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Back The Darkest Shore
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

Her thoughts travelled to Aidan and Robbie. The more time passed, the harder it became to recall with clarity what her mind and heart needed to sustain hope, especially for Robbie. Refusing to allow her recollections of either of the men to melt away, she worked to rebuild them again and again, asking herself questions and finding answers, no matter how foolish, to aid the process. She did it now. The way Robbie’s eyes would crinkle when he smiled. How, when he thought no one was looking, he would use his finger to clean not only his bowl, but hers as well. Even the way he used to say her name in a sing-song manner that was akin to a purr. She recalled the way Aidan would gently tug at his hair when he was thinking, or how, when he poured a dram, he would tip a wee bit extra into the quaich — especially hers. Then there was the magic of his dimples… Were they somewhere out there, her lads? Lost in this wet wildness? Wreathed in the thick heaviness of storm-soaked clouds unable to find their bearings? Afraid? Or resigned? Bold? Or missing her too? So close and yet so far away.

A wave washed along the top of the pier, saturating her boots. Jumping sideways, she laughed. She could hardly get wetter; what did it hurt anyway? A shower of salty water drenched her and she threw her head back, tugging her hair free of the neepyin, shaking out her wet curls, surrendering herself to the storm, to the mighty Forth. She pulled off her sodden, useless mittens and threw them into the heaving waters, making an offering of them along with her scarf. The sea had taken so many of her loved ones, but she still felt such an attachment to it. Somehow, she knew, deep in her heart, in her sea-charmed soul, it would not take her. Not even while she walked like a wuidwoman, teetering along the pier with its missing planks and gaping holes, its barnacles, slippery moss and seaweed-strewn surface. She didn’t falter, she didn’t misstep, she simply moved forwards.

As she walked, she prayed. For Beatrix, Nicolas, Isobel and Nettie. She prayed for all those Cowper accused, for the fishwives and fishermen and for her town. She prayed for Thomas Brown and Janet Cornfoot, for Lillie Wallace and Margaret Jack, wherever they were. Most of all, she prayed for Aidan and Robbie and asked the sea-gods to bring them safely back to her.

Toss them onto land if you must, only, she whispered, please spare them the finality of your watery embrace.