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

with an L .”
    “Och, and aren’t you a big help?” Claire made a sound of disgust and rolled her eyes. Then, as her gaze lowered once more to a fresh page, she gave a start. “Here’s something verra interesting.” As Evan rose and leaned over her shoulder, she pointed to the date of March 5, 1786.
    “Sean MacKay … son of Lachlan and Sheena MacKay, nee Ross …” He paused, his brow wrinkling. “Hmmm … this is very interesting indeed. Lachlan MacKay …” He nodded slowly. “Now that I think about it, that was my great-great-grandfather’s name.”
    Evan grinned. “I’ve found him, Claire! I’ve found him!”
    “Aye, it seems you have,” Claire said as she flipped back a few pages and paused. “Especially considering the other Sean who wed a Rose didn’t have a Lachlan as his sire. It’ll be far easier to identify the sisters and brothers now, and then find any of their ancestors who stayed behind when he emmigrated.”
    The next half hour passed in far more fruitful investigation. By midafternoon, Claire and Evan walked from the rectory library with a list of several potential MacKay relatives. Father MacLaren, finished with the young couple by then, met them in the hallway a short distance from his office.
    Evan, a triumphant smile on his face, waved the sheet of paper before him. “We’ve found eleven people who might be relatives of mine. Can you help in narrowing the list down a bit?”
    The old priest nodded. “Aye, mayhap I can. Why dinna ye join me in my office? Mrs. Fraser was just about to serve tea, and she always prepares far more than any one man could hope to eat.”
    “Sounds like a fine plan to me, Padre.” Evan turned to Claire. “Is that all right with you?”
    “Aye.” She smiled. “We can’t tarry overlong, though. I need to purchase fresh fruit and vegetables for supper, not to mention bake bread before the day is out. You’ll dine again with us, will you not?”
    “If you’ll have me again, I’d be honored.”
    “Well, I can’t see any other way for you to eat,” Claire said as she followed Father MacLaren into his office. “It isn’t as if you have aught to cook with, nor any food to cook.”
    The priest cut her a sly look over his shoulder. “Mayhap Evan would prefer to pay ye for yer meals, and save himself the added expense of buying a cook pot and such that he willna wish to take home to Colorado at any rate. Had either of ye thought of that?”
    Claire sat in the small chair she had pulled up before Father MacLaren’s desk. “That’s a consideration, to be sure.” She glanced up at Evan. “Would that be agreeable to you?”
    “I’ve no complaint with your meals.” He paused, then grinned. “That is, if you have no complaint with occasionally cooking any meat I might be able to buy or hunt down.”
    “Och, to be sure you’d never hear a complaint from me, and most certainly not from Ian, about any meat you’d bring to our cook pot.”
    “Good. Then it’s settled.” Evan turned back to the priest, who had finished settling himself behind his desk, and slid the sheet of paper containing the fruits of their hours of research toward him. “Here, Padre. Are there any folk on the list still living around these parts? Some or all might well be my kin.”
    As Father MacLaren studied the list, Mrs. Fraser bustled in, a loaded tray in her hands. Evan immediately jumped up to help the elderly woman, taking the tray and carrying it to the little table sitting ready beside the priest’s desk.
    Stacked around a white, porcelain teapot painted with bright purple thistles were four teacups and saucers, four plates and silverware, and four cloth napkins. A large plate was filled with scones, and sugarcoated shortbreads shaped into thin, triangular “petticoat tails.” A plate of cream-filled buns, which Claire soon informed Evan were actually called cream cookies, appropriated the remainder of the tray. Accompanying the fare were small, cut-glass bowls