“Aye, da, but dinna worry. We didna begin withoot ye.”
“I see ye didna,” Iain remarked blithely, and thanked his son for standing in for him while he’d been else-wise occupied.
“Aw... dinna fash yourself, da. I told ‘em ye couldna help yourself.”
“Ho!” Iain choked in surprise. “Did ye now?”
“Aye, and Angus said I had the right o’ it, too.”
“Did he now?”
“Aye! He said ye been without a woman too long.”
Iain strangled on a chuckle. He made a mental note to speak with Angus about Malcom’s premature education. Och, but he thought his son understood far too much for his tender age.
Then again, he reconsidered, mayhap ’twas for the best. God, but he knew better than any that one could not control fate. Were he to cock up his toes this very night, or tomorrow, or the next, Malcom would need every wisp of knowledge he might possess in order to survive. Aye, for he could shelter his son only so far. MacKinnon men had not the luxury of languishing in boyhood. Damn, but they were pulled from the womb as men, with the weight of the clan upon their shoulders, and the shadows of their predecessors pecking at their backs. In truth, though Iain had vowed to allow Malcom as ordinary a boyhood as was conceivable, he was sworn by birthright, and by duty, to prepare his son to lead.
“Well, now,” Iain began.
“Awwww, dinna worry, da,” Malcom broke in as he wrapped his chubby little hands around Iain’s chin and laid his own chin atop the pate of Iain’s head. Iain savored the feel of his son’s wee pointy chin needling the crown of his head. Och, but it wouldn’t be long before this was naught more than a pleasant memory. The thought made him sigh wistfully. “I understand,” Malcom said, his tone conspiratorial.
Iain’s brow furrowed. “D’ ye now, son?”
“Aye, da,” his son declared with a certainty. “I been without a woman too long, too,” he revealed somewhat dejectedly.
Iain choked, but not solely because of the little hands that were now tightening their grip upon his throat. Bones o’ the bloody saints, he wasn’t certain whether to be amused or disconcerted by his son’s revelation. “You’ve been without a woman too long?” he repeated with no small measure of surprise.
“Aw, yeah, da!” Malcom answered resolutely. “Och, but I been thinkin’ it would be a guid thing to have a lassie aboot to croon me to sleep now and again.”
Iain chuckled at his son’s waggish admission. Struggling to contain his mirth, he whacked his son’s leg affectionately, and smiled as he walked.
“Oh, da,” Malcom ventured once more.
“Aye, Malcom?”
“Di’ she sing ye a guid lay, I was wonderin’?”
Iain blinked at the innocent question.
“I heard cousin Lagan say she was gonna gi’ ye one.”
It took Iain a full moment to realize what it was his son was asking. Damn, but he asked the question with such childish innocense that it made his heart squeeze. No matter that Malcom had no notion what it was he was asking, Iain’s heartbeat sped at the memory. His face and neck heated. Had she ever—with her sweet, passionate whimpers and her pleas. Her open desire for him had been like a balm for his soul. But God’s teeth, he wasn’t about to tell his son that it was the finest lay he’d ever had in his life.
“Aye, Malcom,” Iain confessed, clearing his throat. “She sings sweeter than any woman I e’er did hear.”
“I thought so, Da,” Malcom avowed. “She croons better than cousin Lagan, of a certain.”
Iain’s brows lifted in surprise. “Lagan?” He stopped walking, surprised by the disclosure. Damn, but though Lagan had always been good enough to Malcom, Iain could scarce imagine his dour-faced cousin croonin’ to anyone. “Lagan sang ye to sleep, Malcom?”
“Aye, da,” his son assured him. “He surely did.”
“I’ll be damned,” Iain declared. “Now, when did he go and do a thing like that?”
“Hmmmm...”
Iain imagined his son’s scrunched nose as he concentrated, and couldn’t keep from smiling once more.
“I dunno, da,” Malcom yielded after a moment’s deliberation. “But he surely did. I canna remember when, but I know he surely did.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Iain said again, and started once more toward the gathering. He decided there was much about his cousin that he had yet to learn.
“Oh, da?”
“Aye, son?”
“I was wonderin’ too... does she sing a finer lilt than did me minnie?”