As they rode away from the castle, Bash could hear his half brother yelling out after them. He was worried about Mary. Of course he was. Worried that Bash had finally charmed her away. It was anything but attraction that had her running away with him, though. That much he could tell. She was upset about something. Something to do with Francis. And, as much as he wished that she would admit her feelings for him, he knew that it was incredibly unlikely. She had to think of Scotland first...and that didn't include marrying the bastard son of a French king. One who couldn't offer her anything but love and affection. Especially since he, too, was running away from the court.
They rode for hours, their horses finally stopping beside a stream.
"We'd better let them rest," he commented, leaping down without issue. The bit was removed from his horse's mouth, letting the beast drink freely, and he quickly moved to do the same for Mary's mount before turning his attention to the queen.
"May I?" Blue eyes were sincere, light with the hint of flirtation that always lay there, though tempered with the true affection he felt for Mary. Stepping close, arms rose, ready to help her down. If she let him.