“Now it is you who are flirting with me, sir,” she told him with a smile. “I quite like it, Owein.”
“I am only slightly more experienced in the matter of courtship than you, Rosamund,” he admitted. “You know I never thought to have a wife to cherish, or the hope of children of my own. I have as I told you flirted with the ladies, but this is different. It never mattered before if a lady cared for me, but it matters now.” He laughed nervously. “Rosamund, I fear I wear my heart on my sleeve where you are concerned. I find I am not brave in your presence, but rather a little afraid.”
“But why would you be afraid?” she cried, her hand reaching out as if she would comfort him.
“I have been given a great gift in you, Rosamund. I want you to be happy, but do I know how to make a woman,a wife,happy?”
“Owein,” she reassured him, touched by this strong man’s vulnerability, “I am happy. I swear it! My marriage to you is the first real marriage I will have. John Bolton and I were babies. My dear Hugh more grandsire than husband, and I far too young at any rate. Now I am not too young, nor are you too old. We are friends, and comfortable with each other. Friendship is important between a husband and a wife, or so the Venerable Margaret told me. I trust her. I believe that we are starting off better than many.”
“But lovey, there is more to marriage than just friendship,” he said softly.
“There is passion I am told,” Rosamund answered him. “How lovely that I shall explore that side of my nature with my best friend, Owein. You will lead, and I will follow. Perhaps we will learn to love each other, but if not, we will surely respect each other.”
He shook his head in wonderment at her words. “You reason like a London lawyer,” he teased gently. “You are young and inexperienced, but God’s boots, lovey, you are wise!” Reaching out, he cupped the back of her head in his palm and pulled her forward to kiss her lips.
“Mmmm,” Rosamund approved his actions. “I like your kisses, Owein Meredith. They are delicious. Not at all like Prince Henry, whose kisses seem to demand everything of a lass, especially that which she should not give him.” Then she leaned toward him and kissed him back enthusiastically.
After a few breathless moments he broke the embrace between them, saying, “I want the church marriage performed between us as soon as we return to Friarsgate, Rosamund. I do not think I can wait to love you, my betrothed wife.”
“Why must we wait?” she asked him candidly. “We are formally betrothed. It is legal if we decide to enjoy each other, is it not?”
“I will have no hasty first coupling with you, lovey,” he told her, “and in this you must defer to my wisdom. Besides, when we come together at last ’twill be in our own bedchamber, not upon some riverbank where we might be discovered by any low peasant.” He took her chin between thumb and forefinger. “The first time must be perfect for you, Rosamund, for it will surely be perfect for me, my beautiful bride.”
God’s boots! How this man set her heart to racing when he said things like that, she thought. Her breath grew short, her mind reeled with an elusive pleasure she didn’t quite understand, but certainly enjoyed. “Owein Meredith,” she teased softly, “I believe that you have already begun to make love to me, and I find it most pleasant.”
The afternoon had become an idyll, but it had to end. Maybel returned from her stroll, and they rejoined the wedding party. Margaret Tudor departed York on the seventeenth of July, traveling to Durham next. It was there that a new bishop was to be installed. The bridal progress remained three days, entertained by the bishop, who gave an enormous feast for all who might come, and his hall was filled to overflowing with all the guests who arrived, each eager to see and be seen.
They next traveled to Newcastle where the young Queen of the Scots made another state entry into the town. She was greeted at the city’s gates by a choir of fresh-faced children singing happy hymns of joy to her. On the quayside of the river Tyne the citizens scrambled into the rigging of the moored ships in order to get a better look at the wondrous public display. The young queen rested that night at the Augustinian monastery in the town. It was there that Rosamund came to bid her friend farewell.
When the officious Countess of Surrey attempted to prevent Rosamund’s entry into the queen’s rooms, Tillie, Margaret Tudor’s faithful tiring woman since her birth, said boldly, “This is the Lady Rosamund Bolton, the heiress of Friarsgate, who has been my mistress’ dearest companion these last months. She is much in both the Queen of the Scots favor and that of the Countess of Richmond, even as she was with our dear queen, God assoil her soul. Tomorrow this lady departs the progress for her own home with her betrothed husband, Sir Owein Meredith. My mistress will want to see her before she goes, your ladyship.” This last was said with a rather strong emphasis.
“Oh, very well,” the Countess of Surrey said, bested. “But do not remain too long with her highness, Lady Rosamund.”
Rosamund curtsied. “Thank you, madame, for your kindness,” she said with innocent malice.
“Well, at least she has manners,” the countess sniffed as Rosamund disappeared into Margaret Tudor’s apartments, while Tillie swallowed her laughter.
“Meg!”
“Oh, Rosamund!”Meg cried. “I was fearful the old dragon wouldn’t let you in to see me before you left us.” The two girls embraced.
“Thank your Tillie. She is a far fiercer dragon than the Countess of Surrey.” Rosamund laughed. “You look tired, Meg.” She took her friend’s hand, and they sat together.
“I am,” the young queen admitted, “but I cannot show it. Such a great to-do is being made over this marriage. Everyone is so anxious to please my father with their entertainments. John Yonge is keeping a most careful chronicle of the entire journey. I have seen some of his writings. He has written in copious detail of the Earl of Northumberland’s wardrobe, which is, of course, magnificent. I do not know if Harry Percy means to do me honor as they all say, or make himself look royal.” She laughed. “I am gaining the first prerequisite of a queen. A suspicious nature.” And she laughed again, this time almost ruefully. “When will you leave us?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” Rosamund said. “We must ride cross-country in order to reach Friarsgate. It will take us two or more days.”
“Then you will miss Percy’s great banquet tomorrow on St. James’ Day. There will be games, another tournament, dancing, and a great deal of food. Then we will go on to Alnwick Castle so I may have a few days of rest before going over the border at Berwick. Lord Dacre, who is my father’s representative there, and his wife, will meet us with even more lords and ladies. They say my train as it enters Scotland will be at least two thousand people strong. I almost envy you your quiet ride across the summer countryside to your little home.”
“I wish you could see Friarsgate, Meg,” Rosamund told her enthusiastically. “The hills will be so green now, and the lake in our valley blue-blue. It is all very peaceful, and the people are so good,” Rosamund told her.
“When will you wed Owein Meredith?” Meg asked, her blue eyes twinkling. “Grandmother said he was so surprised when she said he was to be your bridegroom. He loves you, I believe. I pray that James Stuart will love me, Rosamund. I know that such an emotion is not supposed to matter in a marriage such as mine, but I want it so!”
“I will pray for you, Meg,” Rosamund promised. “As to your question, Owein wants to be married almost immediately, but I must really inform my uncle Henry of my betrothal first. He cannot stop my marriage, of course, but if I do not tell him, he will cry insult all over the district. I would not have my husband slandered unfairly.”
“You will love him one day,” Meg predicted.
“I hope so,” Rosamund said, “but if I do not, at least I like him. He is very kind to me. But now, before the Countess of Surrey comes bustling in to eject me, I must bid you good-bye, Meg. There is no way in which I can thank you for all your kindness to me. I do not know what I would have done without you. You, and the Princess of Aragon, but mostly you.”
