She jumped back from the hearth, muttering an oath then straightened up to examine the blisters on her hand. It was no surprise that the accident had happened; she was edgy and excited tonight. She had just received word that the contraband had rounded Rough Point and would demand her guidance ashore. The weather was violent, and she could hear the waves smashing and tumbling against the rocks on the Kerry coastline. Wispy clouds sailed across the yellow moon, and the wind swept wildly across the cliffs and down through the valley. The two-room cottage of Darcy McBride and her brother Liam was warm and quiet. The peat fire cast a warm glow across the tidy room and the clean white-washed walls. A large kettle bubbled over the fire, filled with a hearty evening meal. As Darcy bent down to shovel more coals onto the lid of the Dutch oven baking her soda bread, a gust of wind burst the cottage door open, startling her. She stopped to tuck her hair back in place. In Gaelic, Darcy means dark, and her hair was long, full and indeed dark as coal.
What do You think about Beyond The Cliffs Of Kerry?
