Page 69 of Rebellion's Fire

“That could be,” Christian said thoughtfully. “Marriage with your family would give him an eventual claim to Ross. I love Tirebeck. It’s my home. But even I can’t see it as much compensation for the loss of Galloway.”

Gormflaith let out a gurgle of laughter that sprayed cake crumbs over her lap. Unselfconsciously, she brushed them off before glaring at her brother.

“Very well, Adam. Speak. Tirebeck has some strategic value to us and maybe, therefore, to Galloway. But we all know it wouldn’t distract Gilbert or Uhtred of Galloway for more than a minute.”

Adam said nothing. He’d finished a cake and was reaching for another. Gormflaith scowled at his averted face.

“He knows who Cairistiona is,” she said with a significance Christian couldn’t fathom. It almost sounded like a quotation, and it got Adam’s attention at last. “Whois Cairistiona?”

Not everyone looked at Adam. The Lady of Ross was gazing at Christian. Christian could almost feel her eyes, watchful, unblinking, rather like Adam’s at times.

Adam took a long draught of wine and set down his goblet. For some reason, Christian’s heart was beating and beating, as if she cared what he was going to say. He didn’t look at her but at his fingers lingering on the stem of the cup.

He said, “Cairistiona is the daughter of Mary, the daughter of Crinan, the son of Malcolm.”

Christian’s lips parted. She couldn’t remember ever hearing the ancestry of her mother. Her apparently adulterous mother, according to Adam last night. And it did make unpleasant sense. If her father had been a friend of Malcolm MacHeth, he would hardly have gone south to King David.

And now here was mention of a Malcolm in her ancestry. Obviously, a different Malcolm, but a significant one judging by the way Adam paused after his name, as if his recitation was finished.

“Which Malcolm?” Christian asked drily.

“Son of Duncan,” Adam said. His intent gaze lifted unexpectedly to her and held.

Christian’s throat had gone dry.Malcolm son of Duncan…

“King of Scots, third of his name,” Adam said. “You’re descended from his illegitimate son, who was born in Lothian very quietly shortly before Malcolm married Queen Margaret. It was said Crinan’s mother had no ambition except to keep her son free of the constant squabbles over the Scottish throne.”

Into the silence, Christian said flatly, “I don’t think I believe that.”

“My son is never wrong about genealogy,” the Lady of Ross said thoughtfully. “He hears it once and remembers. However, in this case, I would be interested to know exactly whom he heard it from.”

Adam’s gaze jumped from Christian to his mother. It almost seemed as if he didn’t want to speak. He swallowed, much as he had before he confessed to Christian that he saw visions in the flames.

“From my father.”

“Adam,” Gormflaith scoffed. “Were you even three when you saw him last?”

He shrugged that off. “I found it in a letter he wrote to Rhuadri of Tirebeck, telling him the ancestry of his wife-to-be. He sent a copy to the bishop, which is where I read it when I first went to Symeon for lessons. I don’t know where it is now.”

He spoke as if that part of it was unimportant. Christian was still struggling with the personal significance when she was provided a glimpse of the quick, grasping intelligence that had kept Malcolm MacHeth’s wife in command of turbulent Ross for twenty years.

“He’s aiming at the kingship itself,” Halla said with wonder. “Fergus wants Uhtred to be undisputed Lord of Galloway, and Gilbert to be King of Scots. Or vice versa.”

Christian stared at her. “With an illegitimate claim that evenIcouldn’t prove if I wanted to?”

“I expect Symeon can. More importantly, Fergus can prove it,” Adam said. “He wouldn’t have abducted you if he couldn’t.”

“It’s still nonsense. The royal line has long been secure in thelegitimatedescendants of Malcolm the Third and Queen Margaret. Fergus couldn’t change that by marrying me!”

“It gives him a claim,” Adam said. “One that opposes ours.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Christian insisted. “You might as well say he has a claim to the throne of England because he married King Henry I’s illegitimate daughter!”

“England has different traditions,” Adam said. “And their kings are French. They follow the eldest male line in marriage.”

“So do we,” Christian said.

A hiss sounded between Adam’s teeth. It might have been a laugh.

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