Chapter 15
The story continued, mostly one of warnings about how not to go out late at night, and not alone, and never travel by the crossroads: the very thing Ignatius was shortly going to have to do. He took a last bite of chicken and flinched when Jacques tossed it somewhere over his shoulder regardless of whether it landed on the table or the floor, and someone found it in the trifle or stepped on it and slipped. Ignatius was very aware of the grease from the meat glazing his lips.
Those dark eyes studied him, seemed to search Ignatius’s gaze, and no matter how the young tutor strove to look away he could not do so. Jacques leaned in and Ignatius would have pulled away if there had not been a wall at his back as steadfast and solid as Jacques himself.