My Noble Knight by Laurel O'Donnell Page B

to fight over cleaning up the leftovers.”
    Layne ignored the jeer and tied the sack closed. “It’s one of my duties here. Griffin made sure I understood what my chores would be. Besides,” she sat back on her heels, “he’s not a pig.”
    Frances chuckled. “It’s not me who is the pig. Maybe Michael…” Frances walked up behind her. “We need this purse, Layne,” he whispered.
    She stared at the dying fire pit. “I know.”
    “We only have this tournament and the next. If we don’t win… Well, you know the plan. We need one more win.”
    Layne nodded. “I know the plan,” she whispered. That had been part of the reason she had taken his place on the jousting field. And now, they needed even more coin to get her out of this predicament. “And when you win, I intend for you to make sure Colin still uses it to buy the farm.”
    Frances shook his head. “We need to get you away from Wolfe.”
    Layne stood. “No! Father comes first.”
    Frances opened his mouth to argue, but Layne grabbed his arm. “Griffin treats me well, a little too much like a pampered girl, but I can deal with that. Father… He needs a home. And so do we.”
    Frances closed his eyes and shook his head.
    “Promise me, Frances. We will win and the coin goes to buy the farm.”
    He nodded and mumbled, “We have to win one more tourney. Or we won’t have enough.”
    Layne punched him in the arm. “Are you having doubts?”
    “Wolfe is a practiced knight,” Frances murmured.
    “Oh. So, you’re afraid. That’s why you let the quintain hit you.”
    He looked up startled. Then, his eyes narrowed.
    She shrugged and turned away. “Don’t worry. If I have to take your place again –”
    Frances grabbed her from behind, flipped her over his hip and caught her in a headlock. “You won’t be taking my place ever again. I’m the best knight and you know it.”
    Layne smiled and tugged half-heartedly at his arm.
    “Say it. Who’s the best knight?”
    “Release her.”
    The booming voice startled them both. Frances let her go, keeping a grip on her arm so she didn’t fall.
    Griffin stood like an angry god staring down with stern disapproval at his subjects. His fists were clenched, his eyes icy. Hard and cold. Murderously cold.
    Layne stepped in front of Frances. “It’s okay, Griffin. We were just playing.”
    Griffin’s eyes narrowed. “It is no wonder you do not know how to behave like a woman.”
    Layne’s joy faded under Griffin’s harsh words.
    Frances pushed forward from behind her. “What does that mean?”
    “When your own brother does not treat you as a woman, then you can’t be faulted for your lack of knowledge.”
    Frances shoved her out of the way and lunged at Griffin.
    Griffin caught him and tossed him aside like a rag doll.
    “Stop!” Layne cried and grabbed Griffin’s arm.
    Griffin looked at her. There was something frightening in his tight jaw and his stormy blue eyes. He yanked his arm away from her.
    Frances rose and Layne again rushed forward to stop him, recognizing the anger in her brother’s gaze. She placed two hands on his chest, pushing to keep him back from Griffin. “Go, Frances.”
    “I won’t leave you with this barbarian,” Frances growled.
    Griffin straightened. “Unfortunately, she will remain until you and your brothers are able to pay me back.”
    “It’s all right,” Layne pleaded, pushing Frances back a step. “I’ll be fine.” She shoved him again.
    Frances cast Layne a glance before looking back at Griffin with fury.
    Layne was too familiar with that look. Frances wasn’t going to give it up. “Colin!” she hollered, knowing that alone she wouldn’t be able to stop him.
    Colin emerged from the Fletcher tent as Frances shoved forward again.
    Layne lost ground to him, but pushed with all her power. “Colin!” she cried for help.
    “You know nothing of women, in particular my sister,” Frances ground out. “Why don’t you look at your own manhood before you