The Queen's Consort Read Online Free PDF

worried that she’d never feel him inside her again. Her body yearned for him even more, now that she carried his child. Now that he was no longer attached to the queen. It was as if her body was telling her that she could not live the rest of her life without him and their lusty, impassioned fucking. A steward ran up to Arabelle, ripping her from her daydream, and he hefted the luggage she carried from her and under his arms. “Hurry, mademoiselle. We haven’t much time! You must get to the queen!” And then he was gone around the corner.
    Much time? Arabelle did not understand. Where did the queen go? And where was Christine? The rioting outside was becoming even louder, so much so that she could hear it through the halls, despite the fact that she was nowhere near the courtyard. “Christine?” Arabelle called frantically for her friend, but never heard a reply. She was supposed to go with the queen, but she had lost the royal family sometime ago while wandering through the halls searching for François. They would realize she was missing, and if the revolution was unsuccessful, she would surely lose her head for abandoning them. Arabelle hesitated mostly at the thought of her own fate, and secondly at the fate of the queen.
    Just as Arabelle decided to step forward to break away from the scandalous court that she served and make her own escape, a firm hand grabbed her by the arm, almost forcefully so. François leaned over Arabelle and kissed her here in the palace hall, unguarded, free for all to see. Arabelle passionately kissed him back, and as she parted from his lips, Christine peeked from behind François and smiled as she exclaimed, “Look who I found!”
    Arabelle smiled in return and looked up at François. “François, I am with—”
    â€œYes, I know, ma chérie. Your Christine told me as we ran around the palace looking for you.” François wrapped his arm around Arabelle’s waist possessively and pulled her in for another heady kiss. When the kiss ended, he whispered urgently, “Come. I know a way out of here to a man who will get us somewhere safe. It pays to be the queen’s consort.” A devilish grin pulled at François’s lips then. “And a revolutionary spy.”
    Christine giggled somewhere behind François, since nothing royal could be taken seriously with the revolution hanging over the French people’s heads. “Ah, he is dangerous and mysterious, as well, Arabelle. You’ve caught yourself a fine, fine Frenchman.”
    Arabelle smiled sweetly up at her François and pressed her fingers against his lips. “A spy? I fucked a spy?” She laughed dangerously. “Oh, the poor, lust-starved queen. What she did not know.” Pressing the tips of her fingers into François mouth, Arabelle whispered, “Now I can be your queen. And Christine shall be our consort.” The former lady’s maid smiled back at her friend, who giggled once more. “And we can both have you when we please, without any worry of taxes and royal accounts, or sneaky, handsome spies peeking up our skirts and threatening us with the guillotine.”
    â€œVive la révolution,” François mused, and then kissed both of the women fiercely as they turned to flee the licentious palace of Versailles, leaving behind the heads of less careful lovers to roll.

 
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