Feel the Burn by Nicole MacDonald Read Free Book Online Page B

taking care not to spill any of the powdered leaf. His heartbeat sounded loud in his ears as he stared at the poison—enough to easily kill all those aboard the ship.
    How much am I meant to give her? In the haste of that fraught trip to the castle it hadn’t occurred to him to ask the Sorceress. Trying to recall how much she’d forced down Catherine’s throat didn’t help, the memory a blur of anxiety. With trembling hands he carefully tapped a measure amount into the drink and stirred until no glimpse remained.
    Belsesus stood outside the Princess’ room and nodded to Ignatius when he entered, a bedroll under one arm, taking care not to spill any of the drink. Catherine still sat at the table but had changed into bed clothes. It wasn’t what he traditionally thought of as bed wear, the small shorts revealing a lot of leg and the oversized shirt showing a glimpse of breast through the loose collar until she straightened at his approach. The reminder of his intent at that glimpse of skin distracted him and he focused his eyes on the mug.
    ‘Here, your Highness, let me know if it’s to your taste.’
    She nodded, accepting the mug and shifted on the seat pulling both knees up revealing even more leg than seemed decent in another’s company. He kept his eyes on her face, waiting to see if she tasted the poison and watched her lift the mug to her lips, tossing her plait over a shoulder when it almost dipped in the mug.
    ‘Mmmm, this is perfect,’ she smiled tiredly. ‘It tastes just as I remember.’
    Relief made him smile and he pretended to look out the window, discreetly watching while she finished the drink. She drained the mug then set it back on the table with a loud thud. Ignatius gave her a sharp look.
    ‘Oops,’ she slurred, ‘that was a little harder—‘
    Her head pitched forward and Ignatius leaped up to catch her with a muffled exclamation. Scooping her into his arms, he stared anxiously down, willing her to breathe. Catherine’s head lolled to the side, her face against his chest, and he flinched when the warm breath hit the fresh burns. Thank the gods, he thought in relief.
    A loud thump on the door made him jolt in shock.
    ‘Ignatius! Is all well?’
    Eyes on her sleeping face, Ignatius called out in a quiet voice, ‘All good, I tripped over a stool. She’s just gone to sleep.’
    ‘Oh, okay. Be careful not to wake her,’ the hushed voice replied. Ignatius rolled his eyes at the closed door and smiled at the woman in his arms.
    ‘I will,’ he whispered and carried her to the bed, gently laying her down and drew the covers over the limp figure. Seizing his bedroll off the table, he flicked it out along the floor in front of the bed, having his head at the same end as hers and stripped off to pull on his night shorts. Before climbing under the covers, he bent over Catherine and slid a hand around her throat, fingers probing for a pulse. She mumbled in her sleep, shifting restlessly against his fingers when he pressed firmly. The reassuring steady thud of blood allowed the tension to leave his shoulders and he smiled down at the sleeping woman. The poison appeared to work well, her brow relaxed and lips slightly parted while she breathed. She looked so much at ease in sleep and Ignatius gently moved his hand from her neck to cup her cheek, bending to kiss her forehead, her scent triggering a moment of desire.
    ‘Sleep well, Princess.’
    Decades of patrolling prior to being made Lieutenant allowed Ignatius to slip off to sleep with ease, the bedroll comfortable enough. With part of his mind alert to the soft breaths from above and an ear to the person on guard outside, he stiffened at the sound of a soft knock after midnight.
    ‘All well?’ breathed the Northerner from outside the door.
    With a silent yawn Ignatius sat up, tall enough to peer over the edge of the bed. Catherine slept curled in a ball, the covers sprawled around her legs and the shirt scrunched high enough to expose her