Lady of Light by Kathleen Morgan Read Free Book Online Page A

fall while out foraging the nearby sea cliffs with her husband.”
    “Which placed you totally at the mercy of your uncle.”
    Terror shot through her. Did he know? Claire wondered, her pulse accelerating. But how could he know?
    She looked at him, searching Evan’s eyes for any sign he suspected what was next to come. All she saw, though, was that same warm compassion. The fear faded; the pounding of her heart subsided.
    “Aye,” Claire agreed. “Ian and I were totally at our uncle’s mercy. I became so desperate I seriously considered taking Ian and returning to our mother in England.” She paused to drag in an unsteady breath. “Before I could carry out my plan, though, my uncle died. I felt there was naught left for Ian and I then but to move on, which we did. We finally found sanctuary and a home here in Culdee, where Father MacLaren offered me work cleaning the rectory and church.”
    “Claire, how old were you when you came to Culdee? And how old are you now?”
    “I was seventeen. I’m now eighteen.”
    “Just a year ago then.” Evan reached out and covered her hand with his. “As I said before, you two were a plucky pair.”
    For a moment suspended in time, Claire stared down at the hand covering hers. It was a beautiful hand, broad of span, long-fingered, and powerfully supported by thick, strong tendons. The nails were short, if rather grimy right now from the hours of cleaning. A sprinkling of dark hairs covered the back of it. A strong hand, she mused. A hand meant to protect, to hold, to caress …
    Abruptly, Claire jerked away. She grabbed the ash can and climbed to her feet.
    “What’s wrong?” Evan stared up at her in concern.
    “W-we’ve squandered far too much time chatting away,” she mumbled as she turned to walk from the house. “Sweep out the hearth now with the broom, while I dump this bucket outside. Then it’ll be time to clean the floor and finish up by bringing you some bedding, or we’ll never get to Culdee this day.”
    Not even pausing to await a reply, Claire spun about and bolted from the cottage. Only when she had reached the farm’s refuse pile did she finally halt. Her breath coming in great gulps, Claire stood there, gazing numbly down at the garbage, the ash bucket still clenched in her hand.
    Stood there and stared as the sheer, unmitigated terror of that night engulfed her once again. This time, however, the old fears traveled with a new companion. If anyone ever guessed what had really happened to her uncle that night, it would all be over.
    And she, simple, silly girl that she was, had almost betrayed everything in an unguarded moment with a charming stranger.

4
Show mercy and compassions every man to his brother.
    Zechariah 7:9
    Ever so carefully, Claire turned yet another yellowed page of St. Columba’s parish baptismal book, scanning the faded, feathery script for some mention of a Sean MacKay, born in the mid-1780s. Beside her, Evan sat deeply absorbed in the parish marriage records. However, even with Father MacLaren’s eager assistance for the first hour that afternoon, they were finally left to their own devices when he was called away by a young couple wishing to arrange their upcoming marriage.
    “Any luck yet?” Evan asked, glancing up at her. “So far, I’ve found three Sean MacKays, and two of them were wed to a Rose.” He shook his head and sighed. “I didn’t realize how popular a name Sean and Rose were in those days. What I really need are the names of my great-grandfather’s parents or brothers and sisters. Surely at least one of them would have stood as witness to their marriage.”
    “Well, if you’d been a wee bit more knowledgeable before you came to Culdee,” Claire muttered, gingerly turning yet another page, “we might have made quicker work of searching them out.”
    Evan sighed and shook his head. “All I remember is my great-great-grandfather’s name started with an L .” He grinned. “Or, leastwise, I think it began