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
A fire crackled in the hearth and Sorcha could detect the unmistakable odour of mutton cooking. Nausea rose in her throat and she put the back of her hand against her mouth in an attempt to quash the sensation. She took a couple of calming breaths, waiting for the wave of sickness to pass, and stared around in disbelief, noting the tidy shelves, the polished table, how dishes had been placed where they didn’t belong. There was a book she didn’t recognise on one of the side tables near the armchairs. Clearly someone (and it didn’t take much to guess who) had been living here in her absence. Not knowing whether to feel umbrage or gratitude, she continued her survey before turning to regard the captain quizzically.
Sorcha knew curious passers-by wouldn’t fail to gossip about the fact that both she and the captain were inside. Instead of launching into questions, she waited for him to close the door and explain.
Unbothered by her regard, he removed his hat and placed it on a chair, picked up the poker and prodded the fire, then squatted to check the bubbling pot set to one side of the burning peat, lifting the lid and inhaling the smell, a satisfied look on his face. ‘Hope you like mutton. Widow Browning sold me some yesterday and I made this.’ He replaced the lid and stood, dusting his hands. ‘You need to eat. You are all skin and bone.’
Sorcha resisted the urge to wrap her arms around her middle. She feared it would only confirm the captain’s assessment.
‘I gather you’re responsible for this as well?’ She gestured to the room, noting anew how clean it was — unlike her. She’d expected months of neglect and dust and instead — this.
‘Aye.’ He undid his coat and shrugged it off, folding it neatly and laying it over the arm of the chair where his hat rested. Sorcha watched in bemusement; it was as if she were the guest and he the host.
He then dragged a large pot, one she usually reserved for boiling sheets, onto the fire. Water splashed over the edges. ‘We’ll get this heating too, hey?’ he said.
Folding her arms, she waited.
Understanding she wanted a fuller answer, he began to busy himself in the kitchen area. ‘I thought that since you and Mrs Horseburgh were in the Tolbooth for an indefinite period, leaving your cottage empty, it would be best I stayed here awhile. Protect things. I wasn’t sure what might happen to your belongings given the uncertain mood in the village.’ He looked around. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’