So, to say the words he needed me to, to tell him I had truly and completely changed my mind, sparked my fear and my pride. Whenever the appropriate moment arrived, I felt myself shrink. I felt my bravery leave me weak-kneed. I could not allow myself to be the first to say the words.
He hinted all around but ultimately stayed silent on the subject, so I had to declare myself in other ways. When I looked at him, I tried to tell him with my eyes. As I spoke of how good he was, I hoped he’d hear my love. I proved it with affectionate touches to his hand and arm. I prayed the whole while that he understood me, for his sentiments were very clear to me by the same methods.
Episode 12
July 1549
Hatfield House, Hertfordshire
The first week of July, Robert received word that a man named Robert Kett had started a rebellion against the throne and that all able men were needed to crush it. It was the worst fear of us both, but not altogether unexpected. The country seemed to be in a slow burning riot after Thomas’ death. Robert’s father would lead part of the attack himself. Robert was called to join him immediately, and he faced the news bravely.
When it was finally time for our goodbyes, I stole him away to a quiet corner of the library and took his hands in mine. “I will pray every moment for your safety, but I still fear so much that you will not come back.” I thought of the scary dream I’d had of him being crushed.
He folded my hands between his, brought them to his lips and kissed them as he had the first time I’d met him. Looking into my eyes he whispered, “I have something to come back to. Something I have waited my entire life for, it seems. That will drive me to return. It will give me courage and will make me smart.”
Our gazes tangled and melted from the familiar way to a warmer, more meaningful insight. Robert took a step toward me. He stood over me like a beautiful creature of protection. How I loved him, his face, his hands, his eyes. Heat leaked from our gazes and moved downward, warming my whole body. Our breath came fast and blended in an anticipatory mingling. I stretched my mouth towards his, which waited, hopeful, eager.
He leaned toward me, but not toward my lips. He gently kissed my cheek, lingering there and whispering once more. “When I come back, there will be no more waiting. It will be time for clear speaking and clear thinking, and I will settle this thing between you and me. If I have to beg on my hands and knees, I will do what is required of me and all will be right.”
I blushed but nodded as I moved away so I could look into his knowing eyes. I wanted to tell him how I loved him, how I could not wait to be his wife. I wanted to open my soul to him and let him see how it would kill me if he died in battle. But it all got caught in my throat, and before I knew it his soft lips brushed a kiss on my other cheek and he was out the door. Gone. My love was gone, and he took my heart with him. I prayed to God that he would return with it.
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La Fin
Elizabeth Tudor- Ancestry of Sorcery Page 26