“Do you, Anne Howard, take this man, James Stewart, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forth, to honour and cherish, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all other men for him alone, for the term of your natural lives, until death does you part?”
“I do,” Anne’s voice rang out above the gathered spectators, fairly sparkling with joy. She beamed at James, squeezing his hand as he too repeated his vows clearly and with joyous alacrity.
Barely even waiting to slip the ring on each of her fingers in turn and for the Abbesses of Durham and Dunkeld to pronounce them man and wife, he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers, knowing as he did so that he was setting the seal on a childhood dream. Anne was his Qu
