Chapter 4
It was a dream. It had to be. No way was I seduced by a spirit. No way did Jacques screw around with me! Ignatius sat up. He blinked, staring with wild apprehension around the room of the little two-roomed hovel. Everything was as it should be. A fire burned in the grate. A bowl of apples adorned the table. The only thing out of place was…Jacques Bouchard.
He’d been aware of the big man’s presence in his bed before Jacques moved and sighed in his slumber. Turning his head, Ignatius gazed down at the round face, the heavy eyebrows, the dark and decidedly dishevelled hair…that he’d longed to run his fingers through the instant he set eyes on it. In sleep, the face appeared gentle. The closed eyes failed to bestow their usual malevolence.
Was it malevolence though? Jacques had su
