BooksBarbecue
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

Aidan shook his head. ‘I don’t ken, lass. But I want you to promise me you’ll be careful. You, Nettie and the rest. He is a wicked man, Cowper, and I wouldn’t put it past him to try something else. He’s angry about those pardons. He’s angry and his pride has been bruised. He’ll take it worse than a personal slight. He’ll see those acquittals as being against God and something it is his religious duty to correct.’

A sea of sorrow churned in Sorcha’s breast. ‘I hope you’re wrong, Aidan.’

‘Aye, me and all, lass. But in case I’m not, promise me you’ll be cautious.’

Sorcha twisted in his arms and put one hand on his chest so she could study him properly. ‘I promise, Aidan. But there’s something I would ask you to promise me.’

‘Anything.’

‘Promise you’ll come home.’ Her vision swam. Her throat became thick. ‘That you’ll come home to me.’

There was a beat as Aidan swallowed. Sorcha felt her ribs tighten.

‘Och, lass, I promise that and more.’

Sorcha couldn’t speak, so curled herself back in his arms. She couldn’t look at him. She was afraid she’d see in his face what they both knew to be true: that he’d lied.

Thirty-Five

THIRTY-FIVE

image

… how hard it is to root out bad principles once espoused by the rabble, and how dangerous a thing it is to be at their mercy…

— A Letter From a Gentleman of Fife to his Friend in Edinburgh, 1705

Sorcha didn’t sleep — neither did Aidan. They chose instead to lie in each other’s arms and talk softly as the night deepened and grew colder, the house creaking as the relentless wind pushed and prodded and the sea crashed and moiled in the distance. Oft times they clung without speaking, their hearts murmuring what their mouths could not.

When Aidan donned his uniform before the embers of the fire that frigid, windswept dawn, Sorcha watched him from the bed, admiring his perfect, lean form. The broad shoulders, the dark hair so fine and neat across his chest, as if a barber had cut it to order, or a farmer had scythed it. She loved nothing better than to run her fingers along it, revelling in its softness against the hard body beneath. As she studied him, her heart tender, tears threatening to spill as she thought of the farewell they would all too soon be making, she tried to imprint him on her memory. Curling her arm around his pillow, she brought it close, inhaling the scent of him, wondering if, like her mor, her da and brothers, that would be all she’d have left — fragmented memories of intimate moments, the fragrance that was peculiarly his, until that too faded.