The Secret of Drulea Cottage, Betwixt the Sea and Shore: Book 1

A Night of Reluctant Guests

Orkney Islands, 1759

Briony Fairborn gaped at the ship coming up near the shore below her cottage. Her home lay on a rocky cliff overlooking the vast blue ocean. Drulea Cottage was well known to passersby, for it stood alone against the horizon as a haunting silhouette whenever someone came to the village of Everton.

On this particular evening, Briony had been sweeping some dirt from her kitchen floor when the unexpected ship caught her eye. At first glance, she could have easily mistaken it for one of the ships Everton often traded with during the warm months. The village was firmly established as a seller of furs and lumber because of the abundant forest that bordered it. It was one of the only places in Orkney that possessed several trees.

But what would a ship be doing coming in at this hour?

The village's usual trade partners knew better than to come in this late. This ship appeared to be struggling to reach the port, which was understandable with the strong winds that usually met sailors as they arrived. Although Everton welcomed outside trade, strangers often felt a sense of foreboding when their ships came close, almost as if nature herself was urging them to stay away.

Briony watched the ship successfully dock. Since most of the villagers were probably already in bed, she wondered if anyone else had noticed the new arrival. The passengers and crew might need a guide once they departed their vessel. Briony set down her broom and checked her reflection to make sure she was presentable.

Staring back at her was a lovely young woman with thick black hair and amber, almost yellow, eyes. Her cheekbones were prominent, and her skin was clear and pale. Her dear friend, Adaira, often told her she was quite pretty, but Briony expected Adaira was only trying to make her feel better for never getting any suitors.

Once she was ready, Briony marched down the path to the next closest home; it belonged to Mister and Mistress McGuff. They wouldn't appreciate being called upon without an invitation, especially by her, but Mr. McGuff was one of the village leaders and would want to know about the strangers' arrival.

Briony slowly raised her fist to the dark wooden door and knocked. After a moment, the door opened, and there stood five-year-old Fergus, his thumb in his mouth. He smiled when he saw her and held out his arms for a hug.

Picking the boy up happily, Briony said, "Hello, Fergus. How are you this evening?"

His little brown eyes scrunched up as if he was about to cry. "My mum's mad at me, Mistress Briony. She says I should na have let Mr. Gully into sissy's bed."

"You put Mr. Gully in Hannah's bed?" Briony echoed, trying to keep the laugh out of her voice.

Fergus nodded, his lower lip quivering. "He looked cold, so I thought he would like her blanket and koad."

"And you thought Hannah would want a frog in her bed?"

"Why na? Mr. Gully's na just any frog! He's—" Fergus broke off when he spotted his mother approaching the doorway.