head more vehemently.
“You thought that because you were under his protection, he cared for you.”
It was like a dagger to her chest. She had thought that maybe… maybe he cared for her. Had feelings for her, yes. He had kissed her, after all! Had talked about marriage! She dropped her chin to her chest. How many other women had he kissed?
Ethan took her hands into his. “Griffin has always been the gallant knight who would protect any woman. But that doesn’t mean he cares for them. He has too much responsibility to think about. Women have always come second to winning tournaments.”
She looked down and ran a sleeve across her nose. “It’s not the winning. I think… I came here expecting to see him…” She shrugged. “Glorified. Honored.”
“But not by all those women.”
She couldn’t speak because of the thick lump in her throat. No, not by women. She hadn’t even considered...
“You know, when I feel a little down, nothing helps more than swinging a sword.”
She shook her head, grateful that her long locks hid her pain. “Griffin said I was not allowed.”
Ethan squeezed her hand. “He’s not here, is he?”
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to him. No, he wasn’t there. He was busy with all those other women. Letting them touch him. The image of the beautiful blonde running her hand over his arm flashed like a burning burst of sunlight in her mind. She couldn’t change who she was. “No,” she replied softly. “He’s not.”
Ethan grinned and pulled her out of the castle, leading her over the drawbridge.
Chapter Eighteen
> Griffin’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. The moon was very high in sky, starting its descent. He had stayed at the feast much too long. There was a lot to do. But those woman wouldn’t let him go. Finally, he had to sneak away.
He needed to be on the road by dawn to make it to Woodstock. Woodstock. That was one tournament he was not looking forward to participating in. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Richard. Or Jacquelyn.
Jacquelyn.
He had not thought of her in years. She had been the loveliest women he had ever seen. Glorious blonde hair, always perfect and neatly braided or tucked beneath a veil. Brown eyes that he thought were warm and sincere. He shook his head at that. He had believed her to be everything a proper lady should be. But she had been nothing like she appeared. Not perfect and not warm. She had been kind to him when she believed he was first in line for the castle and lands. But when she discovered Richard was the rightful heir, he discovered her true nature. It had taken her exactly one week to get Richard into bed with her. He remembered she told him she was never in love with him. That he wasn’t good enough for her.
So he had set out to prove himself, to prove to her, that he was good enough. And the tournament had become his entire life. He had missed Richard’s wedding because of a tournament. He had defied his father’s orders to return.
That had been two years ago.
He pushed the thought of his family quickly from his mind and found that it was much easier to do when he thought of Layne. She was nothing like Jacquelyn. Her eyes were so large and so infinitely more pure. He’d never forget how they lit up when he performed a feat of strength, like when he had splintered a piece of the quintain.
He chuckled softly. But it wasn’t her eyes that kept him up at night. It was thoughts of her soft lips.
He saw his white tent in the distance and quickened his step. He had an intense desire just to see her. She would probably be sleeping. What would she do if he woke her with a gentle kiss? What would she do if…?
He shook his head. He knew he would do nothing. Carlton was sleeping inside the tent also.
Prickles raced across his neck as he slowed. Her brothers’ tent was still up. They should have been long gone on the road to Woodstock.
Griffin’s hand instinctively dropped to the handle of his weapon. He approached the tent cautiously, scanning. His nerves were on end. They could all be sleeping. But he knew that was not likely. What could have postponed their departure?
His gaze lingered on the Fletcher tent. Everything seemed in order. All packed and ready for the trip. The horses were tethered to a nearby tree. His gaze swung to his own tent. Adonis whinnied at his approach. Griffin put a hand on the horse’s neck to soothe him. Then, he entered the tent. Carlton slept peacefully on his mat.
Dread slithered through Griffin. Layne’s mat was empty.
He was about to shake Carlton to rouse him and ask him where Layne was when he heard a soft call in the distance coming from the field of honor. He hesitated and gazed out in the direction of the field as if he could see it from where he stood. Trees and darkness limited his vision. It hadn’t been a cry for help. It had been…
He began walking toward the field. Was it Layne? Was she with her brothers? Who could be practicing this late?
Another holler rose. Not a holler for help, but a group cry as if to encourage someone. He made his way through the trees to the field. When he emerged, he saw two people in the field. One he recognized instantly as Layne. Her long hair was pulled back in a braid. She held a sword out before her, toward her opponent.
Two men and a boy lounged against the fence, calling out direction to her. Her brothers.
Griffin stalked across the expanse to the field. As he neared and recognized her combatant, his jaw clenched. Hard.
“Watch his back swing!” Colin advised.
Back swing, Griffin thought. A woman advised to watch out for a back swing!
Layne swung the sword at her opponent who backed away. She suddenly lunged out with her foot, catching him behind his foot. He went down and she put her sword to his throat.
Her brothers exploded with excitement.
Griffin was not so amused. When he ducked beneath the plank of the fence to enter the field, their excitement died.
When Layne spotted him, she backed a step and immediately dropped the sword.
Ethan climbed to his feet with his usual smirk on his lips. Griffin didn’t stop. He delivered a brutal blow to Ethan’s jaw that sent him spinning to the ground.
“Griffin!” Layne called and rushed to Ethan’s side, kneeling beside him.
At Ethan’s side. Griffin’s hands curved into balls. His anger was irrational and all consuming. “What do you think you are doing, Farindale?” he demanded.
Ethan sat back on his bottom. He ran a hand across his lip. His fingers came back wet and darkly stained. He shrugged. “Allowing Layne to have a good time. It’s more than you do.”
Griffin’s jaw clamped down tighter and he took a step toward Ethan.
Layne stood in front of him, blocking his path. His gaze swung to his charge. She had disobeyed him. She had been sword fighting with Ethan! And laughing. Laughing with another man, having fun! “You were not to be in the field of honor,” he said in a calm voice that completely belied the inner fury churning inside him.
Instead of doing the wise thing and withdrawing to leave the field, Layne stood facing him. There was something in her eyes that he was too angry to recognize or acknowledge. “How was the feast?”
His jaw clenched. “Hear you nothing that I say, woman? Your place is not to wield swords or cross them with a man.”
“What is my place?” she demanded.
“I told you your duties when you first came to my tent. I was very clear on what you were not to do.”
Ethan stood. “Griffin –”
Griffin did not take his gaze from Layne. His anger seared through his entire body. “You are not to be here with him.”
Ethan’s eyebrows rose.
“But you can do whatever you want,” Layne countered.
“What is that supposed to mean? Of course I can. I am a man. You are a woman! Act like one.”
Layne’s mouth dropped slightly. Then closed with a vicious snap. “And how does a woman act? Am I to fawn over you and your great accomplishments like every women at that feast? Should I touch you and gaze at you with adoration? Should I praise you and run my hands over your strong arms?”
Griffin’s scowl was fierce. “You were at the feast? I told you not to go.”
“So I couldn’t see them! So I couldn’t see how you smiled at them and encouraged them and gave them hope.”
“It has nothing to do with hope. It is how a knight treats a woman. Kindly. Chivalrously. And if you acted like a woman, you would know that.”
Her cheeks flamed red and her lips thinned.
His gaze swept her. “You should wear a dress, not those ridiculous breeches.”
“That is quite enough, Wolfe,” Colin ordered, stalking across the field. “You can’t tell my sister what to wear.”
“You should tell her!” Griffin roared. “I shouldn’t have to!”
"What happened to being perfect the way I am?” Layne demanded, her fists balled at her side. "You go to one feast and suddenly I'm not good enough.”
Ethan stepped up beside Layne, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. “A knight does not insult a woman.”
Griffin’s anger surged at seeing him touch Layne. What else had they done?
Layne surged forward past Ethan to stand toe to toe with Griffin. “And would it please you if I wore one of those silly snoods on my hair?”
“Yes! And give up doing things a man does! Be the fairer sex for once in your life!”
“Why?” she demanded, her voice thick. “For what end? So I could receive your hope? Your attention?”
A rush of anger and desperation and betrayal crested over Griffin and he grabbed her arms. “How am
I to present you to my family when you are dressed like that? When you fight like a man?”
Colin and Ethan were on him immediately, pulling him away from Layne.
Griffin struggled in their hold, trying to wrench his arms free. Frances joined them, pulling him back away from her.
He saw the tears in her large eyes reflected in the moonlight.
He fought to get free. He had hurt her. And he had meant to do it. He was trying to teach her to be a woman and here she stood, fighting Ethan. Ethan, for the love of God! Ethan, the man who could smile and women would drop their clothes. Had Layne been alone with him? His mind raced, clouded by fury. “How am I to explain to my brother, to my father, that you use weapons like a knight? That you wear breeches and tunics like a boy? That you unhorsed me at tournament!” He yanked his arms free. His breathing came heavy. The accusation was out for all to hear. He was not good enough. He was sure that word had reached his brother and his father. They would scorn him, laugh at him. Even if he won every tournament from now until his death, it would never change the fact that he had lost to Layne. Had he been trying to change her so they would never believe it?
For a long moment, Layne just stared at him. “You won’t have to. I’m going back with my brothers.”
Panic engulfed the anger inside him, drowning it. It clenched his chest tight. Leaving? “No.” The word was more a gasp. Then, he straightened and calmed. Rationality took over like a blanket to hide his pain. "Not until they can pay me back.” He was in control once again. His anger gone at the thought of losing her.
Layne looked at Colin. Griffin followed her gaze.
Colin shook his head.
“I can loan you the coin,” Ethan said.
Layne turned to Ethan.
“Stay out of this,” Griffin warned in a low growl. The prospect of having her indebted to Ethan made Griffin furious. And something else. Something he couldn't put his finger on.
“No woman should be treated like this. You speak of chivalry and gallantry toward women and all you’ve shown Layne is humiliation. I won’t stand for it.”
My Noble Knight Page 13