My Noble Knight (14 page)

He lifted the broken cinch before him until it was silhouetted by the moon. As Layne had surmised, as he had feared, the beginning of the tear was flat and even. Cut.

There was no doubt in his mind. Someone had sabotaged him. Whoever had done this was dangerous. They would stop at nothing to have him lose. Not even if it meant his life.

“Cut?” Layne asked.

Griffin nodded. “Did you see someone cut it?”

“No.”

He stood up before her. He couldn't bring himself to believe that she had cut the cinch. She was not cold hearted enough. And maybe he didn't want to believe that she could be capable of something so dishonorable. He looked down at the stirrup leather in his hand. “Why didn't you tell me about the stirrup leather?”

She swallowed, her skin a pale white in the moonlight. “You told me to stay away from Adonis... it was Carlton’s responsibility. I knew you wouldn't be pleased.” She looked down at the ground with a sigh and added, "I just thought you should know. Even if you got angry with me.”

Griffin’s gaze swept her face. He knew he should be angry with her. She had not followed simple orders. But he couldn't. She had proven herself loyal. She had told him the truth. He was amazed she had found the cuts when Carlton had not. Her eye for detail was remarkable. She was even able to pick out style flaws in the practicing knights. She was very good at it. He should trust her more. She had earned it. She was intelligent and brave. He knew without a doubt that she was not the one sabotaging him.

There was still only one thing bothering him where Layne was concerned. How could he keep her safe?

“I just wanted you to know,” she whispered. “Before something happened.”

He sighed softly. What was he to do with her? She had directly defied him. On a suspicion that could bring harm to him. She wasn’t doing it for her own sake, but for his. Warmth blossomed in his chest as he stared down at her. She knew what she had done would get her in trouble. She knew she had gone against his orders. But she had done it anyway and admitted to him what she had found. That took courage. “Why did you tell me?” A delicate scowl of confusion darkened her brow. He was as confused as she was. “You could have kept the secret and gotten away with it.”

“Someone is trying to sabotage you. It is dishonorable. You needed to know before harm could befall you.”

God’s blood! She was gorgeous. Honorable, truthful, a little mischievous and just downright tempting. How was a man to resist?

“I don’t want you to be hurt.”

As if she could protect him. She was making herself more and more irresistible. He wanted to take her into his arms. He wanted to sample her lips. But she was under his protection. He was trying to show her how a woman acted. He could come up with a million reasons not to kiss her and just one to kiss her.

Because he wanted to.

He nodded and took a step away from her. “You must promise me, Layne. You are not to become involved in this.”

“But –”

“No,” he said firmly, his hand tightening around the stirrup leather. “If there is someone trying to sabotage me, he would not hesitate to harm you if you interfered.”

Her scowl grew fierce and he was reminded of a lioness he had once seen at court.

“I won't stand by and watch you get hurt.”

How he loved her combative nature, how she would fight for those she cared about. Cared about. Did that include him? She cared for him? God’s blood! He grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. “Why must you throw yourself into danger?”

Her gaze moved over his face like a heated caress. Her soft, pliable body pressed against his. “For you.”

With a growl, he gave in, unable to resist her. He pressed his lips to hers, hungry for her touch, ravenous for her mouth. She parted her lips for his exploration. His desperate kiss gave way to a gentle longing. He pulled her closer to him, not able to get enough of her. For him. She did it for him. He ran his hands up into her hair.

She winced and a groan escaped her lips as his fingers brushed too close to the cloth about her head.

Immediately, he pulled back. He was about to apologize for being such an oaf and putting his needs before hers.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, refusing to relinquish him from her embrace.

A slow smile spread over his lips. Must she always beat him? He kissed her lips quickly and stepped back. “You need to rest.”

A groan of disappointment escaped her lips. That was a groan he could tolerate, better then hearing her in pain. He placed an arm about her shoulders to guide her back into the pavilion.

“As do I,” he added. He knew she would relent and put his needs first. She didn't resist then, but allowed him to lead her into the tent. “I battle Osmont on the morrow.”

The sun hid behind large white clouds as if afraid to witness the spectacle below.

Griffin stared down the field of honor at Osmont. His visor was up and he watched with an unsettling calm while Osmont lifted his hands to get the crowd to cheer for him. Griffin heard the cheers and the chants of Osmont’s name, but he paid them no heed.

The commander at arms had just finished announcing the start of the joust and he was walking out of the field.

Griffin waited patiently. A strange calm settled over him.

Osmont turned a sneer to Griffin and pointed down the field at him.

The only image Griffin could see was Osmont hitting Layne in the head with his sword. He quickly pushed the thought from his mind and replaced it with a flash of Osmont flying from his horse as his lance struck him hard in the stomach.

Carlton handed the lance to Griffin. Griffin lowered his visor and took the lance, holding it raised for a long moment. He glared down the list at Osmont. There would be no doubt of the consequences of his actions. He would not win this joust. He spurred Adonis. Adonis needed little encouragement. His horse seemed almost as hungry for this joust as he was. Griffin lowered the lance. He would need only one pass. He planned to take Osmont out so quickly there was no doubt.

Adonis thundered down the field of honor. Griffin’s body moved with his steed, one with the animal. His grip tightened in preparation for the impact. One pass. One pass.

He leaned forward slightly, concentrating.

He felt the glancing blow. Osmont was not going to make this easy.

It all happened in slow motion. Griffin instinctively corrected for the blow he was taking and lunged forward with his own lance, throwing Osmont’s aim off.

Griffin’s lance struck perfectly. Osmont’s shoulder jerked back. He spun around with so much force, he was launched from the saddle. A perfect strike.

Griffin released the lance. As he rode by, Osmont seemed to be suspended, twisted in mid-air for a moment. Adonis raced to the end of the field. Griffin turned in his saddle. Osmont lay on the dusty ground as Griffin rode back to his side of the field.

Osmont flopped in the dirt like a turtle before he gained enough momentum to sit up.

Griffin lifted his face visor. It wasn’t enough. Not enough of a punishment. He slid from Adonis, watching Osmont, silently willing the fallen knight to call for his weapon. His pride would be wounded. He had lost in one pass. The arrogant, pompous knight who had promised victory and swift retribution would call for his sword, Griffin was sure.

Osmont climbed to one knee. His squire appeared at his side, trying to help him to his feet. Osmont pushed the young man away and shouted, “Sword, boy!” The young man sprinted away to his side of the field.

Satisfaction filled Griffin. Carlton was at his side, handing him his weapon with a resigned sigh. Griffin’s hand tightened around the pommel of his sword.

Osmont whipped his sword from his squire’s hand and held it pointed at Griffin.

Griffin didn’t approach. He stood with the tip of his sword pointed down, waiting.

With a howl of rage, Osmont lifted his sword and charged at Griffin.

Griffin swung, deflecting his strike. The clanging of the swords rang through the silent field. He lifted his sword to meet the next swing of Osmont’s weapon. A sharp shearing noise sounded as the swords slid against each other.

Osmont growled and arced another blow. Griffin easily averted it. Let him tire himself, Griffin thought. It was the best way to defeat him. As Osmont’s sword lifted, it caught the sunlight and reflected the light of its silver blade.

Griffin wondered for a brief moment if this was the sword that hit Layne. Layne. Her image flashed to his mind. Blood dripping from her wound, disoriented but standing bravely before her brother. He grit his teeth. His sword came alive in his hands, crashing against Osmont’s blade with stunning force. He swung again, clashing the blades together.

Osmont stumbled back under the barrage.

Griffin lunged, hitting him in the side. As his sword bounced off Osmont’s armor, Osmont tumbled to the ground. Griffin stomped his booted foot on Osmont’s sword arm, pinning it to the ground. With a cry, Griffin raised his sword above his head.

Osmont lifted his free arm to protect himself.

Time stopped. Griffin with his sword raised above his head for the final blow. Osmont cowering and trying to protect himself with a raised arm, fear glimmering in his dark eyes.

Griffin bent and grabbed Osmont’s breast plate, pulling him slightly off the ground. He pushed his face close to Osmont’s. “Yield.”

Osmont’s upper lip trembled in hatred.

“There is nothing I would like more than to run my blade across your neck,” Griffin warned. “Yield or you are a dead man.”

“I yield,” Osmont snapped in contempt.

“Louder. They didn’t hear you.”

“I yield!” Osmont shouted.

Griffin straightened. He stared down at Osmont for a long moment. He wanted with every fiber to run him through. But the rules of the joust were clear. Griffin had not only won, he had defeated him soundly.

He removed his foot from Osmont’s arm and turned to walk away.

The crowd exploded in a cacophony of wild applause and cheers.

Carlton met him halfway across the field, leading Adonis to him.

Griffin took the reins. His blood pounded through his veins, his teeth clenched tight. He had never known such anger.

Carlton grinned proudly at him.

Even his squire’s happiness could not ease his fury. He still wanted to run Osmont through. It wasn't enough. He headed toward the exit. Sweat dripped down his forehead. He removed his helmet, tucking it beneath his arm. He instantly spotted her at the gate.

Layne stood at the fence, Colin and Frances behind her. She smiled with joy and delight. Radiance lit her face. And just like that, his anger was gone, evaporated like the morning dew beneath the hot sun.

Just like that, it was done. One pass. Layne glanced at her brothers. Colin was staring open mouthed. Frances was scowling in disbelief.

She looked back at Griffin as he exited the field of honor. He stared back at her. Tingles raced all the way through her body like a delightful summer breeze. She could barely contain the pride she felt. Griffin was magnificent. One mighty pass. And he had defeated Osmont soundly in hand-to-hand combat. She looked again at her brothers. Colin shook his head. Frances closed his eyes. Slowly, Layne’s smile faded as the implications swept through her. How could her brothers possibly beat someone like that?

Frances looked at her. “You have to find some way for us to beat him.”

At many levels, this upset her. It was dishonorable. They should be able to defeat him based on their own skills, not through trickery or some hidden secret. But there was also something else. Layne couldn’t betray Griffin like that, not even if she knew a trick that would help her brothers win.

“No,” Colin said before she could answer. “You can’t ask that of her. It’s our duty to find some way to defeat him.”

“Did you see that?” Frances asked, sweeping his hand out to the field toward Osmont who stormed off of the field. The defeated knight was followed by his squire who hurried to keep up with him. “How can we hope to defeat him?”

“We’ll find a way,” Colin said. “We’ll practice more.”

Layne nodded in agreement, but she wasn’t sure if all the practice in the world would be enough to defeat Griffin Wolfe.