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Back The Darkest Shore Save as PDF
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

His hands dropped and he stepped away.

She became aware of how drab she was, how she must stink. The water they’d been given to wash in wasn’t clean, nor the cloths, certainly not after all four women had used them. God, she could smell herself, smell the reverend, the pricker and his searching grubby hands and filthy implements. Smell the blood, the pain, the infections, the humiliation.

Maybe the captain couldn’t bear to be near her. She’d misread his kindness as tolerance of her state. Maybe he had to leave because for all his chivalry, she disgusted him. Heat rose up her neck. Her cheeks began to burn. Turns out, she still had pride after all.

‘Forgive me. You don’t have to stay, captain… I… I’m being selfish. God, I can barely stand to be in my own presence.’ Her arms swept her body and encompassed the room. ‘You’ve already done so much for me, for the others as well. Go. Go do your duties, with my blessing and thanks. I will manage.’

The captain moved towards her and gently spun her around. He began to tug at the ties that bound her skirt at the waist. ‘Aye, I ken you’d manage. You always will, won’t you, Mrs McIntyre? But this time, you don’t have to manage on your own.’ Her skirt fell in a puddle at her feet and she stepped out of it. Uncertain what to do with her arms, her hands, whether to shield her womanly parts, explain the marks that covered her body or not — more for his sake than her own — she let them hang by her side.

Sensing her ambivalence, the captain continued quickly. ‘I should probably tell you there’s not much I haven’t seen, what with being at war and tending wounded soldiers and civilians — women and bairns as well. Seeing them maimed and worse, all the times I carried one of my men back from a tavern and saw them to bed. Then, there’s the help I gave as a lad with calving and lambing back on Skye. And that’s before I blether ’bout my sisters. Och, the stories I could tell you about those two and my ma and me bathing and dressing those wee grubs…’

His tone was solemn, but also teasing, temperate, as he helped her divest herself of her shirt. As she tried to tug her shift over her head, her arms wouldn’t co-operate as it clung to her body. She had to rely on him to peel it over her head. The entire time she was being undressed, he talked.

Standing before him naked, aware of how thin, bruised and scarred she was, she nevertheless held her head high. Captain Ross had not once looked away from her face.