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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

He’d intended to be home a great deal sooner, but after another victory the Duke of Marlborough and his men — including Aidan — had at Trarbach in late December, the Queen commanded that the captured colours of the enemy cavalry and infantry be paraded through Westminster, so all of London could celebrate the duke’s achievement. Newly promoted Major Aidan Ross was elected for the task and asked if Sergeant Thatcher, who’d recently joined them, and Robbie could accompany him.

‘By that stage, I’d already written and told you I’d found Robbie.’ He looked at her apologetically. ‘I did write again as soon as I found out we were coming home as well, albeit via a stay in London, but the ship carrying the mail was lost and —’ His words petered out.

Sorcha had risen from her chair and kissed him on the mouth. ‘I don’t care. I’m so happy you’re here to deliver the news in person. Both of you.’ She reached for Robbie’s hand. ‘That’s better than a letter any day.’

Thinking back on the day they’d appeared so unexpectedly, as if conjured by some blessed magic, and how they’d spoken well into the night, she smiled forlornly. God, she missed Robbie’s presence in the house — but even more, she missed Aidan. Letters were all she had now he’d gone. A veritable pile of them, delivered regularly once a week from Skye.

Aidan was a fine writer and from his missives she learned the farm was doing well, his family too. His ma and da had been so pleased to see him home safe and his brothers were happy to have him and the newly retired Stephen Thatcher helping with the ploughing, planting and shearing; his sisters did little but pester him about Sorcha. He wrote about the fish in the two lochs, the mists that tumbled down the mountains and covered the farm, the harsh winds that blew in from the sea, scattering them. He described the veils of rain that would fall most days, parting to reveal resplendent rainbows that always made him think of the day he came back to Pittenweem. Afeared he’d find her interned or worse as a witch, he’d arrived to see her hailed a hero, the reverend dead and the town he’d grown so fond of, despite its tendency to superstition, on the mend.