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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

Sorcha put on her best shift, and then tied her finest skirt over it. Tucking in the embroidered shirt her mor had made, she was about to tie a neepyin about her head, then changed her mind. Instead, she brushed out her hair, leaving it loose. She pinched her cheeks to infuse colour in them, and wished she had something to put on her mouth to redden it like other women sometimes did. The thought made her blush, and she ceased to pluck at her cheeks, laughing with embarrassment and something more.

It was then she heard them. The clop of hooves, the whinny of welcome that Liath always gave when she came near the cottage. How the horse knew, Sorcha could not divine. The voices grew louder as they came closer.

Her heart beat furiously. She wanted to run to the door, but forced herself to walk sedately, a laugh purling in her throat. Wrenching the door open, she watched her friends approach.

There was Nettie, resplendent in green, leading Liath. Next to her was Isobel, her fair hair woven with flowers, a wide smile upon her lovely face. Beatrix walked the other side of Liath, looking fine in a gold skirt and bronze shirt, her limp lending her dignity. Around them were the other fishwives, their usual skirts, neepyins, boots and cloots discarded for this very special day. Twelve in total, they looked grand, womanly and proud, bestowing smiles on the neighbours who’d all gathered to watch and fall behind as Sorcha was escorted to the kirk.

Embraced by all her friends, her sisters of the sea, it was Nettie who helped her onto Liath’s back, the horse turning her noble head to whicker. Patting her withers, Sorcha leaned over and kissed the velvet space between her ears. ‘Take me to your master,’ she whispered.

As they rode along Marygate, the sun shone brightly and the Forth sparkled and sighed below it, a blanket of shimmering diamonds. Across its surface were a fleet of boats and some tall ships, their flags and sails billowing gently in the breeze. The scent of the women’s flowers blended with that of brine into a heady brew. Sorcha inhaled, looking around, smiling as if she’d only just learned how and relishing the way it made her feel, as if the sunshine itself had taken up residence in her soul.

And so she was delivered atop a beautiful silver mare onto the steps of the kirk where her brother waited. Taking her hand to the smiles and quiet approval of nearly all the townsfolk, Robbie passed it to the man to whom she’d plighted her troth, the man who, though he could not persuade his bride to reside with him on Skye, had been prevailed upon to join her in Pittenweem.