Free Mary & Elizabeth - Emily Purdy by Brandy Purdy Page B

. he kissed me! Long and lingeringly upon my lips, he kissed me! I surprised myself, even as I knew I should shove him away and slap him for his impertinence, and instead I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him.
    “My Lord!” I gasped, blushing and befuddled, when his lips left mine.
    “Well met, My Lady Elizabeth.” He smiled at me, displaying a set of perfect pearl-white teeth, sparkling from amidst his bushy beard, as he released me and his hands reached out knowingly to catch my elbows and steady me as my knees threatened to give way beneath my black damask and velvet mourning gown.
    “I thought it only fair that since I have swept you off your feet at both our previous meetings I should continue in the same vein,” he said teasingly.
    As he spoke his eyes roved over my body and I felt as if every stitch I wore was being peeled away, leaving me stark naked before his piercing gaze.
    “Do you not remember?” An incredulous little frown creased his brow before he shook his head to chase it away and smiled again. “No, you cannot have forgotten! I am a man who always makes a lasting impression! The first time was on the occasion of my dear sister Jane’s first, and sadly last, Christmas as Queen . . .”
    “Y-Yes, M-My Lord, I . . . I . . . remember . . .” Blushing and tongue-tied, I stammered, as my mind hurtled back in time to that Christmas of 1536 when Tom Seymour, dressed in motley colored silks and ribbon streamers all trimmed with tiny bells, and a gilded tin crown, had presided over the Yuletide celebrations as the Lord of Misrule. All of a sudden he had swooped down on me and swept me up high into the air and demanded a kiss from me. Laughing, I threw my arms around his neck and complied wholeheartedly with a hearty smacking kiss that made all those about us laugh. I was but three at the time and not so mindful of my dignity, and everyone is apt to let decorum slip when the jolly, cavorting Lord of Misrule holds sway and the wine and wassail are flowing freely. Everyone looked on smilingly, observing that “Jolly Tom” had such a way with children, they naturally responded to him, and what a shame it was that he was still a bachelor and had none of his own. Then he set me down, and taking out a flute, called the other children to gather round, and bade us follow him, forming a living serpent of gaily garbed little bodies, weaving our way through the adults amassed in the Great Hall.
    “And the second time,” he prompted, “was when I carried you in the procession for . . .”
    I gulped and nodded. “. . . my brother Edward’s christening.”
    “Yes! God’s teeth, you do remember!” He smiled broadly. “I knew you could not have forgotten! My brother Ned was supposed to have the honor of carrying you, but you took an instant dislike to him—and who could blame you?—and kicked his shin and ran to me and threw yourself into my arms and said as regally as a little queen, ‘You may carry me,’ and when he tried to take you from me you bit him.”
    I blushed at the memory and hung my head; I could not meet his eyes knowing my face was all aflame, and my stomach felt as if it were aswarm with thousands of anxious bees.
    “Y-Yes, M-My Lord,” I said quietly, “I . . . I remember.”
    “And now . . .” Tom smiled, oblivious to my embarrassment. “Here I am, to sweep you off your feet every day for many years to come! What, can it be? Have you not guessed, my clever Princess?” He threw back his head and laughed at my befuddled countenance. He spread wide his arms to show off his fine manly physique and the equally fine clothing beneath his sodden cloak. “Your new stepfather stands before you!—Here I am! Come, embrace me, Bess!”
    I felt the most peculiar feeling then, a breathlessness that left me reeling, as if the breath had suddenly been knocked violently from my lungs. I couldn’t understand it then, my mind churned with confusion, but knowing that he was married made