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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

Since she’d been released, she’d barely seen the lad and then only from afar — on the street, in the kirk. Keeping her distance, she’d mostly ignored him. Much to her surprise she felt no bitterness towards him, despite what had happened. He was only a lad, after all. A lad in thrall to the reverend. Had he ever been sick? Sorcha wondered now, as she looked at him. Was it really only a few months ago that he’d collapsed at her feet and writhed and convulsed as if possessed? She’d seen how the fit had come upon him so suddenly; how sickly he subsequently became. What she couldn’t reconcile was how he identified her and her friends as responsible. All she could think was how much he must hate them. Him, or someone else.

Despite what had befallen Peter, he looked hale. His shoulders had filled out, his face too; he’d regained any weight he’d lost. No more a lad, he was very much a man. A man who appeared cockier and more assured than he had a right to be.

Surprised to see her, he stopped and stared, then dropped his gaze.

‘Peter,’ said Sorcha. Afraid of what she might say to him, the blame she’d lay at his large feet, even if he wasn’t the only one responsible, she went to pass him. Before she could, he blocked her passage.

‘Mrs McIntyre, Sorcha, I —’

‘Have nothing to say to me. Nothing I want to hear.’ Sorcha regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.

‘Nae,’ said Peter bitterly. ‘I’m sure you save all your words for your fine incomer, don’t you?’

Chin high, Sorcha took a few steps past him, slowed, then spun around. How strange that Peter should raise Aidan when he was so much in her thoughts as well. Unable to help herself, anger flared. Whereas Peter Morton had been the cause of so much misery, Aidan had tried to effect happiness and hope — to protect her and others. That Peter dare speak of him in such a way infuriated her, especially when she knew he must have also played a part in ensuring the captain was no longer in the Weem.

‘Bit difficult to utter any words to Captain Ross when he’s stationed in Bavaria. Not even a witch could shout that far.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘But I’m sure you and your friend the reverend know all about that.’

The look of astonishment on Peter’s face was a performance that almost outdid the one he had enacted daily for months in his bedroom. With a click of frustration, Sorcha began to walk away.

‘Wait,’ said Peter, running after her. He grabbed her arm. ‘Wait, Sorcha, please. I didn’t ken about Captain Ross. He’s in Bavaria, you say? Why? When?’