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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

Filling his cracked quaich again, Alexander dwelled on the women. Why, that Sorcha McIntyre, for all she came out a bag of bones with her hair shorn, in a matter of weeks she looked bonnie again, bonnie enough that the captain bedded her — or so rumour had it. Same with Nettie Horseburgh. Nor had a spell in gaol softened that woman’s sharp tongue. According to Camron MacGille, it hadn’t blunted Janet Cornfoot’s either. She’d harangue and abuse whoever came to the cave to bring her sustenance. Mind you, if she was eating like him, kale and neep soup day in day out without the comfort of a fire, bed or whisky, no wonder she gave the guards a tongue-lashing.

He’d heard from the eldest Cowper lad that Margaret Jack and Lillie Wallace had left the Weem. Gordon Jack had gone with his wife and taken his long lines with him — a loss that would be hard to bear. Was that the witches’ intention, to make everyone in the Weem suffer? To make everyone blame God and each other before turning to their Dark Master? That’s what the reverend believed.

There was a shout outside followed by a short sharp scream. One of the Browning girls by the sound of it. She was always crying now she was wed to Gavan Wright. Fond of his ale and using his fists was the story. Another wail pierced the walls. He wished he could stopper up his ears. Maybe another dram would help.

Downing it quickly and refilling his cup, he stared at the amber fluid, aware of the fire burning on the periphery of his vision. A movement outside his window forced his head up. There were hushed voices. They reminded him of something…

Rain began to fall, gently at first, then it hammered the window, turning the sky dark, blocking out the light shining from the house across the way. The fire guttered briefly and shadows loomed. Not long until Hogmanay again. The last one had been bitter as well. And there’d been showers — right plouts as he recalled. What he didn’t remember was being quite so hungry, so cold and maudlin…

He’d invited Isobel Adam to come to his house last Hogmanay to mend some of his shirts. Difficult to credit she was one of the witches, pretty little golden-haired thing. She’d been in the kirk today and all. He’d caught her staring at Peter Morton, a peculiar expression on her face. An expression that plucked at his memory…

Alexander sat up suddenly, whisky spilling over the lip of his cup. He sucked it off his hand. Try as hard as he could, he never remembered opening his door to Isobel. First he recalled was waking to find her standing over him. He’d grabbed her. She’d screamed and run out before he could reassure her he meant no harm. She’d just frightened him, that’s all.