My Noble Knight

by Laurel O'Donnell

  It would have been horrible. It would have been unbearable. But she would have done it. She would have endured all of it if to give Michael back his fingers, to forgo Colin’s injury.

  A crunching sound made her lift her head. She scanned the area in front of her, but didn’t see anything. She was sure she heard something. Like the crunch of leaves or a branch. She slowly turned her head. It was hard to distinguish if someone was there in the dark. She saw Griffin’s white tent just down stream of them.

  Nothing.

  Then she saw a shadow moving toward Griffin’s tent. What could someone want at such a late hour?

  She straightened. The saboteur! It had to be!

  She shot to her feet. She had to stop them. Indecision plagued her. She could rush over and confront whoever it was, but she knew there could be several men involved. She was afraid she might not be able to stop them by herself. She ducked back into her tent. Frances would help her. She moved to his mat and reached out for him, but felt only blankets. He wasn’t there. He must have been relieving himself or unable to sleep. She glanced back at the tent flap. She didn’t have time to find him.

  She looked at Colin. He wouldn’t be able to help. Not with his leg injured.

  She glanced at Michael. She would never risk his life again. Nothing was worth that.

  Layne stood, placing a hand over the dagger in her belt. She would have to stop him. She ducked back outside and quickly moved toward Griffin’s pavilion, being careful not to make any noise. As she approached, she couldn’t see anyone there. Maybe she had made a mistake. Maybe it was just another knight walking back to his tent.

  Maybe.

  Layne moved closer. She crouched, careful of her steps, placing one foot delicately forward and then the other.

  Against the white of the tent, she saw a shadow sit up.

  Layne squatted down and froze. She was about halfway between the tents. She watched the shadow. He was doing something near where Griffin’s weapons were.

  She moved slowly forward, continuing to crouch as she moved. She had to come up behind him. She had to surprise him.

  She circled around, keeping the shadow in her line of sight. She had no doubt it was a man. Carefully, she slid the dagger from her belt. She moved on the tips of her toes, silently, careful to move her foot from spot to spot until she was behind him.

  Suddenly, he stopped and lifted his head, looking around from side to side like a deer in the line of a hunter’s bow.

  She crouched down, and hid the dagger in the folds of her tunic so it wouldn’t reflect the moonlight. After a long moment, he cautiously returned to his work. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she let it out in a slow exhale. She licked her lips and began to move in a bent position. She was almost upon him. What she intended to do when she reached him, she had no idea.

  Her heart beat madly, pounding like a drum in her chest. She stood over him, holding the dagger. What could she do? Stab him? Call out?

  In the end it was the moonlight that betrayed her. Her shadow washed across the ground and he whirled.

  She lifted the blade. The same light that had betrayed her now guided her as it washed over familiar features. She gasped, “Frances!” and immediately lowered the blade.

  “Layne,” Frances whispered. “Thank the Lord! I thought it was Wolfe. Help me.”

  Layne stepped up beside her brother, looking over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  Griffin’s weapons lay before him, but they were untouched. Frances held leather reins in one hand. He put a dagger to the reins.

  Layne grabbed his elbow and jerked his hand away. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s the only way,” Frances said, shrugging her hand off of him and putting the blade to the leather. He began to saw.

  “Stop it!” Layne said. “You can’t do this. It’s wrong!”

  “Wrong? It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that I win. I can’t lose!”

  She held his arm. “This isn’t the way. We’ll practice all night, if we must. But you can’t sabotage him.”

  He shoved her away. “I have to,” he growled. “You saw him! I can’t beat him. I can’t defeat him. And I have to! I have to.” He turned back to the reins.

  “Frances,” she said firmly. “This isn’t the way. I beat him. You can, too.” And then the realization hit her. A chill of doom shrouded her and she shivered. “You did it. That was why I was able to defeat him. You cut the leather stirrup.”

  Frances grit his teeth. “Yes. You won because of what I did. And now, I have to win. So I have to do this.”

  Layne shook her head. She hadn’t defeated Griffin fairly. She had known deep in her heart that she couldn't have beaten Griffin, but she had never thought her brother had sabotaged him. “Stop,” she said and grabbed the reins. “You can’t do this.”

  “Can’t do this? Are you thinking of the family or are you thinking of Wolfe? I saw the way you look at him. Even dressing in a dress to get his attention. Where are your loyalties?”

  Surprised and hurt at the truth in his words, she pulled her hand back. “This isn’t honorable, Frances. What would Colin say?”

  Frances looked at her. His expression was cold and distant. “He told me to do it.”

  Shocked, Layne stepped back. What was happening? This couldn’t be! Not Colin, too!

  “He knows where his loyalties lay. The family is all that is important now. We have to win this joust. Any way we can.” Frances began to saw his dagger into the reins.

  These were the reins that guided the horse, not the cinch or the stirrup leather. If Griffin couldn’t control Adonis, he might be seriously hurt or thrown and injured that way. How could she just stand there and let Frances do this? It was as good as cutting the reins herself. She opened her mouth to stop him. But how could she? They had to win. They needed this purse to buy the small farm where they could all live in the winter. They would have food, shelter. Warmth. Michael and her father would be taken care of. They would all survive. Where were her loyalties?

  She closed her mouth.

  Finally, Frances rose.

  Layne stared at the reins on the ground, cut and damaged. Tears rose in her eyes. Every instinct in her being cried out at the injustice of it all. To sacrifice Griffin for her family wasn’t right, but what could she do? What could she do?

  Her stare shifted to Frances; he was just a dark shadow now. She could just make out the outline of his face, darker shadows against lighter ones. The saboteur. All this time. He had been right beside her. Her mind screamed at the dishonor of it. And yet, he was her brother. It wasn't right!

  She should tell Griffin.

  Frances walked away, back toward their tent.

  She looked at Griffin’s tent. Indecision plagued her. She should tell Griffin about the cut reins. But that was how this all started. With her doing something she had no place doing. By taking the field of honor, she had set this all into motion. And now, it was time for her to undo that.

  She stood for a moment longer, torn. It wasn’t her place. It wasn’t a woman’s place to warn a man that the saboteur had struck. She turned to walk away. Griffin had tried all this time to teach her a woman’s place. A woman’s place was not in the affairs of men. Tears stung her eyes, wavering the darkness before her.

  He had tried to teach her that women should not know about swordplay or jousting or any of the concerns of men. That women were just docile and amiable and compliant.

  She froze. But he had failed. He had failed because she was not like that. And she would not stand by and let this happen.

  She turned back to the reins. This was wrong. It was not the right way to win. And everything inside her, everything she was, could not let this happen. Not even if it meant losing the joust. Not even if it meant spending the winter in the open.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she lifted her chin in determination. Because she knew what she was going to do. It was the only thing she c
ould do.

  Layne glanced over her shoulder looking for Frances, but he was all the way across the clearing, almost to the family tent. She saw his silhouetted form moving toward their tent. She waited a moment more until he ducked beneath the flap and disappeared into the tent.

  Then she bent down to the reins. She ran a hand across her cheek, wiping away the tears, and picked up the reins. She ran her finger along the flat side until she found the cut. She looked at it. Yes. It was just like before. Cut enough so that it would fail and rip and be mistaken for a tear. But Griffin knew of the sabotage. He knew. Would he have caught this if she left it? It didn’t matter. Because she had no intention of leaving it.

  She stood and turned...

  ...to find Griffin standing there. The moonlight shone on his face dully, making him appear pale. “Layne?” His gaze dropped to her hands. He took the reins from her limp and trembling fingers. He inspected them, running his hand along them until they snagged on the cut.

  Slowly, he lifted his gaze to pin her to the spot. It was like a physical slap. She stepped back.

  His brow scowled and he lifted dark eyes to her. “It’s you. You are the saboteur.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Griffin stared at her in disbelief, partially because he didn’t want to be right and partially because he feared that he was. The reins were cut, the very reins she was holding!

  “No,” she gasped. “I didn’t cut them.”

  “Then what are you doing here, holding them?”

  “I was taking them away. I knew they were cut. And I didn’t want you hurt.”

  “Enough!” he growled. “Enough of your lies.”

  She reeled as though he had struck her.

  He stalked forward and she backed away. He was angry with himself for believing her, angry because he had succumbed to her lies. Angry that he still wanted to believe them, even now when the proof was in his hand! She was the saboteur. He held out the reins. “You cut these, knowing what would happen.”

  “I didn’t cut them. I came here because I saw someone.”

  “No more, Layne. No more lies. I have the proof I was looking for. I knew you couldn’t be trusted. From the first moment you took your brother’s place on the field of honor.” He whirled away from her.

  “You never looked for proof! It’s what you’ve always wanted to see! You’ve blamed me from the beginning! You refuse to believe that a woman could be better at something than a man. You refuse to believe that I could be.”

  “You’re not!” He turned to her thrusting out the reins. “And this is proof.”

  “I tried to stop him. I tried to make him stop. But he wouldn’t listen, either. He wouldn’t listen to me. Just like you. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know --” Her voice caught and she fought to hold down a sob. She blinked back the glimmering tears in her eyes.

  Griffin had seen Gwen use tears to soften him, but Layne’s tears pulled on his heart. He wanted to give in to her reason; he wanted to believe her. But he stood before her with the cut reins in his hand; the physical proof told him she was lying. His fingers tightened around the reins with conviction. His jaw clenched. Betrayal burned through his body. All this time he had been worried about her and Ethan, but this... This was a worse treachery. She was honorless.

  She ran a sleeve across her nose. “They’re my family. And I would never betray them.” Her body shook with a repressed sob. “But I can’t betray you, either.” She looked down as if embarrassed. “I love you, Griffin.”

  Startled, Griffin reared back. She loved him? But how...? Why...? Then the anger crashed down again, threatening to wipe away any softness that might have started to creep into his heart. He had heard those words before. From Jacquelyn when she was manipulating him. She had said those very words to him one night before she took Richard into her bed. But this was Layne. Layne Fletcher. The one woman he so very much wanted to believe. The one woman who had never done or said a deceitful thing in all the time she had been with him. He squeezed his fist. Except this. Had she been untruthful the entire time she was with him? From the very beginning?

  “They’re desperate to win,” she whispered, her shoulders slumped. “We are desperate to win. It’s our last chance. Frances’s last chance. But this isn’t the way. This is wrong.”

  Griffin’s gaze swept her. The sorrow in her voice pushed back the anger that had been storming inside him. There was genuine regret in her voice. A true pain in her words.

  “I’ll go to the dungeon, if you want me to, if you don’t believe me.”

  The dungeon. Griffin had never wanted that for her. Not for a woman. Even one that was dishonest.

  She stepped past him.

  He looked down at the leather straps in his hand. “If you did not do it, who did? Who cut them?”

  She didn’t look up at him. An abyss of secrets separated them. “I can’t tell you.” And she moved off, toward her own tent.

  Griffin ran his thumb over the straps, scowling. The evidence was here. It had been in her hands. She must have cut them. She was the only one here. Was it only in his mind that he wanted her to be innocent? The proof was right in front of him.

  She must have cut them. She... What had she said? Something about her family? And being desperate. Every knight was desperate to win. She couldn't tell him who had cut them. If she didn't cut them, who would she protect? Who...?

  He stiffened with realization. Her brothers. Family. They were the only ones she would do anything to protect. Tingles raced across the nape of his neck. She couldn’t betray them. They were desperate to win. They. Her brothers. Griffin’s scowl deepened.

  Layne dropped to her bottom outside of their pavilion, and wept. She couldn’t do it. It went against everything she knew to be right. Everything she thought she was. But now she was unfaithful to her family. Where was the honor in that? Where was her loyalty? The tears continued to fall.

  “Layne?”

  She recognized Colin’s voice, but couldn’t even look at him. “You told him to cut them,” she whispered in a ragged voice. She adored Colin, revered him as honorable. She felt a deep level of sadness she had never felt in her entire life. She couldn’t believe he had told Frances to do something so dishonorable. That was the worst betrayal of all.

  The silence stretched.

  “What did you do?”

  Layne looked up at Frances. She didn’t bother to wipe away the raw streaks of tears lining her face. Colin stood beside him. Michael was in back of them, just coming out of the tent. Her family. She stood to her feet. “I told him.”

  “You told him what I did?”

  “Is that what you think I would do?” She wiped at the salty taste that tainted the corners of her lips.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what you would do where Wolfe is concerned,” Frances said, brushing past Colin to face her in growing anger.

  “I told him about the cut reins,” Layne said with more conviction. Each word felt like a slice to her heart. Like a betrayal to her family.

  “Why did you do that?” Colin asked, mystified.

  “Because that’s not the way to win. You don’t cheat and risk someone else’s life. You don’t cut the reins!”

  “You’ve ruined our chance,” Frances said softly. “It was our only chance.” His fists clenched and he stepped toward her. “You’ve ruined our chance at winning because of your feelings for Wolfe!”

  “It has nothing to do with my feelings for Griffin and everything to do with honor! I couldn’t live knowing that we won by deceit. I would rather rot in a dungeon cell.”

  “I hope your high morals will feed us this winter. I hope your chivalry will keep us warm when we are out on the road!” Frances’s words were biting sarcasm. “Where is your loyalty to our family! We are what is important! And now you’ve endangered us all!”

  Colin stepped between them. “Enough Frances.”

  “This is all because of you!” Frances continued his tirade. “We are in more
debt than we can ever repay! We’ll never win this tourney now because you told Wolfe! Our family would be better if you weren’t in it!”

  Layne’s mouth dropped in a gasp. She took a step back as if he had hit her. He was right. He was so right. She whirled and dashed away into the night.

  “Layne!” Colin called.

  But she didn’t stop running. She didn’t belong there. She never had.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Layne!”

  Griffin heard Colin’s call and emerged from the tent to see three shadows standing near the Fletcher tent.

  One of them separated and ran into the darkness.

  Griffin jogged over to the tent.

  “Get out of here, Wolfe!” Frances snapped as he neared.

  Griffin ignored him to look at Colin. “What’s wrong?”

  “Family quarrel,” Frances growled. “Mind your own business.”

  Griffin knew for a fact the man he sought now stood before him. Michael couldn’t have cut the reins with his injured hand. Colin couldn’t have walked far from the tent with his wounded leg. Griffin glared at Frances. The saboteur. He stifled the burning impulse to bury his fist straight into France’s face. He clenched his hand, but left his arm hanging down by his side. “Where’s Layne?” he demanded.

  “She ran off,” Colin told him.

  Griffin whirled to look into the night. She had been hurt by his insult. He had seen it in the tears on her face, heard it in her voice.

  “I sent Michael after her,” Colin said, striking his own wounded leg viciously. “She was really upset.”

  A sense of dread tightened the muscles in Griffin’s entire body.

  Lightning split the sky in the distance.

  “She’ll be fine,” Frances insisted.

  Griffin spun on him. “A woman alone in the dark? Sometimes you Fletchers forget that Layne is a woman. And there are worse things she might face alone in the dark.” He pointed at Colin. “Wake Carlton. Tell him to gather as many men as he can to look for her.”