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Back The Darkest Shore
Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by Karen Brooks
  4. Title Page
  5. Dedication
  6. EXPLANATORY NOTE
  7. PART ONE
  8. One
  9. Two
  10. Three
  11. Four
  12. Five
  13. Six
  14. Seven
  15. Eight
  16. Nine
  17. Ten
  18. Eleven
  19. Twelve
  20. Thirteen
  21. Fourteen
  22. Fifteen
  23. Sixteen
  24. Seventeen
  25. Eighteen
  26. Nineteen
  27. Twenty
  28. Twenty-One
  29. Twenty-Two
  30. Twenty-Three
  31. Twenty-Four
  32. Twenty-Five
  33. Twenty-Six
  34. Twenty-Seven
  35. Twenty-Eight
  36. PART TWO
  37. Twenty-Nine
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-One
  40. Thirty-Two
  41. Thirty-Three
  42. Thirty-Four
  43. Thirty-Five
  44. PART THREE
  45. Thirty-Six
  46. Thirty-Seven
  47. Thirty-Eight
  48. Thirty-Nine
  49. Forty
  50. Forty-One
  51. Forty-Two
  52. Forty-Three
  53. Forty-Four
  54. Forty-Five
  55. Forty-Six
  56. Forty-Seven
  57. Forty-Eight
  58. Forty-Nine
  59. Fifty
  60. Fifty-One
  61. Fifty-Two
  62. PART FOUR
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Epilogue: Autumn 1706
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. GLOSSARY
  75. LIST OF CHARACTERS
  76. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

More than ever, Sorcha found herself thinking of Captain Ross, hoping, praying he was doing whatever he could to see that justice was served, to liberate them from this hell. But in her bleakest moments, when the room was so black she could taste the darkness, she began to wonder if justice and freedom were even the same thing.

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Beatrix ran her fingers over the gouges she’d made in the walls, trying to work out how long she’d been in this place. She knew she could light the stump of candle smuggled to her by Simon Wood, but didn’t want to waste it. Anyhow, she thought, dropping her arm and feeling her way back to what passed for a bed, what did it matter? The reverend had won; he’d broken them and they’d all confessed.

Collapsed on the pile of stinking blankets, she reached around until her fingers found the lump of bread she’d saved from yesterday. As she nibbled on it, she knew the crumbs spilling down her front and onto the floor would mean the rats would pay a visit, but she was beyond caring.

As they so often did, her thoughts flew to her friends in the Tolbooth. They might have each other, they might have light and even fresh air to comfort them, but did they understand how cold that comfort was? They were all living on borrowed time.

Janet would know. Thomas, too. She prayed the rest of the lasses remained in ignorance.

Until yesterday, she’d been spared what Thomas and the women in the Tolbooth had been forced to endure — not merely the pricker and his sick hobby (dear God, she was grateful for that) but the vile utterings of the reverend.

When she heard the key fumbling in the lock last night, she’d assumed it was the guards bringing the daily ration of food and water, only the sound was coming from the wrong direction. In the semi-darkness, it took her a moment to realise the noise was coming from the kirk and the small door wedged under the overhanging bit of rock towards the rear of the cave.

For a wild moment, her heart leapt and she wondered if someone had dared to come and free her. Inwardly berating herself for allowing such a foolish hope to flare, she quickly leaned over and extinguished the candle, plunging the cave into darkness. Let whichever bastard disturbed her learn how to navigate their way around the hole like she did, skinned knees, grazed hands, broken tooth and all.