Chapters (76)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also by Karen Brooks
- Title Page
- Dedication
- EXPLANATORY NOTE
- PART ONE
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- PART TWO
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- PART THREE
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- PART FOUR
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Epilogue: Autumn 1706
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- GLOSSARY
- LIST OF CHARACTERS
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Sorcha tucked the girl’s skirts around her. ‘’Tis me. But what are you doing wandering down Marygate so late? It’s not safe.’
Isobel’s eyes darted to the door. ‘Nae. It ain’t.’
Sorcha rose then and drew the bolt across. ‘Was it soldiers?’
‘It wasn’t them.’
‘When you’re ready, tell us what afeared you,’ said Nettie.
Isobel took a long drink, wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, and began.
She’d been visiting the widowed fisherman Alexander McGregor. He lived on the crest of Lady’s Wynd and had asked Isobel to stitch some shirts for him, promising extra money and a dram or two if she could come on Hogmanay.
Nettie gave Sorcha a pointed look. No doubt McGregor hoped for more than some mended clothes.
‘When I got there,’ continued Isobel, unaware of the exchange between the women, ‘there was no answer. It was dark and there was a plout o’ rain. I didn’t want to get wet again, so I opened the door and let myself in. Mr McGregor was sound asleep. But I could see what needed doing, so I drew a chair up by the fire and began to sew.’ She gulped and glanced towards the door again.
‘It’s all right, Isobel, I latched it. What happened after that?’ asked Sorcha.
Isobel shrugged. ‘I must’ve lost track of time. I might’ve dozed off myself. You see, I helped myself to the promised dram.’ She gave an apologetic smile. Sorcha squeezed her leg. ‘When I woke up, I noticed that Mr McGregor was stirring. I put down the shirts and went to greet him. He opened his eyes, sat up, and pointed at me. Before I could say anything, he began screaming that the devil had come into his home. It gave me a terrible fright, but no more than I did him. I tried to calm him, but when I stepped closer, he grabbed me by the throat —’ Her hands fluttered at her neck. Sorcha saw there were red marks on her skin.
‘I was afraid for my life and began to scream. I said, “Nae, Mr McGregor, ’tis me, ’tis me, Isobel Adam.” I pointed to the work I’d done, but he couldn’t see me even though his eyes were open. ’Twas like he was bewitched or a spirit or something had a hold of him —’
‘The spirit of whisky would be my guess,’ said Nettie. Sorcha swallowed a grin.
‘I managed to get away from him, but he chased me about the room. I reached the door and ran as if the hounds of hell were on my heels. Then I remembered that your house was at the bottom of the hill. I knew Nettie was living here. I prayed someone would be home and thank the good Lord you were.’