yarrr, ye scurvy boy-king, halt ye whinin'

Richard, the third Baron Culter and Sybilla's older son, was not only upstairs; he was on the roof. ...Bucceleuch walked forward and the girl followed, sure-footed, the red hair lifted about her shoulders with the wind.

Lord Culter watched them come. There was about him none of the mad abandon of the bridegroom. A sober, thickset figure with brown hair and reliable grey eyes, Richard Crawford in his thirties was a man of wealth and tried power. He waited, his face stony, and before Buccleuch opened his mouth, he spoke. "If it's about Lymond, don't trouble, Buccleuch."

"It's about Lymond," said Sir Wat grimly, and let fly.

from The Game of Kings by Dorothy Dunnett