Isobel nodded, concentrating on her next words. She had nearly half a reply formed before her horse began to start and buck, requiring all of her attentions to keep him on the road and not throwing her. Oh, but wouldn't that be lovely? Isobel Dayne lay here, having died after making an idiot of herself in front of the Arryn heir.
She shook it from her mind and clutched the reins, wishing she could be bold like the Martells and wear breeches and ride astride instead of side saddle as a woman was supposed to. Things would be so much easier if she could just go about them like a man.
"I...I would be pleased to indulge you, milord. If you were in need of any sort of...indulgements."