“Where is my mother?” he asked bluntly.
So, quite focused then, after all. “On her way to Brecka, if she isn’t there already,” Malcolm replied. “She wants me to bring you back there with me. Is Gormflaith with you?”
At that moment, Gormflaith came flying round from the side of the hall, more like some peasant urchin than an earl’s daughter, to greet him with uninhibited pleasure. And his heart lifted all over again. His daughter had the gift of happiness.
“Come inside,” Christian said warmly.
Adam stood aside, still watching him in a way that was almost unnerving. And yet as they sat down close to the fire—for the first chill of winter seemed to have sprung into the air—Adam poured him wine and sat down with him. It was impossible to tell if his son was pleased to see him or not.
“What happened?” Adam asked, and so Malcolm told them about his adventures, how Halla rescued Mairead while he led the Kingowan men on a wild-goose chase, and about the false MacHeths raiding with Fergus of Galloway.
“We scared them back to Galloway,” Malcolm said, “and the king will hear the truth.”
“How?” Christian demanded.
Malcolm smiled. “With the help of a new friend. A Norman lord from the south.”
“De Brus,” Adam said unexpectedly, although Malcolm hadn’t spoken the name. His gaze fixed on Malcolm. “What did you think of him?”
“That he was very young and honorable and loyal.”
“For a Norman?” Adam suggested.
Malcolm smiled. “Perhaps. How do you know him?”
Adam’s brows lifted in surprise. “I don’t. But I know it is his family, not ours, who will be the future of Scotland.”
Malcolm searched his enigmatic face. “You don’t say anything without a reason, do you, Adam? Why do you tell me this? To be sure I don’t start another war to win the kingdom for myself? Or to urge me on to it?”
“Would you?” Adam countered. “Would you rise again?”
“That would depend on many things. Would I fight again to win the crown?” He gave a crooked smile. “I don’t need prophecy to know that ship sailed long ago. Though it’s galling to know my chief claim to fame in the histories will be for spending half my life in captivity.”
“No. There is greater power in mystery. People will wonder about you, about all of us.”
Malcolm regarded him. “You spend a lot of time making the unpalatable palatable for people, don’t you?”
For the first time in their short acquaintance, Adam looked disconcerted, dragging his gaze free as though ashamed of being found out. Malcolm clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “It’s a kindness in you I admire, Adam.”
His son’s lashes flickered upward, revealing his eyes to be unusually clear. “It isn’t always kindness,” he admitted.
“Manipulation?” Malcolm guessed.
“Sometimes.” Adam stirred uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t presume to manipulate you. I wouldn’t try.”
“I know. But you don’t need to coddle me either. I might regret the loss of the fine destiny I once believed to be mine, to be ours. But it seems…I’ve discovered there are things I care for more. Things it is right to care for more.”
Adam nodded as if he understood that perfectly. He probably did, but for Malcolm, the concept was still new and fascinating.
*
Adam and Christiankept a warm and hospitable hall. The Norman knights Malcolm remembered sat among Adam’s native followers, quite at their ease. Malcolm found time to speak to Findlaech, whom he last remembered as a wild, spindly boy. Now he was a fierce and solid man who knew his sons better than Malcolm did.
“I know what you’ve done for my family. No words or gifts can repay it, so I won’t try. But whatever you need, I will give.”
By then, Findlaech had had a few cups more than he should. “I began wanting to make them worthy of you,” he admitted. “And ended trying to be worthy ofhim.”
“There are worse ambitions,” Malcolm allowed. “You helped shape my sons into fine men.”