Chapter 7

“Are you out of your freaking mind?” I blurted.

The queen arched a brow. “What is freaking?”

“It’s an expletive to replace the more vulgar… Uh, never mind. You raped me.”

Guinevere laughed softly. “You can’t rape the willing, and you were extremely enthusiastic.”

“You took advantage of me in my sleep. I thought you were someone else.”

“If you’re that amorous in your sleep,” she replied in a husky voice, “then I can hardly wait for you to mount me when wide awake.” She paused. “Did you think I was your little French waif? She is young and shy, but she is attracted to you. That much is obvious. What was her name? Marie, Margaret, Mango…?”

“Margot. Her name is Margot, and she’s not my little waif. No, the two of you are nothing alike.”

“I see,” Guinevere said with a smile. “You defend her, meaning you are attracted to her. But,” she paused, pulling back the blankets to reveal her ample breasts. “You flatter me as well.”