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    French Kiss: Paris in Five Romance Stories
    French Kiss: Paris in Five Romance Stories
    French Kiss: Paris in Five Romance Stories
    Ebook73 pages1 hour

    French Kiss: Paris in Five Romance Stories

    By Riley Smith

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    The City of Lights is the City of Love, and has been for hundreds of years. This collection follows the stories of five passionate Parisians and the people they love, through the city's long history of great revolutions, violent battles, and tumultuous change.
    Adventure from the Renaissance to the Revolution. Enjoy the view from the Eiffel Tower at its first inaugural World’s Fair, and see the Roaring Twenties through the eyes of a brilliant Parisian poetess. Then join the bold students of May 1968 as they fight for their rights and the rights of the downtrodden. And, of course, all along the way, enjoy the sweet fruits of love in Paris in the springtime.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBryant Street Shorts
    Release dateAug 12, 2020
    ISBN9781094413143
    Author

    Riley Smith

    N/A

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      Book preview

      French Kiss - Riley Smith

      1: A Catholic Haberdasher Meets a Protestant King

      Louise L’Hernault felt the cold of the stone floor of the prayer closet and knew every second of pain brought her closer to the Lord. She rubbed the smooth, worn surface of her rosary beads as she whispered prayers. She could have asked for something specific, like the release of her mother’s soul from purgatory, or for her father to give up on drink and vice. But she left all to the will of God and confined her prayers to formulaic worship.

      In this distracted state, she did not hear the knock on the door behind her when it first came. But as the knocking became more frantic, Louise was thrown from her beatific state back to the real world. She sighed deeply, though she comforted herself knowing she could simply speak to this intruder promptly and then return to her prayer.

      She opened the door that led back into the main room of the house, which served as kitchen, dining room, and sitting room. Louise was grateful every day that she and her father had even such a home as this in Paris. The heat worked well, and it had two bedrooms. Many were cramped into much tighter quarters. She had been in homes with an impossible stench, on streets that streamed with… things one was better off not thinking of.

      At the door, arm raised ready for another bout of vigorous knocking, stood a young woman about six years Louise’s junior. She was sixteen and beautiful, but vain and foolish. Louise worried for her soul and for her future. She was too focused on worldly things.

      Before Louise could ask the girl, Anne Clecy, what was the matter, the girl’s words sprang forth in an ecstatic torrent.

      Mademoiselle L’Hernault! Louise! You stuck yourself away in your closet again, I knew it. I had to come and get you so you would not miss out. Our Lady the Princess Margaret is making her wedding procession, she has probably already started, and you’re in a cold room doing nothing but mumbling!

      I was communing with our Lord God before you interrupted me, Louise said sourly.

      Anne frowned at her even more sourly. You are always ungrateful, mademoiselle. The Princess Margaret will be more beautifully attired than anyone on earth has ever been! How could your heart stand to miss that? You are still a woman. You must find some joy or satisfaction from the look of fine things, even if you have no desire to wear them. Or to style your hair, apparently.

      Louise’s hand reflexively went up to check her hairdo. She cursed herself for that vanity. What did it matter how she looked to earthly people, when God could see into her very soul?

      But Anne was right, her hair had come undone and toppled over while she’d been praying this morning. She would have to fix it before she went out, lest she look slovenly and draw stares.

      She moved to a looking glass to prepare, grunting to Anne, Fine. I will go with you. If only to see the Protestant heretic we are gifting our poor princess.

      Anne looked at Louise with open-mouthed surprise. So you are one of those, then! Many people in Paris are spewing horrid things about the king of Navarre. But I hear he is handsome and charismatic. A real man of the people, with a sense of humor and style. All kings should be thus. Anne nodded sagely, as sure of her opinions as any sixteen-year-old.

      Louise glared at her, as sure of her opinions as any twenty-two-year-old. He is a heretic. He and his like will drag all of Paris down to hell, if they can.

      Anne pouted. Seems to me if everyone stopped being so nasty to each other all the time, we might actually have some fun.

      But Louise was no longer in the mood to argue. She simply laced on her hood and followed a skipping, squealing Anne out of her home toward the wedding procession route.

      Section Break

      A huge platform took up the street. It was impossible to get around it. Anyone trying to cross and go about their business would have had to duck and nearly crawl under it, but no one was very interested in business as usual.

      Despite the stifling heat of the day, bodies were pressed tightly together. The front row of the crowd was pressed with their bellies against the platform, their heads just peeking over it. The people were so tightly smashed together, not even a child could have slipped through.

      Louise and Anne pressed into the crowd. Louise’s nose curled at the stench of so many sweaty bodies in one place. It was worse than normal for Paris, and Paris usually smelled like an outhouse during the hot months of the year.

      The people were shouting just to be heard by their neighbors over the throng. The noise of it was calamitous. Louise gently held her hands over her ears, sacrificing her nose for her hearing.

      Then a hush fell over them all. It was like the rippling of a wave, blowing gently through the crowd until it stood silent. Louise looked in the direction the hush had come from.

      The royal couple. King Henry of Navarre, cousin to His Majesty the King of France, and Princess Margaret of Valois.

      They trod on cloth of gold, which covered the entire platform as far as the eye

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