Chapters (76)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also by Karen Brooks
- Title Page
- Dedication
- EXPLANATORY NOTE
- PART ONE
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- PART TWO
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- PART THREE
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- PART FOUR
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Epilogue: Autumn 1706
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- GLOSSARY
- LIST OF CHARACTERS
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Sorcha looked around her. The encroaching night was cold, the street bleak, despite the singing, the candlelight, the roiling mist. All she could recall was the feel of the men’s bodies pressed against hers, the taste of blood in her mouth. She’d foolishly hoped for a different kind of welcome; a different kind of Hogmanay. Perhaps this was what she deserved. But that didn’t mean the others did.
Suddenly, the events of the day, the reason for her leave-taking and early homecoming and the threat and fear that greeted her on her very own doorstep became too much. Men became too much, even this gallant who not only showed such courtesy, but looked to their safety.
‘Thank you for what you did, sir. But if you don’t mind, it’s growing late and I would like to get inside before the new year passes.’ And have a wee drink with my friends.
Before he could protest, Sorcha gave the captain a nod of dismissal and ushered the women, who added their thanks to hers, back towards the cottage and through the open door.
She was about to close it, when the captain put his boot between the door and the jamb. His fingers curled over hers where they rested. He’d dismounted both quickly and quietly and moved with a speed that unnerved her. Taller than she expected, she was forced to tip her head to see his face. Up close and by the mellow light of the fire, it didn’t seem as hard, but rather one shaped by experience and, if his twinkling eyes were any guide, humour and kindness as well. God damn if her heart didn’t flutter and heat that had nothing to do with the growing warmth at her back flooded her cheeks. Had she learned nothing?
‘I said,’ Sorcha looked pointedly at his boot obstructing the door and then at his hand covering hers, ‘I want to get inside.’
The captain removed his fingers slowly. ‘Aye, and I heard you. But I thought you might also like to have these.’ He heaved her burlap and shawl into her arms.
Before she could thank him, he strode to his horse and threw his leg over its back. Tipping his hat to Sorcha one last time, he disappeared down the street, swallowed by the mist as if he were one of the fae folk and had never really been.
Three
THREE
She’s a toon’s crack.
(Everyone’s speaking about her.)