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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

He cringed at the thought of setting eyes upon her again, not so much because he was remorseful for what he’d done, but because he feared she’d resemble the other women — all angles and horrid, painful-looking scars. Sunken eyes and cheeks, colourless and defiant. He heard she’d been poorly treated and the idea made him shrink inside. But what had he expected? When the reverend insisted Sorcha was a witch and that it was his godly duty to name her and protect the village, Peter knew that she would be punished. Reverend Cowper told him it was long overdue. Mrs McIntyre, he whispered, was a wicked woman, a brazen besom, who swept men off their feet using bewitchment. She manipulated them for her own ends.

The reverend had a point when he spoke of the men in Sorcha’s life. They were all either dead or missing — even her wee bairn had died. Peter’s illness had fallen upon him when he was with her. To the reverend, this proved she was in league with Beatrix Laing, a known witch. Just like her other associates. As much as he was reluctant to concede this, Peter knew there was some truth in what Reverend Cowper said. Why would Sorcha tolerate such company if she was not of a similar mind? If they were not part of a coven working towards a common goal, a common evil? And Isobel and Beatrix weren’t even fishwives…

At the top of the braes Peter stared out over the Forth. It was good to be home. At least here you could breathe, feel the wind, the earth; smell the sea, not be choked by chimney smoke and tobacco or tromp on hard, stinking cobbles, inhale horses’ shit and human feculence or have your ears assaulted by endless noise and blather. Here you could spin with your arms out wide and touch the sky. In the city, you were lucky if it could even peek between tall buildings. Peter twirled around now, remembering how it had felt to be pushed and carried along in a tide of humanity, all smelly clothes, sharp heels, odorous breath and deafening shouts.

Coming to a halt, he shut his eyes until the world stopped spinning, then opened them again. Small whitecaps rippled across the water as the wind fanned its surface. Boats were putting back out to sea, wanting to take advantage of the gloaming, a time when the fish would bite, if they were about. There were people milling on the harbour and the beach to help them, enjoying the unusually balmy weather. He saw children splashing around in the incoming tide, a couple of dogs chasing gulls, barking in joy.