Until You

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“You are absolutely mad,” Sir Thomas Bolton said to his cousin Rosamund as they rode across the border into Scotland. It was a cold but clear day.

“Why?” she demanded. “Because for once in my life I would do the unthinkable and dare to be the one to choose? I am tired of being told who I shall marry, and ’tis always for someone else’s benefit, not necessarily mine. I was fortunate in Hugh, and again in Owein, but next time? I dare not take the chance. I want to make my own decisions from now on, and I intend to, dear Tom. Besides, I am not particularly interested in being someone’s wife again. I have been a wife one way or another since I was three years of age. I am yet young, and I want to visit King James’ court quite unencumbered by a husband. Perhaps I shall take a lover.”

“You are surely planning some mischief, dear girl, and if you are, you simply must share it with me,” he told her with a wicked grin.

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