27
At the soft tap on the door, Jaime leapt from Malcolm’s lap, nearly stumbling and falling to the floor. But his hand lingering on her hips sustained her in the moment of panic.
“Who is it?” she called shakily.
“I bring a message from Lady Catherine, mistress.” The woman’s voice was a mere whisper.
Jaime looked warily at Malcolm. Though she tried to fight off his hands, he successfully gathered her into his lap. She gave a small cough, trying to gather her wits and find her voice. “What is it my cousin wants?”
“She requests your presence in her chambers, mistress.”
“So late?”
“Aye, m’lady. She wishes to see you before she retires for the night.”
“Very well. Tell her I’ll be along.”
As the sound of the servant’s slippered feet moved away from the door, Jaime turned her gaze back
