Jayce’s pride rose to soaring heights, but was deflated by her conscience. She opened her mouth to speak, but Dylan continued.
“But I have no intention of dying. I will defeat Lord Morse in battle and uphold Lady Jayce’s virtue.”
And the way he said it, with vibrancy and conviction, almost made Jayce believe it. His confidence was contagious and warmed Jayce’s heart. After all, he had been the only one to come to her defense. Not even Reese had challenged Morse. She turned her stare to her husband.
His jaw was clenched tight, his blue eyes narrowed. His gaze slid from Dylan’s to meet Jayce’s. For a long, heart-stopping moment, there was cold resolve in his eyes. He would say nothing, could not say anything to persuade the devoted knight to call off the joust.
“Sir Dylan,” Jayce called, knowing that if she couldn’t convince him to stop the joust, no one could. When he turned his brown eyes to her, his gaze softened and a smile brimmed on his lips. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
“I would do so much more,” he vowed. “I would walk to the ends of the earth. I would brave---”
Jayce grinned. “I’m flattered. But this joust is...” She sought the right words, the proper way to tell Dylan he had no chance. But when she saw the smile fade from the young knight’s lips, she faltered. “… it is simply that I...” Jayce floundered, watching a crestfallen look darken Dylan’s face. “It’s not you. It’s the joust. It is...” She glanced at Reese helplessly, imploringly.
“It’s the blood,” Reese supplied. “Her fair senses could not tolerate a drop of your blood being shed.”
“Yes!” Jayce exclaimed. “I find blood repulsive. Especially when it comes from one of my favored knights.”
The smile returned in full force to Dylan’s lips. “My lady flatters me now. I promise that not a drop of my blood shall I spill to the earth to upset you.” Dylan reached for Jayce’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
Jayce glanced at Reese over Dylan’s head to find his scowl deepening. Jayce swallowed, and desperately blurted, “No, Sir Dylan. I want you to call off the joust.”
Dylan froze over her knuckles for a long moment.
Jayce’s insides trembled. If a direct order did not work, she knew there would be no way to stop the joust. He straightened stiffly to face her. “My honor is not worth your life,” Jayce said, and saw the disappointment cloud his eyes.
“I’m sorry, m’lady,” Dylan finally replied. “I will not call off the joust.” He cast an accusing glance at Reese. “Since there is no one man enough to defend you, then I will face Lord Morse, even if I do not have your favor.” He turned and walked rigidly away.
Jayce lifted her hand to stop him, opened her mouth to call to him, to explain that he had her favor, her gratitude, but Reese grabbed her outstretched hand, halting her.
“Give him time to think,” he said. “He may yet call off the joust.”
Jayce savagely pulled her hand free of his hold and turned furious eyes to him. “This was your idea! Now I have insulted the only man who was brave enough to come to my defense, brave enough to defend my honor. Even braver than my own husband.”
Reese drew himself up to his full height, his eyes flashing like lightning. “I am not your husband.”
“Because we did not consummate the marriage? You made a vow before God!”
“I was protecting my sister.”
“And now Dylan is protecting me,” Jayce retorted, tears stinging her eyes. “And he might die because you’re too cowardly to defend me.”
Reese grabbed her shoulders, his fingers curved like claws, his lips drawn back in a feral snarl. “I’m not a coward.”
“Then why won’t you face Morse? Why won’t you protect me?”
“I will not fight my brother.”
Chapter Eleven
Reese watched the dance of emotions play across Jayce’s face. The shock, then understanding, and finally acceptance. But with the acceptance came something else... hurt and resignation. He watched those deep blue eyes shimmer like the sea before she turned her head away. “I don’t know what else to do,” she whispered in an agonized voice that called to Reese’s heart for help, for guidance, for protection.
Reese dropped his hands stiffly to his sides, releasing her shoulders. “This is your problem,” he proclaimed, suddenly angry she had somehow drawn him into this situation, furious she had made him feel guilty when he was nothing of the sort. He turned his back on her and marched down the hallway. He didn’t know how to help her. He didn’t know how to stop the joust, even if it could be stopped, without humiliating Dylan and infuriating his brother.